Mystifying (1828)

Act 1

Looking at some of my fingers, skin was peeled from it.

It drew to my attention, the little pricks of skin, peeling off,

like a molding orange. "Strange." I commented. It was strange.

Especially considering the fact that I've gone years without problems

with my skin. It was very odd, very mystifying.

Several weeks passed, and my hands got worse. What started out as

Little pieces of skin peeling from my finger, turned into almost

Long strings of skin, peeling down like vines. "Strange, very strange."

I commented once more. I consoled this problem with my wife before rushing off to work.

She responded, "If you are to ponder so much about this issue, console a doctor."

The following weekend, I sought out to visit my doctor about my unusual problem.

He took the time to examine my fingers carefully, concentrating on each cuticle.

My skin was peeling, yes, but by the look in his eyes, it seemed as if there was nothing to it.

As if the problem was a lack of vitamins or too much time in the sun.

That maybe I had made up a crazy scenario to justify an explanation or to humor

my beloved wife.

However, when my doctor spoke, he raised his head and asked,

"Mr Walker, have you ever heard of a Flaysire before?" Never before, have I heard,

a scientific doctor speak such mystifying words. "No, doctor, I have not.

What does that have to concern with my hands?"

My doctor let a moment of silence reach both of us as our eyes concentrated each other.

My doctor, without even uttering another word on the matter, or giving me a

moment to reason with his bizarre nature, handed me a prescription from his cold, apathetic hands.

"Lexarall"

At first, I assumed nothing of it, that the rest of my concern stayed with my doctor.

However, I was mistaken as the events of that night played out.

It was just that name, this medicine--

Lexarall..

The only true reading I could decipher from it was that it contained Ferrum.

Beyond that, its origins were completely foreign to me, and also to my wife.

On top of that, the Lexarall was a strange little bastard.

It shared two colors that were unfamiliar with each other,

it had this odd shape of a ring, misshapen.

Unconcerned, I took a singular pill that night. Sleep took over my body entirely that night

I laid to rest next to my wife. However, my body felt like an unmovable force. As if everything

now was out of my control and I was frozen in time. I couldn't decipher if the sounds were

my own endless dread into madness or if my very own world I've grown to know had simply

ceased to turn its back onto me.

All due to a single, mystifying word that spiraled out of my own doctor's lips,

Flaysire..

Flaysire..

Flaysire..

Flaysire..

Then I arose. It was sudden, a little later than usual. I didn't think much of it,

I actually thought the medicine my doctor prescribed helped to lull me to sleep.

However, when I began to gently comb my hair with my hands, crimson dropped

on my face like thick wine. My bed, also stained deeply with impending dread

There, beside me wasn't my beloved wife but the bones of my index finger,

Deprived of warmth. Which left nothing for my finger but a flap of a sackless skin that

hung over my nonexistent knuckle.

My heart began to bounce against my cage as each beat concerned urgency.

My mundane manner turned into screams of terror

My wife, nowhere beside me as confusion and panic overtook me like a storm

of dread and despair.

Distressed from my hysteric manner, I fainted.