I spotted the thing resting in the window of an obscure pawnshop on the corner of Wimple and States. I was walking past late one night and the corner of my eye caught a glimpse of its sleek form. It was long and black with a texture of shriveled skin. Along its thin cylindrical body were markings of an unknown origin. It was bent at slightly bulged spots like some long finger of a beast better not named. Its sight repulsed me and made my skin crawl. As I stared at the black thing I pondered what possible use it could have had.

In the eye of my mind, I saw a darkened shape standing within a circle of crimson raising the wretched black cylinder above its head and speaking in words of the language whose words are etched unto the side of the object before me. Its words rising in volume until in the apex of its yelling the creature amidst its madness glanced down. Its yellow eyes, which till now had been invisible to me, locked unto my gaze. Shocked by this action my mind is yanked to the present and my hand releases the rock I had raised above my head letting it fall to the ground. I looked at the stone at my feet not remembering when I had picked it from the many that rest on the street. What had been my purpose with that stone I had held? Could it be that I had attempted to break the glass of this small shop in which lies the disgusting object of my jarring thoughts?

My eyes fell again on the object resting on its red satin bed, but I only looked for a moment yanking my eyes away so I am not whisked to that place with that darkened creature whose eyes seemed to do more to me than entice the hidden fears from deep within to the surface of my mind. It was hard to keep from looking back, for something was compelling me to continue to gaze at the unusual finger-like object. It was hard to get my feet moving again to put some distance between the cursed black cylinder and my eyes. When I did begin to move I was moving faster than I normally would so I could get away from the thoughts that, even though I had not gazed at the horrible thing, still seeped into my head as though it were a sponge to the wicked signals the object was giving off. Thoughts which even as I turned the corner and made my way home, still said, “Buy me.”