The first tooth appeared while you were combing your hair in the bathroom. It was clearly outlined in your peripheral vision, and so close that your eyelids began to twitch from reflex- yet there was nothing to be seen in the mirror at all. You tried unplugging the mirror and plugging it back in again, but the teeth refused to appear to anyone except yourself. Over the course of the next month, they began increasing in number- you swore that you could feel several under your own skin. 

Next came the stripes- long dark bands of colorlessness that curled and folded like eels swimming through the aether. They’d slither along your skin from time to time, or lurk next to your bed while you failed to sleep. Sometimes you’d close your eyes, and sixteen more would be staring back at you- cold marbles of malignant citrine jammed into your optical nerve. Behind them was a wall of solid bone, somewhere between a mountain and a skull, confirming your worst fears.

The tesseractive tiger is closing its jaws around your future. You can only see your death in cross sections, but someday soon you will disappear into the dungeon of its stomach.