The most frightening part of this story is not the events, which are gruesome, it is not the disjointed manner in which the story is told, not the subject, the characters, or even the end--it is the matter-of-fact way in which the events are related. The narrator-dragged along partly against his will, partly out of curiosity, partly out of fear, and partly, I suspect, out of a genuine desire to help keep his friend from doing something completely stupid--relates the events rather perfunctorily, as if their actions and the results of those actions were completely commonplace and normal.
I noticed today, for the first time really, that depending on the severity of the story, I end up in a kind of dazed stupor after reading. Even if I end on a "lighter" story, I still am less responsive afterwards. They're starting to have a slightly soporific effect on me. Or maybe I notice (call it) that because I just finished "Hypnos"
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