A scribbled memo

Dearest friend,

I am at my wits end. I am sorry, but I must go on ahead. They are sleeping, but they will wake up eventually. Now's my chance. Just thinking about them makes my hair stand on end...

Their ugly bodies are not of this world; their stench, like rotting organs; and their screams, like echoes from Hell itself. I'm so frightened that I can't stop shaking, even now, as I write this.

Be careful--the bloated blisters on the walls are their eggs. They can regenerate from them.

Please, don't think that I've abandoned you. I did it for my family.

I pray for your safety.