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Zalgo...

And he came in smoke and crackling shadows, and his fire was blacker than the abyss itself.
His voice split the heavens, tore flesh from bones, and none hid.
For he was the beginning of decay, and the end of time.
He put his rotten hand into the heart of the world and twisted the breath of life.
And from every sound his name spread, seven tongues, seven slaughters.
Children cried out to their mothers, but their mothers could not speak, for their lips were stuck together in pitch and blood.
Darkness crept from the edge of the world, and every shadow found a voice.
"He comes," they whispered, "He is already here. Zalgo with a thousand faces, bringer of misfortune."
And the world choked in his eye, for his eye was a hole through which the end flows.