Discord
12-01-2023, 04:54 AM
You pat your pockets just in case.
Your phone, keys, and pills are all still there.
With that, you get down to business.
Not far from the door, you spot a rack of backpacks.
They're simple, not too big, and look pretty cheaply-made - you doubt they'd hold together well with strain - but they'll do.
Though, most you can see are in various camouflage patterns.
Against your better judgment of wanting to act quickly, you take the time to sift through them.
They are, in fact, all in camouflage patterns.
You resign yourself and grab one of the pink and purple camouflage backpacks,
zipping it open,
stuffing in whatever you can think of that fits.
A first aid kit, pain relievers, bandages.
A pack of two flashlights.
Various nonperishable food:
Packs of jerky, protein bars, dried fruit, some canned food, some bottles of water.
Some coffee, too, while you're at it.
You feel a twinge of guilt.
Or at least, worry that you could be jumping to conclusions, acting rash.
You hurry and finish up, grabbing a small tool kit and cramming it in.
There's almost no room left.
On a whim, you snag a tiny notebook and some pens and stuff them in the backpack.
You zip it up.
The rattling noise from before returns.
Or maybe you'd drowned it out in all your focusing.
Either way, you hear it.
There's a long, sharp-looking screwdriver next to the tool boxes.
You kneel down carefully to pick it up, staying quiet.
With it in hand, you--
A horrid, metallic CRUNCH rings in the air.
A metal doorknob flies past the aisle you're at.
You gasp and duck away on instinct.
Your elbow lands against bottles of motor oil as you fall back,
which subsequently clatter their way down to the floor behind you.
Terror roots you to the spot.
Some part of you can't bear to move.
Your heart beats faster.
You hear
soft footfalls that sound
off -
almost Wet, akin to someone lightly tapping freshly-caught fish to tile floor -
approaching.
Your chest starts to hurt.
Your pounding heart
slows
you Hear it
Your heart
beating
Outside Your Body.
You look up.
Before you is a creature you don't have time to fathom.
Standing like a tripod on three legs.
Only slight hints of a torso and head, with no arms.
Shades of teal mark its translucent body - looking somewhere between squid limbs, a kitchen sponge, and water snake toys in texture.
A deeper aquamarine fluid pumps through bright orange, simplistic, organ-like structures around its body - watching the motion makes you feel sick somehow.
At its midsection, slightly to the left side;
the largest organ, almost spherical in nature
pumps, in a slow rhythm.
Your own heart
mirrors every beat.
In Perfect Sync.
Before you can think
of anything else
you realize
the creature's heartbeat
is still slowing
as is yours.
It Hurts.
You clutch your chest with a pained whimper.
You try your best to back away, to stand.
But you can't feel your fingers.
The creature follows along with you, anyway.
Gently.
Patiently.
You smack at your chest with your best approximation of a closed fist.
Your movements are slow.
You cough.
Nothing helps.
You feel cold and sluggish
The radio speaker overhead screeches with static.
The creature loses focus.
Your heart resumes.
Once.
Twice.
You use everything you have to grip the screwdriver tight
and Plunge into one of the creature's legs;
it's all you can reach.
It soaks the floor with blue-green fluid as the limb deflates, giving the creature a limp.
It's otherwise unperturbed.
The speaker shorts out, goes quiet.
You pull the screwdriver back out.
Its attention is on You again.
You don't finish another strike as both hearts once more grow still.
Despite the lack of a face
you feel like it's staring at you
as the edges of your vision begin to fuzz over.
your thoughts slow
you curse your hybrid anatomy
for having a heart at all
A gunshot thuds dull in your bloodless ears.
One heartbeat.
Two.
Three.
You open your eyes a little.
You hadn't realized you'd closed them.
The creature's head drips teal fluid onto your shoe
as you watch it turn towards the door.
Four.
Two more gunshots
tear through the air
and rip through the orange heart at the creature's middle.
Five.
Six.
You move your arms again.
The creature slumps into itself
and falls.
Seven.
Eight.
Nine.
Ten.
Your heart beats on its own.
You can feel your fingers again.
You watch as someone -
a white, brown-and-blue-spotted bat with a large tail, holding a revolver -
walks in front of your aisle
and Slams their boot down on the creature with a horrible squelch.
You groan, sliding your legs along the tile as you try to gain enough traction to get up.
They turn to you.
"...hell--"
The bat places their firearm in a holster at their side.
"You good?
I gotcha. Here."
Their free paw grasps your arm, and hefts you up to your feet with surprising strength.
They drape your arm over their neck, using their own to shoulder you.
"C'mon, we're goin', okay?
I gotcha, but do y'r best to walk if you can, yea?
We'll move faster that way."
Most of you still feels numb, and disoriented.
And you're very tired.
Your eyes close.
You hear the gas station door open,
then close behind you.
The bat's paw nudges your shoulder.
"Hey hey, stay with me.
Keep awake.
You pass out n' I gotta carry ya, and I won't have a free hand if somethin' like that comes around again.
So, whatever y' gotta do to stay awake.
...What'd that thing do t'ya?
Anything y' can tell me?
Y'r name works, too.
Aubrey. By th' way."
Your phone, keys, and pills are all still there.
With that, you get down to business.
Thoughts:
Not far from the door, you spot a rack of backpacks.
They're simple, not too big, and look pretty cheaply-made - you doubt they'd hold together well with strain - but they'll do.
Though, most you can see are in various camouflage patterns.
Against your better judgment of wanting to act quickly, you take the time to sift through them.
They are, in fact, all in camouflage patterns.
Thoughts:
You resign yourself and grab one of the pink and purple camouflage backpacks,
zipping it open,
stuffing in whatever you can think of that fits.
A first aid kit, pain relievers, bandages.
A pack of two flashlights.
Various nonperishable food:
Packs of jerky, protein bars, dried fruit, some canned food, some bottles of water.
Some coffee, too, while you're at it.
You feel a twinge of guilt.
Or at least, worry that you could be jumping to conclusions, acting rash.
Thoughts:
You hurry and finish up, grabbing a small tool kit and cramming it in.
There's almost no room left.
On a whim, you snag a tiny notebook and some pens and stuff them in the backpack.
You zip it up.
The rattling noise from before returns.
Or maybe you'd drowned it out in all your focusing.
Either way, you hear it.
Thoughts:
There's a long, sharp-looking screwdriver next to the tool boxes.
You kneel down carefully to pick it up, staying quiet.
With it in hand, you--
A horrid, metallic CRUNCH rings in the air.
A metal doorknob flies past the aisle you're at.
You gasp and duck away on instinct.
Your elbow lands against bottles of motor oil as you fall back,
which subsequently clatter their way down to the floor behind you.
▶ Lipstick to Void
Mica Levi
Mica Levi
Terror roots you to the spot.
Some part of you can't bear to move.
Your heart beats faster.
You hear
soft footfalls that sound
off -
almost Wet, akin to someone lightly tapping freshly-caught fish to tile floor -
approaching.
Your chest starts to hurt.
Your pounding heart
slows
you Hear it
Your heart
beating
Outside Your Body.
You look up.
Before you is a creature you don't have time to fathom.
Standing like a tripod on three legs.
Only slight hints of a torso and head, with no arms.
Shades of teal mark its translucent body - looking somewhere between squid limbs, a kitchen sponge, and water snake toys in texture.
A deeper aquamarine fluid pumps through bright orange, simplistic, organ-like structures around its body - watching the motion makes you feel sick somehow.
At its midsection, slightly to the left side;
the largest organ, almost spherical in nature
pumps, in a slow rhythm.
Your own heart
mirrors every beat.
In Perfect Sync.
Before you can think
of anything else
you realize
the creature's heartbeat
is still slowing
as is yours.
It Hurts.
You clutch your chest with a pained whimper.
You try your best to back away, to stand.
But you can't feel your fingers.
The creature follows along with you, anyway.
Gently.
Patiently.
You smack at your chest with your best approximation of a closed fist.
Your movements are slow.
You cough.
Nothing helps.
You feel cold and sluggish
▶ Black Box
Dean Hurley
Dean Hurley
The radio speaker overhead screeches with static.
The creature loses focus.
Your heart resumes.
Once.
Twice.
You use everything you have to grip the screwdriver tight
and Plunge into one of the creature's legs;
it's all you can reach.
It soaks the floor with blue-green fluid as the limb deflates, giving the creature a limp.
▶ Lipstick to Void (4:51)
Mica Levi
Mica Levi
It's otherwise unperturbed.
The speaker shorts out, goes quiet.
You pull the screwdriver back out.
Its attention is on You again.
You don't finish another strike as both hearts once more grow still.
Despite the lack of a face
you feel like it's staring at you
as the edges of your vision begin to fuzz over.
your thoughts slow
you curse your hybrid anatomy
for having a heart at all
A gunshot thuds dull in your bloodless ears.
One heartbeat.
Two.
Three.
You open your eyes a little.
You hadn't realized you'd closed them.
The creature's head drips teal fluid onto your shoe
as you watch it turn towards the door.
Four.
Two more gunshots
tear through the air
and rip through the orange heart at the creature's middle.
Five.
Six.
You move your arms again.
The creature slumps into itself
and falls.
▶ You Can Talk To Me
Kyle Dixon & Michael Stein
Kyle Dixon & Michael Stein
Seven.
Eight.
Nine.
Ten.
Your heart beats on its own.
You can feel your fingers again.
You watch as someone -
a white, brown-and-blue-spotted bat with a large tail, holding a revolver -
walks in front of your aisle
and Slams their boot down on the creature with a horrible squelch.
You groan, sliding your legs along the tile as you try to gain enough traction to get up.
They turn to you.
"...hell--"
The bat places their firearm in a holster at their side.
"You good?
I gotcha. Here."
Their free paw grasps your arm, and hefts you up to your feet with surprising strength.
They drape your arm over their neck, using their own to shoulder you.
"C'mon, we're goin', okay?
I gotcha, but do y'r best to walk if you can, yea?
We'll move faster that way."
Most of you still feels numb, and disoriented.
And you're very tired.
Your eyes close.
You hear the gas station door open,
then close behind you.
The bat's paw nudges your shoulder.
"Hey hey, stay with me.
Keep awake.
You pass out n' I gotta carry ya, and I won't have a free hand if somethin' like that comes around again.
So, whatever y' gotta do to stay awake.
...What'd that thing do t'ya?
Anything y' can tell me?
Y'r name works, too.
Aubrey. By th' way."
