I am a forgotten stranger in a hostile land. The inhabitants have built a natural immunity to the germs their larval offspring fester. In my own horror filled streets, I can fend off the baser infections. With time we all adapt. It’s when I travel to foreign shores that my adult-only bubble betrays me. Like wasps to cotton candy the infestations seek my unprotected lungs. I breath, and I am lost.

I hear the bell roar my name in the old steeple by the sea. Without thought of movement I find myself at its base. The skies darken and the winds howl. Waves crest the craggy barrier that protects me from the hell that’s coming. These ancient waters overtake me and infiltrate my lungs, my brain, my bones themselves.

Finally I rise, filled with the swampy waters of forgotten kingdoms. When I try to speak, explosive fits of thick moist air escape, but no words. The taste of pepper lingers for a moment, then I forget and move along. I have risen to join the deep ones who have come before me. Hope of redemption now a twinkle of memory.

I ooze. I drip. I slog ever on, waiting for the end to come.