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my heart's an autoclave

Summary:

Statement of Mr. Harry D.S. Goodsir, surgeon on the ship HMS Erebus, about a series of odd voices and odd thoughts moving through the ship's crew. Statement begins.

Notes:

All spelling mistakes and weird grammatical choices are courtesy of Mr. Harry "my dad dragged me once for my piss-poor spelling" Goodsir himself.

Work Text:

From the notes of Harry Goodsir, surgeon to HMS Erebus. Currently housed in the archives of the Magnus Institute.

I have butchered Billy Gibson today.

I did not do so on my own volition, but due to the actions of a Certain Blackguard named Cornelius Hickey. He is the leader of this band of Mutiners which have kidnapped me. In order to spare Lieutenant George Hodgson from Certain Mutilations, I agreed to butcher the corpse known in life as Billy Gibson.

I take no pleazure in Admitting this and can only hope that History looks upon me kindly. I only ask for History instead of the Almighty because God cannot look upon me even if He so wished.

The first thing I did was to remove the identifyng parts. The Head, the Feet, the Hands, anything that made the pile of flesh in front of me resemble the living man it once was. I placed them beneath the cot before I started to butcher the flesh. I only cut the Meat from the Bone, leaving the skeleton and internal organs intact. I know that drinking the Marrow from the Bone may stave off hunger, as that is a method used by some members of Native Tribes in times of Dire Need, but I am keeping that informaton to myself. I may feed them, but I do not want those men to live.

Is it cruel to think that? If so, let me be Cruel. If these men seek to drive me from Decency, then I shall bend, not break. I will become Indecent only to spite them.

When I am finished with the Rotten Work, Mister Hickey clasps his hand on my shoulder. “Now that wasnt so hard, was it?” he says with hunger in his eyes. It is harder than that man, that fiend could ever know but I keep my Thoughts to myself. I will not give him the Satisfacton.


I Write this by cover of moonlight as I cannot turn on a lanturn to see. There is someone in the tent next to Mine, the tent where the deceased Billy Gibson is stored and I do not wish them to see Me. I do not know what they are doing, but from the Noises I hear, I know they are up to no good. There is the horrible cracking of bone, the splintering of the limbs, the dull Thud of something rendering flesh. A knife? What else can it be? I sit, tense, watching and listening as I hear the Horrible Sounds of bone and flesh being torn asoonder.

It is like nothing one has ever heard before. I am familiar with the noise, of course, as bones often have to be set and flesh has to be rendered during one’s Anatomicul Studies. But there is a Heightened Power to this Noise, something that takes the crack of bone, the tear of flesh, and drives it right into the core of my Very Matter. It is all I can hear. And so I sit and I wait. I listen as I hear the Sucking Sounds of something ripped from the very body. And then all is silence.

A Man has left the tent. Cornelius Hickey. I do not see his face nor his hands, but I recognise the man by his gait. Once I am certain he has retird to his Tent, I leave mine so that I may look upon the horror that man hath wrought.

Billy Gibson’s chest lies on the cot where I last left it. But Billy Gibson’s chest has no heart.


The Thought of that monster cutting out Billy Gibson’s heart leaves me cold. For what purpose? Why did he need that? Plenty of suspicions arise but I believe that Cornelius Hickey took that man’s heart to consume it. It cannot be for Sustanace. I have provided them with Meat. Why make me Butcher that man if you wish to Butcher him yourself?

That makes me believe that Hickey has consumed the heart for other reasons. Perhaps it is due to some Delusion of the Mind that he feels he must consume the heart of Billy Gibson.

I do not know.

I do not know if I wish to know.


George Hodgson has complained to me about hearing Voices. The Man has taken poorly to his role in Hickey’s camp. I see him sitting at the outside at the supper table, even now using a Nife and Fork as befitting a Man of his Station. He has not even tried to assume a pozition of Leadership as a Lieutenant ought to. He simply exists at the side.

He complains to me that he hears Voices in the night. They whisper to him, dripping Words of Venom in his Ear. Rend. Bite. Destroy. Eat. Solomon Tozer lies in the Tent next to yours. Take your Teeth and clamp down on his Neck. Tear. Eat.

“I want to live,” he tells me. “But I know myself. I am no monster. I want to live, I do not want to do these things that I hear. I do not want to...to destroy.”

I ask if he has told anyone Else about this. He replies that he has not.

It is the Scurvy, I tell him. It Poisons your mind as it has Poisoned Mister Morfin’s. Pay no heed to the words and Sleep.

I feel he has Believed me even as I lie to him. Because this is not the Scurvy. I have Watched the men ever since what befel Mister Morfin. I did not want to let something like that hapen again. And, if I am being Honest with myself, I did not want to Suffer through something like that again. I do not know why my Body reacted as it did when Morfin was Shot. But it was Terrifying.

Hogdson may be a Fool, but he is a Fool with all of his wits. This is Something Else.


Two other Men have complained of hearing Voices in the Night. Two other Men report the same thing that George Hodgson has heard. Two other Men say that they have not told anyone else what they hear. Manson has not talked of this to Hodgson or Diggle. Diggle has not talked of this to Hodgson or Manson.

It has come to this. I must talk with Mister Hickey.

I see the man standing on a Hill, watching the Sun. He does not seem to Blink. “Mister Goodsir,” he says with a Smile on his face. “Care to join me?”

I ignore the Question. “Several of the men have come to complain about hearing Voices during the night. Is this your doing?”

He can only laugh. “You and I both know there are Things here that are unexplainabul, Mister Goodsir. Why try to explain them? Why not simply accept things As They Are?”

“Accepting things As They Are would mean accepting the desires of those Voices. They tell men to Kill. To Eat.”

“They why dont you? I have offered to let you Break Bread with us, Mister Goodsir. The next time it happns I will make the same offer. There is nothing wrong with living.”

“Answer my question”

“Those Voices aren’t my doing. Those Voices are Something Else. I hear them too, Mister Goodsir. But they say something a little bit different to me.”

His eyes shine like a man drunk. His voice is that of a man enthralled. Whatever secrets they whisper to Cornelius Hickey are things that I do Not Wish to Know but there is something else that still gnaws at my Brain. And so I ask “Why did you eat the heart of Billy Gibson?”

The man that looks over at me is Not Cornelius Hickey. The man that looks over at me is Something Else. He is something lean, something hungry. There are Too Many Teeth for the man’s head.

A second passes before his Features shift back to those of Cornelius Hickey. I do not say what I have Seen I do not even know if I have truly Seen it myself. I know I am Ill this must be the Illness.

“Thats what they told me to do. And that made them stronger. I don’t hear Whispers like Hodgson and Manson do. I hear them as clearly as I hear you Speaking to me.”

I know my face must have Turned Pale because that devil only laughs. It is not a large belly laugh nor is it something maniacal. It is only a small Chuckle. “They have plans for this place, Mister Goodsir. They have plans for Me. And I’m going to make them Happen.”

It is only later that I realize I did not tell him the Names of the men who heard those Voices. How did he know their Names?


They have brought the Captain today.

I wonder how long it will be until he hears the Voice until he feels the need to Eat for they will make him Eat, unlike me and if they make him Eat, then he shall hear the Voice as well.

This Place remains Beautiful to me, even now. But the Voices are not of this Place

If I can do one Small Thing with my Death, then I hope it is this I hope those men consume me eat ye the flesh of Harry Goodsir the Corruption of my Body will drive out whatever Evil threatens to take root. they will all simply Die.

I hope it is the latter.

I cannot tell the Captain of what I am doing but I shall Warn him Eat of my Heel, only the smallest slice eat the toughest part of Flesh. Do not Indulge like the rest perhaps it is in Indulging that they hear the Voice instead of the act of eating

I do not know

I cannot know

I am no fool I know these words Shall Not Reach England. But if they do, then Heed my Warning. do not come here do not try to Find me do not try to seek out what has Happened do not look for Answers simply leave this Place and leave your Corroson behind do not come here leave me go do not find me

Tell my family that I love them but tell them No More tell Silna that I love her but tell her No More

Thus ends the Writings of Harry Goodsir.