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Brain not cooperating with braining in the right direction. So. Microfiction.
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Blake shuddered. There were so many things wrong with what he was seeing that he could barely enumerate them. It was like a kid’s drawing of a glow worm, lumpy and misshapen and as long as two men.
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Blake shuddered. There were so many things wrong with what he was seeing that he could barely enumerate them. It was like a kid’s drawing of a glow worm, lumpy and misshapen and as long as two men.
And, like a picture of a glow worm, it was lit with an eerie internal phosphorescence that showed the thick pulsing veins and organs through the eerie pale flesh. As Blake watched, three… antennae? tentacles? on its head waved, turning in his direction. Oh crap.
He realized the horrible thing was actually covered in tiny iridescent scales that scattered the light from inside like prisms, coating the thing in a glistening rainbow as it shifted its bulk.
The strange beauty actually made it even more horrible, nothing that… wrong should glitter with such beautiful rainbow light like that.
It wasn’t until it moved, turning toward him, that he realized it wasn’t really a worm at all.
It wasn’t until it moved, turning toward him, that he realized it wasn’t really a worm at all.
As the beast turned further, it lifted up on pale yellow-green insectile legs that clicked as they stepped on the tile floor. Jointed in three places they shined in the creature’s own lurid light.
The creature lifted higher and stepped forwards, clicking ominously on the tile. Those legs looked sharper than was safe. A hysterical laugh threatened to bubble out of Blake’s chest. As if anything about this thing looked in any way “safe.”
Its body sagged between the legs, like a giant caterpillar on stilts. Oh god, he really was cracking up, like any caterpillar could come close to this bulging horror.
He backed slowly toward the door as the thing began to move forward. It swung, the clicking making an odd rhythm that set Blake’s teeth on edge. As it moved, it whined, a low keening that sounded like a crying child and a low wind at once.
Blake’s hand hit the doorknob and turned it, hoping to slip out before the thing got agitated and… did whatever terrible thing that horrible, impossible beasts did.
The knob turned and caught. Locked. Those tentacles waved in his direction again and the thing keened, opening a mouth the size of a dinner plate with layered rasping teeth. The circular marks on the walls that looked like a disk grinder…
Blake felt a warmth down his leg and smelled a sharp pungent odor.
He was going to die.
He was going to die.
