[b]Nightmares[/b]

[i]...wherein the subconscious manifests internal or latent desires fueled not by sound, waking logic; but rather by primitive emotion. Here lies the danger: Some human beings seek destruction at any cost; for others, for themselves. These sorts of emotions rarely, if ever manifest during waking hours. [/i]
 [center][sub][i]Dr. Bartholomew Brightener[/i],  [b]THE RUSE, THE DREAM[/b] 
 Eidolon Press, Idyll City, XXXX [/sub][/center]
[hr]

[b]CASE STUDY[/b]: Antonina Semonov (deceased)
[i]..subject displayed unhealthy tendencies towards kleptomania, hoarding complex, & various dis-associative disorders. [/i]
[b]MANIFESTATION[/b]: Plyushkin (low-risk)
[sub][i]Analog Recording of the testimony given by Alfred J. Prufrock, conducted by Dr. Brightweather, yr. XXXX, mo. XXX [/i][/sub]
 
"I was on my way home from the pub after work one evening and decided to take the old harbor trail rather than my usual route downtown. It was cold and I was thankful to have remembered to bring along my wool overcoat. I...took a wrong turn. Got lost and doubled back and soon found myself in an alley between a restaurant and tenement apartments. The smell of boiled cabbage and...vodka. Ugh. Excuse me. Sorry the smell was...overwhelming. Anyways...  

That's when I saw it. There was just enough light from the security lights to make out the shape of the thing in the dark. The Ruse filled the alley....dark matted hair, stringy and black. Quite disheveled. Grey trousers stained with soot or dirt with an absurd amount of pockets overflowing with various trinkets, trash and...junk. Stuff. Everywhere. The items were seemingly random: Mason-jars with milky liquids. Toiletries: brushes, salves, wipes, pastes, ointments (all of which were no doubt used by half). Newspapers, magazines, paperback novels with the covers torn off. Playing-cards. Tarot cards. Buttons. String. Twine. Wire. Netting. Cloth. Burlap. Jars of nails, filings, screws, pins...I could go on. 

It had legs for certain, maybe more than your standard two-how else would it move around? But the hands..dozens of them. At rest. Folded. Clasped together. Grasping. Reaching. A dozen arms of varying lengths extruding from dingy sleeves. Greasy palms...I can still see the yellow fingernails flitting in the dark... 

It moved along the alley at a tedious pace, and I struggled not to turn and flee but...this was for science. For learning. I watched as the Ruse picked it's way at a leisurely pace among the urban debris and detritus that so plagues this city. It never landed on any one thing, not caring what it packed away into it's pockets or atop the ever-growing enormous pile upon its back. The mound grew larger and larger until at last it became stuck. At this point I was unsure what to do. I waited. It continued to grab things and add it to the pile upon its back. When there was nothing else within its grasp, the creature-the nightmare paused for a moment. I held my breath and tucked my shaking hands into my coat pockets.

It...may have been but a moment. Or an hour. I can't be sure. A scratching sound filled the alley. A mew or...like a whine of distress. I looked and saw the ruse reach with one of its arms at incredible speed. 

The cat, a mangy and pitiful thing never had a chance. It was added to the pile with the other trinkets. I turned and ran, not caring how loud my steps were..." 

-[sub][b]Recording Ends[/b][/sub]
[hr]

[b]RE: [/b]Yours???
[b]FROM:[/b] Jon Polaski
[b]TO:[/b] Dr. B. Brightener

 Copy of [i]Dead Souls[/i] in the break-room. Janine said it was probably yours. How's the book coming? Cheers -Jon