Quaggoth broke out of his marble cage with a scream. It sounded like a summer forest fire popping from pine tree to pine tree, and he howled into the wind that could have carried it. The cage had been shaped like a statue of a Roman god.

Quaggoth was definitely too hairy to be a god.  Quaggoth saw the world through the eyes of a child. Sometimes everything seemed crystal clear, but other times it was as if he looked through fabulously tinted pieces of plastic. It was said at the haunted pools, when he had first been caged, when the stone moved to harden the fluid of his thoughts, that the whole world was made out of a drug called acid. Quaggoth thought acid was used for dissolving skeletons and starting cars. 

Quaggoth summoned his long lost baby brother, now that he was free, as chunks of flame began to fall out of the tall trees. He was sitting on a mound of dirt that had used to be bones. Maybe they were right when they had said that the world was made out of acid. His brother came running, carrying all sorts of weapons for him to use. But he refused to fight any more, insisting that his friends do it instead. He would concentrate that the battle was a mere illusion.   Quaggoth stared into the eyes of all the witches surrounding him. When they were gone, only one face remained.