my hairline seemed to be receding at a constant rate, my brush would regularly become clogged with hairs after my thirty-first year. at one point, when it was perhaps a third way gone, i was bewildered to feel a crustiness to the scalp. visually the skin looked normal, except for a slight discoloration close to the line of remaining hair, though with a curious scaliness like that of a reptile. my curiosity over it diminished quickly over the coming years, as i threw myself into a bout of good work which came upon me quite unexpectedly. it was not until close to a decade later, when my hair was mostly gone but for a few lone wisps, that it became apparent once again. strangely coincident, were the slight but sudden changes to both my physique and eating habits. i had shrunken, physically, my back becoming hunched, my neck to an almost horizontal level, which felt curiously right, as if i was resuming some old posture long forgotten. i had also taken to eating greater quantities of meat, often very rare or raw like that of steak tartar. my olifactory senses sharpened as well, i could often smell the scents of people i knew in town before i even saw them. i took these changes in stride, becoming almost thrilled at my new-found eccentricities. soon, however, when my skin had sunken and paled, my eyes narrowing and shining with keenness, the townsfolk began whispering, often pointing and looking upon me strangely, almost fearfully. at first i was saddened by these new incidences, but as time passed a great anger began to build deep within me. i cursed those who whispered behind my back, those who warned their children not to come close to me. a strange savageness overtook me, so that at midnight, when it was worst, i took to the darkened streets. by the light of the moon, i killed, i ate, i murdered; with no prejudice but my insatiable hunger for raw meat, and the blessings of my devilish kin in the depths of the earth.