From an Interview with Dr. Jacob Spears, Psychiatrist

"Yes, as a student working under the late Dr. Godschalk, I often had the opportunity to observe the more... curious patients. I was there- at the New York State Asylum- the day it happened. You know, I've told this story before, and no one ever believes me. I doubt seriously that you will either. I'm starting to wonder about it myself..."

"Very well... yes, it was the 7th of February, 1945. I was on shift in the hospital, and watching the patient from the observation deck. He was more agitated than usual that day. He was restrained, but this didn't keep him from prowling around his cell like a cat. I watched as he dropped to his knees in the center of his cell and seemed to concentrate for a time. He was quite still... as if he were listening intently. Then he bit hard into his lower lip, until I could see blood filling his mouth."

"I began to call for the attendants at this point, but I have to admit, I was curious as to what he thought he was doing. He spat the blood onto the floor and then squirmed in his straightjacket until his face was very near the spot. Using the tip of his nose- and laughing quietly to himself all the while, most unnervingly- he began to draw the blood out into rough lines. I, of course, notified the doctor at this point, but I rather than going to help with the patient, I found myself... hmm... entranced, I suppose. He continued this painting action for some time, whispering to himself and glancing around furtively, until he had created a large pattern of crimson streaks across the canvas of the floor. He barely acknowledged the door of his cell opening, taking only a moment to glance up into the light. Squinting at the attendants, he smiled and said- and I shant forget the way he said this- 'It's almost time- they are coming.'"

"The attendants laughed at him, and replied something to the effect of 'Yeah, its almost time for your treatment...' and they moved in to restrain him further. I noticed Dr. Godschalk standing in the doorway, preparing a needle. And then... well, that's when it happened. The patient began screaming- or rather wailing- very loudly. It gave me quite a start, as I'm sure it did the attendants. Angrily, they moved toward him, but he capered away, laughing and wailing in his jacket. And that's when I began to notice the room getting darker. Or perhaps it only seemed darker, relative to the odd glow that seemed to be coming from the floor. Where the patient had drawn out his own blood, there was some kind of... distortion, like heat rising from pavement. Do you understand? It was like that, but not the same at all, and it gave off a sort of radiance..."

"The attendants didn't seem to notice at first, but as the shadows in the room got heavier, and the radiance from the floor turned a silverish hue, they stopped and glanced nervously at the doctor. He pulled the door closed behind him and stepped toward the patient, needle in hand. And then... well, It's hard to remember the sequence of events from this point, but I remember hearing Cortez- the patient- laughing wildly, and it was then that the screaming began..."