Festering

Before we go any further, I have to warn you about something. It has to do with the reason why I keep all the lights off in here.

Long ago, before the missives were hidden, there was a cemetery here. This was no ordinary boneyard, mind you; this was the final resting place for assorted and sundry parts no longer needed by the university's surgical school and animal testing laboratories. All manner of limbs and organs from every conceivable living thing was buried here. No thought was given to separating the remains. All were thrown into pits, some lime tossed in, followed by more entrails, more lime, some hands, tails, snouts, more lime, until the pit was nearly full, at which time it was capped with no more than two feet of sandy soil. Not clay, oh no.

Well. It's funny what happens underground when parts that were once vital to an organism's survival are expected to rot and then turn to dust. When the functionality is not yet fully spent. When the company they keep is fated similarly. It's not unheard of in such cases that sinew and guts, bone and brain find each other, intermingle, trade fluids. Cells multiply. Eventually, a spark ignites. Higher ground is sought. The end result is all around us. Not evolved as yet beyond belimbed protoplasm, but somehow... aware. Watching. And waiting. There's one particularly nasty nest underneath the sidebar. Don't go there.