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From beyond. From Beyond by HP Lovecraft.

Horrible, beyond conception was the change which had taken place in my best friend, Crawford Tillinghast. I had not seen him since that day two months and a half before when he had told me

toward what goal his physical and metaphysical researchers were leading, when he had answered

my awed and almost frightened remonstrances by driving me from

his laboratory and his house in a burst of fanatical rage.

I had known that he now remained mostly shut in the attic laboratory with that

cursed electrical machine eating little and excluding even the servants.

But I have not thought that a brief period of 10 weeks could so alter and disfigure any human creature.

It is not pleasant to see a stout man suddenly grown thin, and it is even worse when the baggy skin becomes yellowed or grayed.

The eyes sunken, circled, and uncannally glowing, the forehead veined and corrugated,

and the hands tremulous and twitching.

And if added to this there be a repellent unkemptness, a wild disorder of dress, a bushiness of dark

hair whited the roots, and an unchecked growth of pure white beard on a face once clean

shaven. The cumulative effect is quite shocking. But such was the aspect of

Crawford Tillinghast on the night. his half-coherent message brought me to his door

after my weeks of exile. Such the specter that trembled as it admitted me, candle in hand,

and glanced furtively over its shoulder as if fearful of unseen things

in the ancient lonely house sat back from Benevolent Street. That Crawford Tillinghask should ever have studied science and philosophy was a mistake.

These things should be left to the frigid and impersonal investigator, for they offer two equally

tragic alternatives to the man of feeling and action, despair if he fail in his quest, and terrors unutterable and unimaginable if he succeed.

Tillinghast had once been the prey of failure, solitary and melancholy, but now I knew,

...