Clutches of Malice

How many days have I been lost in this twisted dream world? As my sense of time dulled, something began to take shape before my eyes. Beyond the mist, "I" was standing there. At first I was merely curious, but the moment I met its gaze, I realized what writhed in those depths was not my soul, but something strange and damp. It was fear itself. As it slowly reached toward me, its back split open and blood-red tentacles burst forth. At their ends hung not just pieces of flesh, but living eyeballs, staring intently at me like seeds planted to spread this nightmare across the world. Only then did I understand. That was not my reflection in a mirror. It was a hungry clutch of nightmares, using me as a host and seeking to consume this world. - Memory trace engraved in someone's fragment