Hello, gentle listener, and welcome to part two of our two-part presentation of Aaron Vlex, Al-Qatab Al-Gur, being the singular memoir of Ibn Al-Warith, the only known son of Abdul al-Hasred,

called the Mad Arab by some.

Let's rewind just a little and pick up close to where we left off with our protagonist,

having a snack.

The memories that had eluded me these many weeks washed over me with stunning clarity,

a beacon that lighted the mind I'd feared lost to me, forever.

I recalled too that last night with Noosrat and the unspeakable sacrament we had shed.

Ah, I laughed nearly to hysteria.

Then I lifted the rotting arm, gazed upon it approvingly, and shoved the befouled flesh against my starving lips, and fed.

Fed like a beggar feasting at the head of the Caliph's own table. The skin resisted for but a moment before yielding to my teeth and surrendering its bounty to my need.

The unbearable sweetness of the flesh,

so delicate, a nearly liquefied palliative in my mouth

caused me to shudder with delight.

Oh, how I feasted, how I rejoiced, growing stronger by the moment,

and blessing the creature who held me in mortal thrall for his generosity.

And then I slept deep and long, peaceful as a babe, warm and sated, at its mother's breast.

What followed was gestation.

In time, this and many other details would be distilled and codified into the formula of my being, a legacy to be articulated and bequeathed to such parties

that might arise in the wake of my own passing. My guardian's identity continued to allude me, and he refused even to pass the time

of day, or goed me with the belittling taunts so habitual to the custodians of unwilling incarceration.

But the creature was always nearby, observing even the smallest and most humiliating

details of my body and its natural processes. His sole occupation seemed to be twofold. This incessant

...