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The Cavemanby Novilunehttps://creepypasta.fandom.com/wiki/The_CavemanIf someone is to read these bloodied parchments of mine, I sincerely hope that in finding these final sentiments you yourself have not fallen into the same treacherous despair as I have. I deter anyone from investigating further, for I do not wish to be liable for any one’s psychological break and subsequent demise. I suppose context is necessary: I worked as an embalmer. I had always had an acute fascination with the dead — I suppose this originates from a life of indifference, which is to say, that I had not longed for the human spirit.Such an occupation originally appealed to my puritan ideals, viewing such bereaved ones as being of the utmost purity, comparable to that of a newborn child. I confess, I longed for something more; this desire was perhaps the spark in which I would be inducted into a process of social delineation, an inherently superfluous curiosity — spurred by a singularity; a pale, archaic star.It was around June when an unidentified corpse had been uncovered from a nearby sewer tract. That night I recall a cascading downpour that seemed to span centuries, whereas on that night the sight that befell my gaze in the morgue was one that I had not seen before. Yes, for this was the particular moment when a morbid intrigue took hold of me — a beached carcass, washed up from the impervious deep of the great blue. It was the kind of sight that left one disconcerted without reason, the very thing that eroded my self-agency which had previously comforted me in my endeavours. I felt my curiosity at this moment could not be satiated, even if I were to scour every inch of the cavernous sewers in which it originated.One can infer that the man (for he was discernibly male) that lay in front of me had once been an intimidating figure. His frame was quite large, not to the extent of say a bodybuilder but possessing the general physique that was proportionate to his bulking six feet eight inch build. He sported oily undulating locks of black hair as well as a dense and unkempt beard that had been ravaged by vermin, complementing his pallid and immovable countenance, of which he seemed to be in a nocturnal slumber.Muscular atrophy had extended itself to each bilateral muscle, being most outwardly predominant in the pectoral and dorsal muscles. A sporadic rot had sullied every inch of his corpse with multiple abrasions lining his body. His skin took on a fetid, repulsive quality; any embalming fluid seemed futile in this stage of decomposition, left in the wake of arrant abhorrence. What was left of his gravelous face may indicate a man who had monstrous deformities, one that can be said to be similar in its elongated and retarding form to that of a neanderthal.The identifiable characteristics of this man had inevitably become indiscernible amidst the bile and grot that had accumulated onto his rotting flesh, accentuating his protruding features, as if he had lived the remainder of his days in a forlorn mould of himself, irreversible from years of living as a troglodyte. I stared into his lost, wistful gaze, hoping to find some sign of humanity — I was met with anything but; bereft of anything at all humane, what stared back was a creature of pure carnality. It felt as if he followed my every move with a reserved judgement, for I was to him but another feeble observer.He seemed to be a relic of an era long gone, some kind of artifact that had been confounded by modernity. His body had so deeply engrossed itself in its own sickness that the burden of such lonely ideals seemed tame in comparison. I saw in those very moments a symbolic gesturing of the prescient for a decadence in which I wasn’t entirely sure he had any connection to. This man felt like an unseen pariah, of an otherworldly form, one who coddled with the impossibilities of human nature, of wha