The Fleshless Man
is a creepy novella about monsters inside and outside--monsters in stories and dreams, in sickness, and in people we love, as well as those we should love but don't. Now these monsters aren't the sort that can crush you or tear you apart with sharp incisors. No, the monsters here are decrepit, repulsive, and needy. They slurp and drool as you feed them, and feed them you must, for, like the superstitions of sailors, killing such perversions of nature could threaten our own survival--or so they say, and we fear they might be right. But we dream of killing them--those who linger painfully in life and bring us dis-ease. Yes, for me, this somewhat disjointed novella was about monsters.