Concealed Note

I am held captive by a species I am unfamiliar with. They lack sensibility and intelligence. As if their brains have rotted.

They are creating a vile concoction of serpent skin, insect frass, and even a splash of their own spit. I assume they will force me to take it.

I’d fear my death more if I wasn’t so perplexed about the recipe that will reap my last breath.

Yes, this will indeed be my end.