AN: I recently read the outsider, and I think it's one of the best things I've ever read. I loved it. Horror really speaks to me, and it seems Lovecraft, as a horror writer, does so best of all. So, I've decided to write a horror fanfiction on a topic that does scare me. Mary Sues. As a writer, I am terrified and enthralled by these horrifically perfect beings. I also doubt myself when it comes to what beauty and truth are, so those are major themes. It's also an attempt at imitating a writing style that particularly draws me in. The Outsider belongs to HP Lovecraft, not to me. Ebony Raven Dark'ness Dementia Way also does not belong to me.

I don't remember much of my past. All I remember is this castle.

It's beautiful. Gorgeous. No, wait, it should be…

It is, but there's something else. Behind the ridiculously gilded and decorated, spacious and joyous halls, it's not right. I don't know how to explain it. Maybe things are what they seem, but what was conquers, never fully hidden from view. When my fellow castle-dwellers commune with a veritable plethora of spirits, I notice things they don't. They speak joyously of a magnificent encounter with a lover, or some great victory, or the birth of a ghost of a child. For most, everything goes their way in these strange dreams. What seems like hours for others is a lifetime for them, living somewhere else entirely. I have not yet done such a thing, and I wonder if it's truly good.

You see, there's one covenant we castle-dwellers all follow. One does not enter the dreaming rooms when it isn't one's time. I followed it well in my youth, believing it to be an inevitable, future wonder. But, when my friend Emerald was called to join the dreamers, she was nervous. I knew I should have told her I'd be there when she came back. Obeyed the covenant. I couldn't let her go in alone.

No secret force kept me from entering the room with my friend. I was slightly surprised by this; the castle was magical, with a will of its own. It made no attempt to stop me. I held her hand as she began to see visions. I too did, but by the blissful smile on her face, I suspect they were of a completely different nature.

I saw disgust, anger, hatred. Dull-looking faces,far removed from the myriadic rainbow of hair and eye colors and cherubic beauty found among those I had known, laughed cruelly or angrily cast visions in contrast to that which my friend saw; other people, some human, others alien. They were like us, but different in ways I couldn't comprehend. They made mistakes, they failed; intertwined with victories. Sorrows came, and joys too, and some pressed on. They didn't have the power to magically fix any bad situation, they were held down by responsibilities, or suffered from an unhealthy lack of them. These people, so alien, should have eluded my ability to sympathize, but I saw yet more.

They were tortured. Worse than any physical pain, their souls were torn at by humanoid hands, prying at whatever they saw fit. The faces of their ghosts contorted in pure agony. These were presented to Emerald, naked and screaming for the mercy of death. Yet Emerald simply smiled, and like a puppeteer, began to manipulate them. A twisted love story began to form before my eyes, terribly unlike the ones my companions spoke of. Creatures so unwilling. Flawed and ugly though they were, I knew in my heart they did not deserve this.

I screamed and scratched at the door, desperate to escape, to stop seeing. I squealed in pain as I broke a perfectly painted nail in the attempt. It gave me the desire to escape the castle. Suddenly, the door opened before me, the pain ceased and my nail magically grew back. I should have suspected that would happen. Wounds never lasted long here, and physical death was just as temporary. Sometimes, people would dissappear, never to be seen again. That was death, in this enchanted castle I feared I may never have had the chance to escape.

I soon found myself suspended in midair. My mind told me that the castle was deciding what to do with me. I knew my crime, but I didn't know how heinous it was. My interminable waiting for judgement finished as I heard a voice in my head, "You will meet The Outsider in an hour. Perhaps this will teach you not to question me. It's an unpleasant assignment, but I have my ways of making it pleasant enough. For you, at least. I ought to force you into the dream right now, but out of kindness, I offer you an hour to prepare. You had better be grateful."

I made a mad scramble towards the library, desperate to find out how I might prevent the horrors my friend had been so complicit in. After a short search, I found the anthology I was looking for, revised and unrevised. I took both off the shelves. As I passed by the reference section to begin my research, I noticed a book called Ordinary Humans and Why They're Inferior. I picked that up, too. I don't know what I wanted to get from it, but I hoped it might help me.

The unrevised story was about a ghoul escaping from a strange and horrible afterlife to the living world, discovering the horrifying creature he truly was in the process. It seemed dark, more the domain of a passing aquaintance by the name of Ebony, than mine. The revised story was somehow more horrifying. One of us, refered to as the OC, completely changed his nature. He talked, no, he sang. With the help of the OC, he was brought back to life, and fallen in love. That should have seemed beautiful and wonderful. I understood why none of my fellow OCs here objected. But I have seen what they haven't. Shadows of true beauty, what should be. Replaced with something else. Replaced with me?

I have seen myself in the mirror. I am beautiful. Everyone here is, in their way. Tears of terror at what was to come streaming down my cheeks, I went to a mirror. As usual, my long raven hair with a midnight blue sheen glowed in the pale moonlight. My eyes, as pale as the moon itself, gracefully looked back, reflecting total forgiveness for the transgressions I made that day. For a split second, I thought I managed to catch the ghost of the red eyes and nose of a human who has been crying. As soon as my sparkling eyes focused, it was gone. My tears instead lay in moonlit lakes, sometimes letting a serene drop loose. Which one was true, then? Like the outsider I would soon meet, I could take looking in the gilded mirror no longer.

I began to count the minutes on the clock as they ticked away, until it was my time to dream. I was not unprepared. I made sure to bring my makeup, my magic amulet and my scissors. I would do what I must. The poor man suffered enough in his own narrative, and I swore I would do him no more harm.

(To be Continued)