Short Stories : Unexpected Visit

Short Stories : Unexpected Visit

"Fuck you, Kyle!"

"Now listen to me, Linda -"

»Whose cell phone are you using to call me? Is that the number of this little bitch? '

"If you had seen mine, you wouldn't have answered -"

"Damn right!" She snapped into the phone. With her free hand she had clenched a fist so tight that her manicured black nails were piercing the skin. Linda took a deep breath and made sure not to lose her temper. "Stay away from me," she said calmly. »Stay away. You can put the apartment key in my mailbox when you are around. You don't have to make yourself known. I guess I have to think a lot now. And I need time for that. «

"Please ... Linda, honey -"

"Save your crappy 'sweetheart' and leave me alone!" Saliva flew out of her mouth and she ended the call and already twitched her fingers to hurl the cell phone against the wall ... but at the last moment she thought of one Better. She took a deep breath, put the cell phone aside, and tried to maintain her compliance. Remain rational. Her hands were trembling, her knees were soft, and her vision was blurred. It took a moment for her to realize that she was crying.

"Fuck," she sobbed. "Fuck, fuck, fuck ..."

Linda dropped onto her couch and pulled her legs up. She hadn't expected that reaction. With everything she had faced in the past sixty minutes, what she had faced for the first time in the twenty-two years of her life, she had least expected to burst into tears - the rage bubbled too hot in her stomach, swirled too quickly the thoughts through her head. But now, as the scenario cleared in her mind for the first time, while for the first time she fully realized what had happened and the genuineness of the situation was slowly seeping into her head, she couldn't help but cry, and she hated herself for doing it. This bastard didn't deserve that. Maybe he was crying now with the little bitch that was with him, and maybe this bitch would hold him and get him again on the occasion. The very idea made Linda make a whimpering, inarticulate sound, and she curled up closer on the couch.

"Bastard," she mumbled in a tearful voice. "Stupid, shitty, dirty bastard."

She had been able to go home from work earlier that night - she was working in a wellness center in central Indianapolis, less than five miles from where she was living, and despite a Friday evening, there wasn't much going on, so Nancy, her colleague, had taken over her shift - , and she had wanted to surprise Kyle with a spontaneous visit to his apartment. The moaning of this bitch had already been vaguely heard in the stairwell, but she had convinced herself that it might come from the apartment next door. (Didn't she even grin when she heard it for the first time? Didn't she cheer for the anonymous participants of this act for fun?) Then she unlocked Kyle's apartment, because she had a key to his home, and that moan had burned like hot wax in her ears and paralyzed her. In retrospect, everything that happened afterwards seemed like a dream. The screaming. The slamming doors. The echo of her voices in the stairwell and Kyle, who half-naked followed her out onto the sidewalk and talked about her head and collar.

"Please, Linda, let me explain -"

"What is there to explain?" She had unlocked her car and turned to him with a calm that now seemed very strange and surprising. "What, Kyle, what?"

And he had stood and stared at her, and his silence had expressed everything there was to express. She had swung into her car and slammed the door and drove away without turning to look at him again.

My god, I even made it home. Sniffling, she wiped under her eye and looked around her small one-room apartment. She had lived here for two years; it wasn't a big apartment, but she was still proud of it. Warm beige tones on the walls, a slate gray sofa bed, a beautiful, light laminate floor and a large balcony. Modern and simple. At the time, her parents had spoken out against moving away from home; According to her father, she makes acceptable money with her job, but not much money, and besides, she doesn't even have her degree in her pocket, how could she finance all of this? But she hadn't wanted to hear, she had remained stubborn and persistent, and Kyle, with whom she had been dating for over a year, had reaffirmed her decision and supported her. Only thanks to his encouragement did she stand on her own two feet today. And although it was sometimes difficult, it was also liberating, because this burden, so she knew how to comfort herself, had been chosen by herself, imposed on herself. Back then, Kyle and a few friends had helped her bring up the furniture and set up the closet and clip on the stove, and he'd stayed with her because it was strange and a little uncomfortable for her, the first night alone in her own new apartment to spend. They had put the mattress on the floor because the new bed frame had not yet been delivered, and they had slept three times that night and kept making love to each other like a young couple in love. And why not? It had been a hot night, she remembered, and they had slept with the balcony door open, with no blankets and no clothes, and while Kyle was dozing next to her, she had a sleepy, exhausted, and slightly stupid smile about the stranger The ceiling of her new apartment was staring, feeling rebellious and well, satisfied, while the warm evening air had blown in and dried the sweet sweat of her love act on her skin. Her thoughts had only centered on the man next to her - that she owed him to finally be her own mistress, without compromises and restrictions - and she still knew that in those melancholy, somehow magical hours, she had persuaded herself that this man might even become the man of her life.

How stupid and naive you were, little Linda. Stupid and naive.

To prevent another howling attack, she got up and went to the bathroom, where she took a long, hot shower. She no longer tried to think of Kyle and the moaning little bitch in his bed or the roar in the stairwell, trying to ignore what had happened in the past hour and what impact that one hour could have on her entire future life. Who was this girl Where had Kyle met her? Why had he preferred another and what was missing, Linda, that it had happened? Didn't he find her attractive anymore, even though she actually looked pretty? She didn't want to deal with these questions anymore tonight. Tonight she wanted to shut herself off from the rest of the world and suppress what had happened, at least for a few hours. When she finished showering, she put on boxers and a t-shirt and returned to the living room, where she turned on the TV for some background acoustics. Then she opened the balcony door and stepped outside.

It was a hot summer this year and the air was mild - not as hot and sticky as when she moved in, but pleasant - and Linda enjoyed the warm stones under her feet as the wind played around her damp long hair and like caressing fingers crawling under her clothes. She leaned against the railing and closed her eyes for a moment. Take a deep breath and listen to the distant sounds of the traffic. Down in the back yard, where a couple of overflowing garbage cans frolicked in front of an ivy-covered shelter, something whispered over the corrugated iron roof.

"... are still missing," a newsreader's voice whispered from the living room. »As reported by groups of friends, Lilly Cambridge and Taylor White were last seen at a nightly picnic in Northwestway Park, which was intended to give visitors the opportunity to watch the current comet showers, of which more than seven have been in the sky in the past two weeks from Indianapolis ... "

When Linda opened her eyes again, she had her head back and was staring at the stars. The sky was clear and not a cloud clouded her eyes. She had seen a few of those comets herself the previous night; tiny, barely noticeable bright tails that appeared in one moment and disappeared in the next, as if they were merely optical illusions. The scientists on television spoke of a unique event, an anomaly, the origin of which they could not fully explain. And suddenly Linda had to smile. There was something oddly comforting about the idea that she was on such a trifle as a stranger's friend, because she was actually quite small and insignificant compared to the entire universe. Her luck didn't matter to the universe. For the universe, it was, the entire earth and possibly the entire galaxy, as insignificant as a single grain of sand in the Sahara. Their existence made no difference. Maybe love and contentment were just concepts that worked on Earth. Perhaps cold and hopelessness were the most natural constants there were.

"What nonsense you're spinning here, Linda," she whispered, and actually a shy giggle slipped from her lips.

»... is part of a series of previous missing persons cases of young couples and women living in part who have been living alone for some time, and which have recently been piling up, especially in the Indian metropolitan areas ...«

Linda went into the living room to turn off the television; she certainly didn't want to hear such crap this evening. With a cigarette and a lighter, she returned to the balcony, where she lit the butt and inhaled deeply into the lungs. She coughed but continued to smoke. She only approved cigarettes in exceptional situations, and this evening was certainly one of them. Maybe she would take another one. Maybe the entire pack. She shouldn't care tonight, that and everything else. She wanted to think of herself and fall into her selfishness, oh yes. Perhaps she would even do it herself before bed. And consciously think of a man other than Kyle. The thought elicited a second, coughed-up laugh.

She blew out smoke, stared at the night sky. A little distance would do her good. If she had the means, she would drive away, but apart from her parents' home, there was no other place to stay afloat for more than two or three days. And her parents! If she were to go to them now and explain why she was there, the two of them would rather measure her and put on a we-told-you-look instead of hugging and comforting her. She had friends and acquaintances, but they all lived in the city and some of them knew Kyle, so it would be pointless to ask them. She didn't want to admit that she suddenly felt very lonely.

While your friend might be beating his soul out ...

The new surge of tears came suddenly and suddenly, without her being able to prevent it. Her eyes watered again, and when she wiped her eyes again with her fingers and sniffed again, it almost seemed as if the stars had come closer. She stubbed out the cigarette on the railing, flicked the stub into the back yard, and rubbed the last tears from her eyes before taking a deep breath.

For a split second, she was more than confused.

For a split second, it seemed like a star was actually coming towards them.

Before Linda knew what was happening, something crashed into the back yard. One of the garbage cans was whirled up and flew through the air; Leftover waste, used coffee filters and moldy fruit bowls slapped the cobbled floor, the bin hit the wall of the shelter and rolled back and forth. The corrugated iron roof vibrated, and Linda jumped back in shock when an electric shock seemed to twitch through the railing. She heard a strange copper taste on the tongue, at the same time the hair rose on her arms and on the back of her neck. Suddenly the air was as oppressive as before a thunderstorm, sweat gathered in the back of her knees and on her forehead. She waited a few more seconds, but when nothing happened and everything was quiet again, she slowly crept back up to the railing and carefully peered down into the yard.

The flung garbage can smoked.

With wide eyes, Linda registered the frayed holes in the metal, as if someone had shot the barrel with a shotgun cartridge. It stank of garbage and burnt rubber. And the air was still so strangely electrified ...

A door banged below, followed by footsteps. "Those damn kids!" Roared a male, scratchy old voice. »Good-for-nothing! Throw yourself around with these cheap goods from China like with grenades! Where are you? Come here! Show yourself or I'll call the cops! That stuff can rip your hand off if you're not careful! ”

Another door crack, then silence. Linda stood on tiptoe and let her gaze wander through the courtyard and then over the wall on the long side. She had neither seen nor heard a gang of young people. No one who had sneaked through the neighboring yard or was hiding behind the shelter. She frowned and leaned back again.

At the same moment, a sound sounded that sounded like a hiss. And suddenly something jumped up on the railing.

Linda gasped and jumped back. Something landed on the balcony, just where she had just stood. At first glance it looked like a crushed black fruit. Like a flattened spider. Linda was about to console herself with the thought that it was probably from the garbage can and the angry tenant had thrown it up to her because he blamed her for the loud bang when it suddenly moved and was approaching her. Her heart stopped. Linda jumped back that she was almost stumbling, bumped her back against the window, and hurriedly felt her way to the open door. The thing splashed ahead like a rolling mud ball. Without taking her eyes off it, Linda stepped over the threshold into her living room and was about to close the door when the thing shot up again with a hiss and spat.

It wasn't fast enough. Something wet and slippery hit her on the right upper arm just before she slammed the door shut and smacked the thing against the window like a splash of paint. She stumbled into her apartment, past the couch to the middle of the room, where she stopped panting and knew less about what had just happened than the previous hour. The blob stuck to the window, vaguely reminiscent of a starfish - a melted, melted starfish - and seemed to be watching.

"What ... for ..." She couldn't find words or thoughts to understand what was happening here. Was that a prank? Did someone play with her? She eyed the black stuff on her arm and grimaced in disgust; it felt cold and damp, like a slug, and its consistency resembled tough, viscous dough. There was a peculiar smell; it smelled a bit of coal, but beyond that Linda didn't know what to smell. All she knew was that she needed to wash it off urgently. She was already turning to the bathroom door when she suddenly noticed that, depending on the light from her ceiling lamp, the stuff shimmered in a variety of colors: crimson, emerald green, turquoise and ice blue - as if it were coated with a fine, sugary glaze.

Wow. How nice.

She stood there for a moment, watching the stuff as if hypnotized. Then she timidly raised her hand and touched it with the tip of her index finger; she knew it wasn't a wise decision, but her curiosity was greater than her reason. Her fingertip touched the dazzling surface, crushed it like a chitin shell, and found herself in the pulpy mess below. The stuff was warm. And it felt surprisingly good. Like a cream that calmed the skin. Linda added a second finger, and the idea of ​​smearing the stuff on her entire upper arm overwhelmed her so suddenly and violently that she was short of breath.

Are you stupid? What if it's poisonous?

Startled, she pulled her fingers back. Correct. Just get away with it. She opened the bathroom door and was halfway across the threshold when she paused again and looked over her shoulder.

The blob was still there. And somehow it seemed bigger than it was.

Firmer.

Linda didn't know why she was standing there and hesitated. The blob had no eyes or other recognizable organs - at least Linda couldn't see anything like that in the tough, viscous mass of which it was made - but something told her that this thing ... that it saw what she was doing. That it was watching her. And knew what she was up to. She had no idea whether the idea appalled her or the fact that she actually had that thought. What the hell was she supposed to do now?

Thats is quite easy. Wash the stuff away, and then call the police. And best of all, the exterminator. Or the ordnance disposal service. Or all together.

Carefully, she looked away and went into the bathroom. She closed the door behind her, but when she walked to the sink, she found her legs were shaking. She saw her face in the mirror and the stuff on her arm - so dazzling, so colorful. She turned the water on and held her hands around the edge of the sink.

Come on. Away with it.

But she didn't move. She stared into her dark green eyes and felt her heart pounding, that her field of view seemed to vibrate. Then, without thinking about it any longer, she gave in to her impulse. The wrong impulse.

She splashed into the stuff and frantically smeared it all over her arm. Over her elbow to her wrist, then up again under the sleeve of her T-shirt. A pleasant, warm tingling crept over her skin, penetrated her shoulder to her chest area and even seemed to fill the inside of her lungs. Her breath went shallow and fogged up the mirror. Her pulse was racing. She spread the sticky, sticky rest of the mass with the palm of her hand over the hem of her shirt and down to her thigh. With her other hand, she supported herself on the tiled wall next to the mirror. At the same time she bit her lower lip and pressed her knees together. It was only when she caught herself that she was already running her chin over her arm and almost chasing after her lips, did she blink and startle as if from a dream.

What the hell was she doing here?

Linda cleared her throat and looked at her reflection. She looked as if she had rubbed the entire right side of her body with earth. Where the layer was thin enough, it seemed as if her skin was shimmering in a wild spectrum of colors. Arm and thigh felt stuck together, but not in an uncomfortable way. She wanted to rub herself in even more. She wanted to taste the stuff on her lips and -

"Damn it, girl, come to your senses." She peppered two short, quick slaps on the cheeks and shook her head. But the thought was there, nested in her mind, and challenged her reason, her restraint. She knew it was only healthy not to continue this game.

Then finally put the stuff away, damn it.

But she didn't. Instead, she turned to the door, opened it a crack, and peered out.

The blob had grown - and no longer reminded of a blob. Several limbs had formed from the tough, lumpy mass, which still looked a little spongy, a little unstable, but the hints of - Linda had to narrow her eyes to actually realize it - had feelers. Tentacles. They shimmered flesh-colored and were covered with a green, mother-of-pearl-like sheen. Each of them was at least eight inches long, and each of them barely wiped the glass like a sea anemone exposed to the currents of the ocean.

"What are you?" She murmured. The way the limbs moved brought up a strange discomfort in her, a feeling of disgust and loathing. But anyway - or maybe because of it - she couldn't look away.

Linda left the bathroom and hesitantly took a few steps towards the balcony door. All limbs seemed to spring from a fleshy middle part, as she knew it from octopods, but there was something different about this middle body: its surface seemed dotted with scales, glistened in wild, fluorescent rainbow colors, and was at the same time milky and transparent; below, Linda thought she could see how that muddy black mass was pumped into the limbs through vein-like vessels. But on the way there, that mass did not seem to become less, but more - as if it were produced by mere friction. Linda stepped closer, hardly noticing that she was now only two meters from the window. She leaned forward and examined the action more closely, with a mixture of disgust and fascination.

At the tentacle ends, the slippery mass was pressed out of pore-like vessels. But instead of succumbing to gravity and seeping down, the mass stuck to the glass and instead continued on its way in the form of dozens of small branches. It looked as if the tentacles were trees with endless charred, gnarled roots.

It grew.

Linda stroked the glued layer on her arm. If this was the same stuff as that sloshing through that strange thing there ...

Oh god, are they spurs? Or no …

She choked. Didn't want to use the word. Did not want to believe that it was something like sperm, but at the same time this idea overshadowed her mind with such a profound, so sensual and at the same time hideous excitement that something contracted in her abdomen and her mouth became dry. Thoughts that were inexpressible entered her head and paralyzed him.

No. For heaven's sake, no. Pull yourself together.

She had stepped in front of the window without realizing it. She knelt on the floor and held her spread hand against the glass, right at the fleshy, central part of the body. Life pulsed under that dazzling, scaly skin. Foreign, fascinating life.

Why not? Asked a voice in her head.

The sight of the colors made her crazy. Hypnotized her. She had never seen such a colorful game; if she had to watch it for the rest of her life, she would look forward to this idea with joy, almost longing. She wanted to touch the thing. She wanted to feel and explore it, and more than anything she wanted to lick and taste it with her tongue over the scaly, iridescent skin. She didn't know where that thought came from, whether it was still her own thought, but it didn't matter.

Maybe it just wants to comfort you. Otherwise why should it have appeared? Tonight of all places? Of all times at this hour?

Mild evening air and a smell of copper hit her as she opened the door and backed away in awe. The tentacle swung into the apartment, and the first root-like runners immediately settled on the laminate floor. Linda heard a crunching, squeezing sound as the mass flowed through the tentacles even more vehemently and was squeezed out at its ends like pus from a wound. In a matter of seconds, the black roots had developed into an extended extension of the tentacle. But instead of sticking to the ground, he crawled over it and in Linda's direction.

She gasped, bumped against her couch in a backward step. She stood there holding her breath, watching the tentacle feel its way forward. It had grown to two meters, had the diameter of an exhaust pipe, and lengthened while it was moving. In the direct light of the ceiling lamp, it shimmered even stronger and brighter than outside under the starry sky.

"I ..." Linda started without knowing what she was going to say when the stuff on her arm and thigh suddenly began to tingle again, as intensely as if her limbs had fallen asleep. She held her arm and slumped, moaning softly. It was as if the tingling penetrated deep into her flesh, even to her bones. She had to grit her teeth to endure it. Her breathing became difficult.

It's part of it. It was a certainty, not a guess. And it calls.

When she looked up again, the tentacle had risen and smacked the stuff directly onto her legs. Linda gasped, swayed, and felt a cool tingle from her thighs to her abdomen. In order not to buckle, she clawed her fingers into the back of the couch. A second batch gurgled through the tentacle and sprayed it directly onto the T-shirt. Linda laughed, spread it with her free hand over the cotton fabric and clumsily underneath. Her abdominal muscles twitched as they touched the strange texture. A second volley came and a third, and Linda gave up holding on; she sank to her knees beside the couch and smeared it. It smeared all over her skin.

With a smacking sound, the creature detached itself from the door and continued into the room. Everywhere tentacles sprang up, some thin and fibrous, others large and bulky, with the dimensions of a conduit. The lumpy middle section had grown and now seemed to consist of two fibrous segments; they were held together by hundreds of slimy threads, like chewing gum pulled apart, and everything glowed in a wild spectrum from ruby ​​red to azure blue, from snow white to ultraviolet. Bubbling sounds sprang from the gap between the two bodies, as more and more black matter spilled out of them and flowed into the tentacles.

Linda had rubbed the black mass from head to toe. In a hint of self-forgetfulness, she put her T-shirt over her head and spread the mass over her breasts and back. Her entire skin seemed to tingle with hot bliss and at the same time be terribly cool. She rolled over the floor unguardedly to kick off her boxer shorts, and just when she had done it, another grind made her look up - before the next load slapped her face.

She tasted the stuff on her tongue and was startled by how viscous and chewy it was. At the same time, she licked the tip of her tongue over her lips and spread it all over her face and hair with her taped hands. At first she didn't notice that one of the tentacles was winding around her ankle; only when the grip tightened and she felt a kind of pulsation under its fibrous, slippery surface did she stop and look down at herself.

Dozens of tentacles poked blindly in their direction, like a living brush of thorns. The thing's bodies had swelled to the size of armchairs, and the pumping inside indicated that they were still growing.

Linda crept back in horror. But she slipped more than she crawled, and the tentacle easily pulled her back in his direction. At the same time, he continued to wriggle up her tibia.

"N-not," she stuttered. "O God …"

A second tentacle closed around her other leg. With a whimper, Linda turned on her stomach and crawled out from behind the couch into the middle of the room. But now the tentacles had become stronger and they were pulling them back. She groaned and wanted to hold on to the couch, but her hands were too slippery and the cushion completely unstable. With wide eyes, she looked over her shoulder and held her breath as she saw more and more tentacles build up in front of her and long for her body.

"No ... no, no, please ..."

The first tentacle wrapped around her thigh and wet the inside with a damp film of black, sticky mass, which made Linda wince; the stuff seemed to completely sensitize the nerves in her abdomen and thighs. More tentacles crawled up her legs, and the first were already working on her arms and breasts. They tickled them, caressed them, secreted more and more black matter from them. And suddenly Linda's tension eased a little. One of the tentacles wrapped around her shoulder and crawled over her breasts. When her nipples came into contact with the strange, cool meat, she moaned unexpectedly and squirmed.

What are you doing? But it was only a low voice that spoke to her from the back of her head.

Gradually, Linda was robbed of her complete freedom of movement. It was difficult to lift her left arm, the right one was held by two tentacles and her legs by at least three or four. Two had looped around her chest and a third was just finding its way to her neck. Following an impulse, Linda tilted her head back to give him room. She let herself go. It surrendered to the action. With a fluttering look she noticed that the fleshy body had spread to the ceiling, that the entire balcony side of the room was occupied by tentacles. It was a sight that almost made her crazy, in awe and fear at the same time.

"Do it." Her voice was so thick that Linda barely recognized her.

A deep, cooing noise came from the foreign objects. Linda thought she saw how not only were there more threads of mucus between them, but also hair and what looked like teeth. Tusks. Again she felt like she was being watched. This time, however, not out of distrust, but out of desire.

Tentacles crawled up the inside of her thighs. Linda wriggled again and groaned. A red mist spread in her head, wiping out every thought, reason, and reluctance. Desperate, she pushed the pelvis toward her pelvis.

"Do it!"

When the first tentacle dug into her, brutally and without regard, she cried out in pain. A fire spread between her legs, she jumped uncontrollably and tears came from her eyes. At the same time she returned the thrust, and after a short time she lost herself in a choppy, desperate rhythm. The tentacle pierced her soaking wet sex, in and out, sending hot, stinging, painful shivers through her abdomen and down to her spine. Her spinal cord seemed to be tingling, and waves of pulsating energy raced up her brain, causing thousands of crackling explosions between her synapses, a thunderstorm in her head. Unrecognizable, primitive sounds emerged from her throat like an animal. The tentacle around her neck squeezed her windpipe and made it difficult for her to breathe, which made her even more excited, and she kicked her feet aimlessly across the floor as if energized. The fleshy bulge of the growing tentacle filled her completely, strained her innermost to the absolute limit, and another was added. She drooled as he penetrated her and maltreated her clit. She rolled her eyes and suddenly seemed to see her own, very personal sea of ​​lights on the ceiling. A tentacle crawled over her face and lay on her mouth, and she licked it, kissed it, grinned into it, grinning.

"Don't stop," she gasped. "Keep going, keep going ... yes ..."

The tentacles tugged on her limbs as if she were lying on a stretching bench, and the next moment her entire body had lost contact with the living room floor; she seemed to be floating, and the stubbornness made it even more difficult to return the thrusts. At the same time, several tentacles crawled over her back and buttocks. Before she could react, they roughly penetrated her buttocks and intestines, but her sudden cry of pain was stifled when the tentacle on her mouth slipped between her lips and drilled deep into her throat. The tentacles began to ransack her body ... and pump it black. Linda felt the stuff seep into her stomach, her throat and intestines, and how her gut suddenly seemed to tingle and burn, as did her entire skin. She twitched convulsively and uttered choking sounds, at the same time trying to spread her legs even more. Pain and desire tormented and inspired them, taking them up to a state of the most glorious, extra-worldly, sinful fulfillment ... which was perfected by the idea of ​​taking revenge in the most daring and darkest way.

Eat that Kyle. Eat that.

It was Linda's last clear thought before a hot, brutal pain cut through her mind. Those fleshy, central chunks had nourished themselves and had begun to push their bodies between them, into those gaps streaked with hair and teeth and phlegm. And wherever she had previously rubbed herself with that black mass, the stuff oozed out of her pores. Her skin and muscles dissolved as if she were being decomposed alive. Linda screamed at the tentacle in her throat that her vocal cords seemed to tear. Fear of death mixed with the pain and the hot waves in her abdomen and drove her into a sea of ​​unbearable feelings. Tendons shot out of those pulsating lumps like ropes, dug through their decomposing flesh and clung to their bones, wreathing them with black, fresh new flesh. Her body openings have meanwhile been completely tattered and torn. She was still moving, choking and desperate and unconscious, and while her abdomen was longing for redemption, her right hip clung to the fleshy body of her play, followed by her right shoulder and right breast. When the black mass seeped out of Linda's torn cheek and her right eye socket began to dissolve, those strange red tendons penetrated her pupil and into her head like needles. A second picture moved into her field of vision and increasingly displaced the ceiling, the reality. She saw dozens of screaming faces, in a state of absolute agony and lust; she saw walking, human silhouettes in empty, old, corpse-lined streets; she saw pyramids in piercing sunlight and hairy figures in dark, fire-lit caves; she saw prehistoric lizards and thousands, skeletons covered with black matter; she saw an alien world full of rocks and gigantic volcanoes, full of monoliths and dark mountains; she saw a big, empty, godless black nothing, an infinity too colossal for her mind to grasp, and she looked into a world beyond all stars, beyond all known laws of time and space, beyond everything what was known to the human species; she looked past Mars and Jupiter, past the stars of the Milky Way and the Andromeda nebula, past everything that light had ever penetrated, and she saw the universe, the all-encompassing and absolute universe, and she saw behind it and discovered something pulsating, one so formidable, such an unimaginable cosmic organism that the universe next to it acted like an atom on planet Earth, and even that organism was just a bacterium of something much larger, somewhat complete and absolutely chaotic.

Linda's brain was not yet dead to understand that this last picture was not a memory. Or vision. It was a glimpse of the vastness out there, the vastness now, made possible by the thing that she passed into, and she knew that she couldn't bear this picture, this truth. It lives, it echoed through the desert in its mind, it lives it lives it lives it lives it lives.

"Linda!" Somewhere, in the distance from her apartment, a door was pushed open. A strange and familiar voice, human and small and insignificant. "Linda, for God's sake -!"

And the thing to which Linda now counted rose up, flickering its scurrying tentacles across the room, and giving the intruder a look at that disfigured, fibrous, torn, bones and tentacles body that was once his girlfriend had been.

"Linda ..."

What this thing was capable of was a grin. A grin like a puppet before she spread her clumped arms like a puppet and spread her sinewy legs and directed her crumbling, crumbling face in his direction.

"Fuck me, Kyle."

Author : Marcel Hartlage