Dr. Francis Tumblety's Arc

Chapter 1 of 5

Dr. Francis Tumblety opened his journal to a fresh page and arranged his pens on the desk. The morning light through his office window fell across the blank paper, ready for the next illustration. He had three appointments scheduled, each one another entry for his collection. The flower arrived just before noon. A boy left it on the carved oak workspace without a word, then disappeared down the hall. Francis lifted the bloom by its purple stem and held it toward the window. The petals shifted from pink to violet to something deeper, colors that seemed to pulse. He set it in a glass on his desk and returned to his sketches. The oak grain in the desk began to move. The whorls stretched and twisted like skin under tension. Francis looked up at the mirror across the room. Its surface rippled outward from the center, turning his reflection into something elongated and wrong. He stood and backed away from the desk. The flower sat perfectly still in its glass, petals now glowing faintly. His hand caught his eye. A dark line ran across his palm, branching like the veins in the flower's petals. He touched it and felt nothing. Another line appeared on his wrist. Then his forearm. The deformities he had spent years documenting in others were surfacing on his own skin, spreading with each breath he took. Francis grabbed his journal and shoved it into his coat. The walls bent inward. He left the office and locked the door behind him, the key shaking in his grip.