Fungal Halo

The creature stalks the halls, hunting while you cower in hiding. But you can only hide for so long, can you, before...what is it? Boredom? Curiosity? Something compels you to peek out for a brief glimpse of it?

Slitted eyes lock with mine. One clawed hand at my throat. Another grips my hair. Two more raking my back, breaking the skin. A smile widens, full of needle-sharp teeth, relishing my helplessness in the moments before it opens to devour me.

"Remember me?" The creature hisses.

The spine opens, splitting down its length, sweet slime oozing from the opening. The pointed end of a chitinous limb pokes through and works its way slowly out. More emerge along the length of the gash as the first extends, revealing one joint, then another, then another.

You were told the cult would help you "open your third eye" and "reveal the ultimate truth of the universe" to you, but—you poor dear—that's not at all what they did to you, whatever visions you now find yourself burdened with.

It was one of the most awful kinds of disasters, the doll thinks to itself. The kind of shipwreck that leaves no survivors and very little intact property like itself.

Tragic! How long before the families of the dead realize that their loved ones won't be coming home?

My fingers intertwine with my sister's as we approach our destination. We are dressed for the occasion, bright smiles painted on perfectly sculpted faces, wearing dresses of sumptuous crimson cloth with sable lace and gold accents, complementing the beauty of our bodies.

The two of us carry our witch to the house of its rival. Hidden from sight, gliding across our bodies, it roils with expectant energy and restless teeth in the shadows that play across our limbs and trail behind us.