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It was the middle of the night. I awoke all at once, with an odd feeling of hedgeless fear. It was but fear, raw fear, unrined to any feared thing— it had no bring-about…seemingly, it wasn’t a fear that was brought on by something. I wasn’t afraid of anything, I was only afraid. At first, the fear was slight, but quickly grew upon my taking bemark of it, in a little more than a half-aware way, as I came but a bit out of my grogginess. But half-aware or a little more than half-aware I would blive, or maybe I did gain full awareness but an unsame, swith outlandish one, in any ways there was something off and amiss with my mind. I sat up in my bed and put the lights on to allay the fear. But I caught sight of my eyes in the bildglass right withered to my bed, and was struck by thretch at the look on my nebb. I was awestruck by the thretchful look on my neb, and at what it warded towards— the unknown, unyeming, unfathomsome or of my fear— something must be lying behind this fear, I thought, and its unknownness made it all the more eerie and cringlingly scary. But there was something else about my andlit that filled me with fright— not the frightenedness of my andlit but rather the frighteningness of it. There was something limberly dreefing and evil about the swettling on it. I felt this and whorve away in thretch. But I couldn’t keep my eyes away for long. I was frimdy about what this evil was. So I raised my head up slowly all the while half-willingly beshaping a dreefing andlity swettling and looked at myself in the glass again. The onbuild took on an even more strengthsome addlehood, swithened by my foretake of its ghastliness. I peered deeply into the onbuild on my neb, into my eyes, they seemed to lead into a dark and endless pit of hellish screaming and moaning, and devilish madness. But what was truly scary was that I felt that this evil had at that timeling a grasp on me. I felt it coming over me all the stronger, all the swither with each time I looked back at myself after having whorven away, and that it was taking lordhood of me. I felt myself being forshapen into the evil I was underlooking on, at once elgingly and willingly, for it was of untold thretch and nithe and plightfulness, but its depth and all-wreatheingness was unelgsome and pulled me to itself with unwithstandsome strength. I felt myself yielding to the evil but my mean, aware, and sound self still lay beneath the overweighing darkness, forecoming it from taking full lordhood over me. And it was this little, only swith overliving, stifled and thrutched in upon sound self that felt the otherworldly fear. What is happening, panicked this self how could this be, my God I could be evil, I could worthe evil, this could be me— and at that timeling there was in me at once, gathertangly, two selves, my devilish self and my sound, wereful self, each struggling to win out over the other.

Wordstock-- Unrined – detached, from rine, Bemark-notice, Blive-stay (blive, blove, bliven), witherstanding-opposite, Attlehood- terror, from attle (terrible), neb-face, thretchful- monstrous, Unyemesome- imperceptible, Or-source, limberly- subtlely, Dreefing- disturbing, Whorve- past of turn (wharve, whorve, whorven), Frimdy-curious, Timeling-moment, Beshape- to form Swithe- strong, Foretake-anticipation, Onbuild-image, swettling-expression, Unwitherstandsome-unopposable, Nitheness- malice, Lordhood- control, dominion, Forecoming-preventing, gathertangly- simultaneously, Worthe-become, wereful-human

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