By Guy N. Smith
The women Listened carefully. The wetlands have been silver and shadow within the moonlight. The salt marsh grasses rustled. Out at the mudflats, curlews known as mournfully. the lady Shivered. The incoming tide trickled and lapped up hidden creeks. quickly the wildfowl will be winging down, the waders feeding and squabbling on the water's side. the woman Struggled. Despairingly, she pulled on the ropes that held her, bare and spreadeagled, a human sacrifice for the Crabs. large, eaten away by way of the mutating illness that doomed them, they have been returning, dragging themselves out of the water, cause simply on tearing aside and devouring their enemy: guy.
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Extra info for Crabs: The Human Sacrifice
I revolved these circumstances in my mind and determined thenceforth to apply myself more particularly to those branches of natural philosophy which relate to physiology. Unless I had been animated by an almost supernatural enthusiasm, my application to this study would have been irksome and almost intolerable. To examine the causes of life, we must first have recourse to death. I became acquainted with the science of anatomy, but this was not sufficient; I must also observe the natural decay and corruption of the human body.
I was like the Arabian who had been buried with the dead and found a passage to life, aided only by one glimmering and seemingly ineffectual light. I see by your eagerness and the wonder and hope which your eyes express, my friend, that you expect to be informed of the secret with which I am acquainted; that cannot be; listen patiently until the end of my story, and you will easily perceive why I am reserved upon that subject. I will not lead you on, unguarded and ardent as I then was, to your destruction and infallible misery.
One secret which I alone possessed was the hope to which I had dedicated myself; and the moon gazed on my midnight labours, while, with unrelaxed and breathless eagerness, I pursued nature to her hiding-places. Who shall conceive the horrors of my secret toil as I dabbled among the unhallowed damps of the grave or tortured the living animal to animate the lifeless clay? My limbs now tremble, and my eyes swim with the remembrance; but then a resistless and almost frantic impulse urged me forward; I seemed to have lost all soul or sensation but for this one pursuit.
Crabs: The Human Sacrifice by Guy N. Smith