The black mist in the chasm seemed to be moving, as though something was moving within it.
The thing, the massive creature at the bottom of the chasm, suddenly burst out from the dark mist. It looked like an enormous worm, and it had no eyes, but Michael was sure it knew he was there.
Michael felt his stomach lurch. The monster seemed to have sensed him, too. It's green, fleshy exterior moved in a slow wave as it moved forward, towards Michael, who had just started to stand up. It looked to be the size of a car, but its length was impossible to gauge as it slithered out of the split in the road that housed it. Its skin glistened wetly, and it had massive teeth held within its mouth, and then within those, another row, and then another, all in a circular pattern, descending in size as the mouth continued on further. Michael was reminded of a lamprey. The monster seemed to have no eyes, but that didn't stop it from sensing Michael as he tried to scramble backwards.
Michael turned and tried to make his escape, but then he tripped, landing hard on his left arm. His whole body screamed out in agony from having hit the asphalt so hard, but the pain didn’t even enter his mind; all he could think about was getting away from the monstrosity that had emerged before him. It moved in a wave, like a sea creature on land, and as it moved closer, Michael could feel his skin prickle. It was as though he was experiencing some sort of primal, evolutionary fear, and he knew that he needed to run as far and fast away as he could. He didn’t even bother trying to grab the shopping trolley or anything in it.
Thinking on his feet, he decided to run in the opposite direction of his home; the last thing he'd want to do was endanger his Mum and Dad as well as himself; so he made off back down the road, away from the creature, towards the store where he had collected his supplies.
As Michael ran, he could feel his legs burning as the muscles in his thighs screamed out for oxygen and relief, but he kept on running. His heart was beating wildly, and it felt like it might burst out of his chest. But still, he didn’t look back.
He took a hard right down a small alleyway that led to the park where he used to play as a kid; he figured he'd be safe there, at least until the thing gave up its pursuit.
As he ran down the alley, the sun was obscured by a tall brick wall on his right. It was dark, and he stopped and waited for a moment, realising that he could no longer hear the creature's strange slithering behind him.
As Michael got to the park, he noticed a large group of people had gathered there. Some of them were families with children; others were teenagers with wide-eyes. They were gathered around what looked to be another sinkhole, and among the concerned faces, he recognised
Michael's heart raced as he saw that the hole was filled with a black mist.
He ran over, panting.
"Get away from there!" he shouted, "Quick!"
The rabble of people turned to him, not with enough urgency, Michael thought, but in the end, it wouldn't have mattered. From the depths of the pit emerged something more terrifying even than the lamprey-like beast Michael had run from earlier; a dog-sized creature that resembled an ant with an exo-skeleton made up of hard, sharp-looking scales, and an almost humanoid torso with two human-like arms, which ended in claws instead of hands. It had the head and mandibles of an insect, and it had multiple, disgusting eyes like a spider. Immediately, Michael felt waves of fear and revulsion, as if his body were telling him to stay away.
One of the teenagers stepped towards the creature and, almost instinctually, reached a hand towards the monster.
"Don't!" Michael screamed, but it was too late.
As soon as he'd said the words, the monster leapt at the teenager, sinking its claws deep into his shoulder and torso, sending a fountain of blood spurting from the wounds.
Screams filled the air as the teenager was lifted into the air and flung around by the ant creature's mandibles, and Michael watched in horror as his blood was sucked out through those same mandibles.
Then, as though in an instant, the monster dropped the boy's lifeless body and leapt at the rest of the crowd. It was a blur, a flurry of movements and blood.
Then, as if to make things worse, from the fissure in the ground emerged two more of the creatures, and they too began to attack the crowd. The air filled with the sounds of screaming, death, and the stench of blood and fear. The creatures moved so fast it was hard to keep track of them.
Michael felt like he'd gone completely insane, and that the world around him was some sort of nightmare. He also realised in that moment that he wasn't a hero; one look at the second and third creatures had him on the move, heading away from the chaos.
He was running now, as fast and hard as he could, back toward his house, back toward his Mum and Dad. As he ran, he realised that it was getting dark outside as sundown rapidly approached. Something told Michael that he definitely didn't want to be outside after dark.
He ran until his lungs were burning, until his legs felt like jelly. He was exhausted, and yet, he didn't dare slow down.
Michael finally reached the sinkhole that was close to his home, and carefully so as not to draw the attention of the lamprey-monster or any other foul creatures that might have emerged, he slipped around the chasm and tried to get closer to the safety of his house.
A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
Michael's lungs were burning as he got back to his home. He took a moment to sit on the doorstep, trying to regain his breath and wait for the thumping of his chest to subside.
Then, reaching into his pocket for his keys, he began to stand. As he did so, he realised that there was an unusual silence falling on him; it wasn't just quiet. It was silent. Like when there's heavy snowfall and the world seems to be set on mute.
Taking a step away from the front door, his eyes were drawn upwards to the sky; the sun was just above the horizon, but it was very hard to make out the silhouette of it through the thick, unnatural fog that hung over the sky.
That's when the screaming started. Not just from one place. It sounded like it was coming from everywhere. From the ground, from the sky. From the houses surrounding him, even.
He tried to make himself invisible, shrinking himself against the front door. He was too scared to open the door to his home. The screams grew louder and louder. He clamped his hands over his ears, trying to block out the noise, but he couldn’t; he could still feel it. The screaming seemed to have penetrated his bones.
He dropped to his knees as the screaming became unbearable.
But just as quickly as it had started, the screaming suddenly stopped. And everything was silent again. But it wasn't just a quiet silence, it was a silence that felt like death. Michael was still frozen against the door, his hands still pressed tightly over his ears.
Then he heard a single footstep. And another. From the crack in the road, coming towards him. For a moment, he didn't dare to look, the torture of the omnipresent screaming having zapped his willpower.
He slowly lowered his hands, and turned his head to see what was coming.
What was coming looked like death itself. Well, if death were a woman. Michael's eyes were drawn to her; her long, dark, flowing hair. The black, ripped dress she wore. Her unnaturally pale skin. The black lipstick on her lips and the way they were slightly upturned into a smirk. Her deep red pupils. She seemed to exude power and authority, like an Empress or a goddess. Her aura of power was palpable; he felt as if she could kill him with a mere glance, or enslave him with a single touch. He hated it, but at the same time, couldn't look away.
She stared right at him. Through him, maybe. Her penetrating gaze seemed to see everything. He could feel the cold, dead hand of terror gripping his heart. It was like his whole body was on fire with fear.
And as she walked, he saw that behind her were clouds of black mist, with flashes of lightning, like storm-clouds. As she moved towards him, it seemed the black mist and clouds were following her.
"Where are you running to, mortal?" The woman asked in a soft, husky tone that seemed to caress Michael's soul and body. He shook his head as if trying to exorcise her, but it was no good.
"I know you would like to go back inside your home and hide and wait for this to be over," she continued. "But it isn't ever going to be 'over,' Michael."
Michael tried to move but found himself unable. Her gaze, her voice, everything about her, seemed to paralyse him, rendering him immobile.
He could barely breathe.
"You need to accept it. The old world has gone, and it will never come back," the woman continued.
"The world is being remade as we speak, but I can help you survive this," she said.
"Help?" Michael croaked. The word barely made it out of his lips.
The woman's smirk broadened, revealing razor sharp fangs. She nodded. "Yes. Help."
"Why?" he managed. The words were like sand in his mouth. "What's happening?"
"You know what is happening. You're seeing the signs, the monsters. Your planet has been claimed by a race of interdimensional conquerors, and the world you know has died. I can save you, however."
"But you don't need me. What do I have to offer?"
Michael realised that, as 'she' spoke, she made strange clicking sounds. As attractive as 'she' seemed, he knew the human visage was some kind of illusion; a mask of some kind.
The woman's face seemed to be looking at Michael as if he was a mouse and she a hungry lion.
"I'm not asking what you have to offer. You can do nothing, but you have potential."
Michael shook his head, confused. "But you could just kill me."
"Yes," she said. "And you'd be helpless to stop it, too."
Michael gulped.
The woman's grin became broader. She took another step toward him.
"But I have a better idea," she continued. "I think you could be useful."
Michael's head felt light and fuzzy as she moved closer. He wanted to escape, but his feet remained rooted in place. He could barely think.
"Your race are destined for slavery," the woman said. "Slavery... death... and worse. And you have potential. You could serve a higher cause than your own."
"Slavery?" Michael repeated, his voice barely above a whisper. He didn't understand.
"Your planet is being colonised by forces beyond your understanding," she explained, her tone almost bored as if explaining simple concepts to a toddler. "They have taken many other planets and civilisations in the past. They will enslave or kill those that are of no use."
"But..." The words caught in Michael's throat. He had no idea what to say.
"Yes," she repeated, and Michael thought she looked annoyed. "But I have a better idea. You will come with me and serve my purpose, and you may just save your people."
"Save my people? How?" Michael asked, unable to believe what was happening. Immediately though, something inside him made him regret even asking; he knew that this thing - it looked like a woman, even a very attractive one - was deceiving him. His body seemed to be reacting in strange ways to her, and his brain wasn't working as fast as it should. It was as though he was in some sort of drug-induced state, but he knew it was the strange powers this woman-creature was emitting. He could almost smell them; they smelled of sulphur and blood and death, beyond the carefully sweet and enticing aroma that tried to draw him closer.
The woman's face contorted, as though she'd been caught out in a lie. She looked angry, her mouth opening and closing. Then, suddenly, her features relaxed. Her smile returned. She moved closer to him, her hips swaying.
Michael could smell her. She smelled of something that reminded him of a sweet flower, but there was a scent of something beneath that. "No..." he said.
"No, no, no..." he repeated as she drew closer to him, his voice becoming weaker with each utterance.
As she drew nearer, Michael could feel her power, her aura, pressing against his skin, his very flesh. It made his insides crawl.
"No... No... Stop!" Michael tried to say as her face was mere inches from his, her hand moving to caress his face.
She smiled again, and her voice was soft, almost tender. Her voice was melodic as she said to him oh-so-softly, "It's beautiful, Michael, it really is..."
Then she kissed him on the lips, and the last thing Michael remembered before he blacked out was her whispering a simple phrase while her eyes stared into his. Her beautiful, crimson, demonic eyes curled as she grinned and said, "... that you think you have a choice."
***