$100.00
**Innsmouth, Low Tide**
**CONTROLLED COURSES — “The Thrall Of Hypno”**
*Painting + lathe LP + mix CD*
The inn had no name anymore. The sign creaked anyway. Salt varnished everything into a soft rot that felt almost affectionate. We brought the record inside because it felt wrong to leave it with the sea, and because romance sometimes looks like carrying fragile things into bad places.
The painting leaned against the radiator—still warm after centuries of trying. Faces in it refused to settle on one species. The lathe LP spun slowly, deliberately, as if it needed our consent. When the needle touched, the sound did not begin; it *noticed us*. That was Hypno’s trick. Not control. Recognition.
Outside, Innsmouth breathed. Inside, the music smoothed the room like a hand calming a nervous animal.
Between tracks, the liner notes grew practical—almost domestic. **Recognizing skin allergies in dogs**, it said, written in a careful script that wanted to help without taking over. The romance deepened there. Care is intimate. Care is terrifying. Care requires you to watch closely.
The music showed symptoms without panic.
Red, inflamed passages flared, then cooled.
Hair fell out of the mix—entire frequencies thinning, pale and exposed.
Flaky textures crackled like old paint lifting from wood.
A dog—real or remembered—paced the room. Its paws traced loops in time. **Obsessive paw-licking** became rhythm, a pattern that stained the sound but never overwhelmed it. Between the toes of the audio spectrum, things went raw, then healed a little, then went raw again. Hypno didn’t flinch.
Hives arrived suddenly: raised welts in the waveform, bulging harmonics that appeared without warning. The music didn’t explain them. It let them pass.
You sat close. That mattered. The sea noticed.
---
### FLOW CART I: LISTENING AS CARE
```
ENVIRONMENT
|
v
OBSERVE (redness / flaking / dropout)
|
v
IDENTIFY PATTERN
| \
v v
ENVIRONMENTAL INGESTED / DELAYED
| |
v v
REDUCE EXPOSURE WAIT & MONITOR
\ /
v v
CALM / CLEAN / CONTINUE LISTENING
|
v
RELIEF (TEMPORARY)
```
*Margin note:* “Do not rush the sea.”
---
The painting watched us listen. Its eyes softened as the mix CD took over—warmer, more forgiving, less sharp around the edges. The romance lived there: adjusting the volume together, pausing when the sound scratched too hard, trusting it to resume.
Innsmouth has a reputation for hunger. Hypno answered with restraint.
---
### SELECTED REVIEWS (FOUND TUCKED INSIDE THE SLEEVE)
**★ ★ ★ ★ ★ — The Brackish Listener**
*“A love record disguised as a warning. The lathe teaches patience. I stopped itching just by paying attention.”*
**★ ★ ★ ★ — Wharf Static Quarterly**
*“Deeply unsettling, oddly tender. The way symptoms are allowed to appear without judgment feels… responsible.”*
**★ ★ ★ ★ ★ — Salt Lung Review**
*“Hypno doesn’t cure. It manages. That’s rarer, and more romantic, than miracles.”*
**★ ★ ★ — Municipal Siren (Retired)**
*“I wanted answers. I got a flow. Still thinking about it.”*
---
The notes turned careful again. **Treatment is layered**, they suggested—not instructions, not doses, just a sequence of gentleness. Keep the skin calm. Keep the room clean. Remove what irritates when possible. Monitor changes. Ask for help when things escalate. Hypno refuses bravado.
---
### FLOW CART II: SYMPTOM TO SOUND TRANSLATION
```
ITCH / LICK LOOP
|
v
REPETITION (tick, tick, tick)
|
v
RAW PATCH (distortion bloom)
|
v
PAUSE / LOWER INTENSITY
|
v
RECOVERY DRONE (warm, low)
```
*Footnote:* “Loops break when acknowledged.”
---
We loved each other the way the record loved the room: by not pushing. By letting the tide be the tide. Outside, Innsmouth shifted its weight. Inside, the dog slept, paws unstained for now. The painting relaxed. The lathe slowed as if satisfied.
When the needle lifted, nothing was fixed. But nothing was worse. In Innsmouth, that’s a vow.
Edition of 1.