The Grimoire (cont')

Standing at the entranceway to the mine was my aunt, her arms wide open to embrace me; yet, she moved not from where she was standing. The Journeyman sank to his knees, the book fallen from his twitching fingers. He addressed my aunt in a frightened whisper to name herself. The image turned to him and gave her name in my aunt's voice. The Journeyman walked forward to her. Once again he addressed her, asking her from whence the book had come.

"Ah, the book," croaked my aunt. "My lovely book." The Journeyman asked again, but my aunt would say nothing to him. In desperation he called to me to ask her, which I duly did, being in the state of shock that I was. But still she wouldn't answer.

Finally, in anguish the Journeyman thrust out his hand to touch my aunt. With lightning reflexes my aunt caught his hand. "So you thought to dabble in the Right-Hand path," said a voice, but not my aunt's. "Foolish Left-Hander! You do not know what you are dealing with. Nor ever will you."

Then, the shape of my aunt transformed into a giant bulbous shape. From within there seemed to be a phosphorescent glow. Its shape was not stable, but it continually changed whenever you focused your sight on a part of it. This horrible, protoplasmic terror plucked the Journeyman from the ground and held him aloft in triumph, squeezing ever tighter with limb-like protuberances. It gave a terrifying ululating cry of triumph--and I ran.

That is the story of why I am walking over to the stone pit, of why I cannot face my family, my friends. I do not know whether the evil is unleashed permanently, or merely for a few hours, but I have to get away from here. I cannot stay, for whatever it is may be following, and I dare not face that thing again.

For, while the huge mass of the creature was in a constant state of flux, its features remained the same. For it had a human face...