Recovered Journal — Clinic of the Profane God
Provenance uncertain. Ink composition anomalous. Pages warm to the touch.
Entry I — Intake
The patients arrive believing in cures. We encourage this. Faith lowers resistance.
We record symptoms in familiar terms—melancholia, palsy, tumors of the soul—then translate them into the older taxonomy: fractures of purpose, excess selfhood, insufficient silence.
Consent forms signed. Names crossed out. Only offerings remain.
Entry IV — Procedure
The ritual must resemble medicine. Clean tiles. Steel instruments. White coats.
The God prefers precision over spectacle.
Incisions follow anatomical charts but do not obey anatomy. Pain is guided, not inflicted. Suffering is a language; grammar matters.
Some patients scream. Others listen.
Entry VII — Outcomes
Three classes observed:
Null — expiration without resonance. Bodies disposed beneath the stairwell.
Altered — survivors exhibit new appetites, reversed empathy, persistent murmuring. Suitable for outpatient follow-up.
Votive — rare. The room bends. The God notices.
We are instructed not to rejoice.
Entry IX — Complication
Patient 23 asked what was being cured.
Answering caused tremor in the lamps. The God dislikes definitions.
We now sedate curiosity first.
Entry XII — Expansion
Basement sealed. Crypt reopened.
Local hospitals report missing supplies. We consider this cooperation.
The deity’s strength correlates not with blood volume, but with duration. Prolonged uncertainty yields the richest offerings.
Entry XV — Personal Note
I no longer dream alone.
During procedures, my hands move ahead of thought, tracing sigils I was never taught. I feel less like a surgeon and more like an instrument being calibrated.
This is not corruption. This is specialization.
Final Entry — Discharge
The Clinic is healthy.
The God is improving.
If you are reading this, you are either a replacement
or already on the table.
Please remain still.