My grandfather told me a story when I was a child, about the renaming of Constantinople to Istanbul. That isn't entirely true, though. His story didn't directly relate to the renaming, but it was during the same time period -- the 1920's -- and in the named place.

My grandfather had been traveling the world after acquiring a modest fortune. He worked as an archaeologist part time, and he'd uncovered a rare type of fossil. Now, my grandfather could have saved the money and kept the family rich, but he was always one for adventure. All of the awarded money was quickly spent from exploring the most random of places in the world.

He met a strange man in Istanbul who went by the alias Fuhrer. My grandfather never found out who he was, but the mystery surrounding the man always remained... Fuhrer wore a beaten up dark blue trench coat and nondescript black pants. My grandfather always said that there was something strange about the way Fuhrer looked at him -- something about his eyes, or maybe his nose, or hair, or anything.

My grandfather became friends with Fuhrer for a short while, and they occasionally bumped into each other on the streets. One day Fuhrer approached my grandfather with a wild look in his eyes, screaming about someone coming after him. My grandfather was understandably bewildered by Fuhrer's sudden insane behavior, but he cooperated with his wishes anyways.

Fuhrer led my grandfather to an empty building on the outskirts of the city. It looked like it had been abandoned in mid-construction. My grandfather told me that he barely remembered what the inside of the place looked like, but what he did remember was the assortment of cans (empty as well as full), sodas, and multiple loaves of bread, most of which were covered in mold.

Fuhrer directed my grandfather to hide in a cabinet in the kitchen. My grandfather was, needless to say, unnerved at this point, but he still complied. He waited for minutes, while all he could hear were Fuhrer's restless footsteps pacing back and forth just outside the kitchen.

Then there was a strange noise. My grandfather described it as, "like a dog being scorched by an intense fire." Following the noise were unexplained shouts in a language that my grandfather didn't understand. He always said that the language couldn't have possibly originated from this world. It was too exotic. But then Fuhrer screamed furiously at whomever had shouted before, in the same language.

There was a harsh whirling sound, like an immense wind wreaking havoc on the world. The cabinet shook violently, and Fuhrer screamed and screamed. The madness continued for what must have been a horrifying ten minutes, while the sound of destruction surrounded the cabinet. Finally the door of the cabinet was torn off its hinges, and my grandfather caught sight of... something. The wind still blew, and it obscured his vision slightly, but he saw it.

Standing at the other side of the kitchen was a person. But their arms were abnormally long and covered in sores. There wasn't a single inch of its arms that weren't bulging with the pus-filled lumps. The thing's legs were uneven, so one of them was bent painfully backwards to match the height of the shorter leg. The back of its head wore a bloody crack, which glowed a mysterious light. My grandfather stared at the entity in absolute terror, until it looked back at him and smiled.

Its face was barely human. Its nose was flat, and the nostrils extended up to the middle of its forehead. It had no upper lip, but the lower lip was present, and stuck out from the rest of its flat face. One of its eyes was surrounded by the same sores that covered its arms, and it was clouded and bloodshot. The very moment that my grandfather made eye contact with it, it vanished into thin air and the wind halted immediately.

Shocked, my grandfather shakily stumbled out of the cabinet and looked around. The inside of the building was completely unharmed. It was in the exact same condition it had been when he'd first entered. But on the floor... was Fuhrer's lifeless and destroyed body. His chest had been torn open, and all of his organs had been removed save for his heart. The heart still sat in his chest, although disconnected from arteries.

It was still beating.

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