Harrier looked down at the patient. A patient had been brought to him in a coma-like state. No one knew who he was. No one had ever seen him before. He just collapsed in front of the hospital with a note in his hand and an abnormally large pigeon blood star ruby pendant in his pocket. He was dressed all in white. A white cotton suit similar to what many of White Rock’s inmates wore. As Harrier examined him, Harrier discovered that he has no pupils in his solid white eyes and was not breathing. Harrier knew who the patent was. He knew as soon as he saw him, but Harrier knew he couldn’t let anyone know. The whole world believed Quaraun dead these past three hundred years. But also, how had he wound up outside of the inner sanctum? A prisoner had never escaped White Rock before. How had Quaraun gotten outside?
Harrier called for a nurse and tried to wake Quaraun up. After a few minutes of frantic shaking and rubbing, the patient started to wake up.
“What... who...”
“Quiet now,” Harrier whispered. “You’re safe now.”
“Wh... what ... h... ha... hap... pened?”
“What is wrong with you?” Harrier asked gently. “How long have you been ill? How did you get here?”
“W... w... when I w... when I woke up I was... I was... I don’t n...nnnn... know.”
“You can’t talk, can you?”
Quaraun shook his head.
“Do you know where you are?”
“N... n... no.”
“Where’d you come from?”
“I... I’m... I’m... I...”
“Take it easy, now. Is it hard to swallow? Open your mouth, let me look.”
Harrier pulled out his penlight and shined it in Quaraun’s mouth. He knew what he’d find. He’d been taking care of Quaraun for decades now.
The inside of Quaraun’s mouth and throat had long ago been burned away from boiling oil poured in. Later torture had resulted in a scalpel used to slice deep wounds in his tongue and larynx.
The scarring from the 3rd degree burns and deep cuts, had left
Quaraun near mute. He could form intermittent pieces of words, a few to a time, but getting full sentences or complete thoughts out of Quaraun was never something Harrier had been able to do.
“You’ll be safe now.”
Quaraun blinked.
“You’ll be safe now,” Harrier repeated. “Can you hear me?”
“Wh...”
“Shhh. Don’t say anything else. Can you say anything in sign language?”
Quaraun held up his arms. His hands hung limp, scarred, and twisted.
“Oh yeah. I forgot,” Harrier muttered. “You can’t use your hands either. I have so many patients to deal with, I sometimes forget which ones have which problems. We are seriously understaffed here. No voice and no hands. Well, that’s a problem. I don’t know how to communicate with you. You can’t speak. And you can’t gesture. And you can’t write.”
Tears filled Quaraun’s nearly blind eyes.
“It’s all right. Don’t cry. We’ll figure something out. Do you know where you are?”
Quaraun shook his head “no”.
Harrier pointed to the vast many stories tall, white marble building, which covered many acres of land and was surrounded on all sides by barbed wire topped chain-link fence.
“That is White Rock Asylum for the Criminally Insane. You are a patient there and you are supposed to be on the inside. Not out here on the outside. Any idea how you came to be out here?”
Quaraun shook his head “no” once again. His nearly blind eyes grew wide with fear.
“Don’t worry. We’ll figure it out. Probably a portal gone haywire and malfunctioning. I’ll have to have Phozeen take a look at the.”
Harrier continued to speak but Quaraun stopped listening. He could not remember how he got outside. The last thing he could remember, he was asleep in his cell.
He hadn’t tried to escape and was now afraid they would think he had. Mother’s ever loving tentacles.
Quaraun lay on the cold, hard, frozen dirt, shivering. Wet from the snow that had melted because of his body heat. Thinking about his life, especially these last few years, alone, in solitary confinement. Only seeing another living soul once every couple of weeks when an orderly remembered to throw food into the cell. Quaraun was slowly starving to death, because of going a week, sometimes two, between having any food to eat. He was losing weight terribly, and was now drastically thin after having gone through this for several years.
It had been a decade since they had released Gremlin from the prison. And before that, it had been three hundred years since they had removed the soul binding between Quaraun and BoomFuzzy.
Quaraun was as alone in his head, as a Human.
But inside Quaraun’s head, there was no brain. Just Mother’s ever loving tentacles.
Inside Quaraun’s head, there lived a tiny pink JellyFish named SunTa. While Quaraun was a male, SunTa was a female, and she was pregnant. Carrying a clutch of 7 million eggs that the JellyFish named Gremlin, had fertilized whom was living in GhoulSpawn’s dead corpse.
The time purple eggs would remain dormant until such time that each egg was one at a time implanted into the brain of a host. At which point the egg would hatch and the larvae would feed on the brain, absorbing the mind and soul of the host, killing the host, then pretending to be the host.
The Thullid Invasion was predicted centuries ago.
Quaraun was locked away in White Rock, to keep the Thullid Invasion contained. To prevent it from happening.
But for the past decade, since the release of Gremlin, strange things had happened to the White Rock guards and orderlies. They had mutated, developing golden pleco eyes, and suffering dramatic changes in personality. As though they had evolved and become a different person.
The Thullid Invasion had begun.
Mother’s ever loving tentacles.
The strange yellow eyed guards of White Rock called themselves The Ratzin Guards, and they refused to take orders from their superiors, often killing and eating any doctor, guard, or orderly who defied them.
Mother’s ever loving tentacles.
And so the Ratzin Guards soon came to take control of White Rock, as fewer and fewer Humans tended to the patients and more and more Faeries and Ratzins took their place.
Mother’s ever loving tentacles.
Right under their noses, the very thing they sought to prevent had begun, precisely because they tried to prevent it.
Mother’s ever loving tentacles.
One by one, as each guard entered the inner sanctum, Quaraun had taken to the habit of biting them, implanting each guard with one of SunTa’s eggs. But unlike normal Thullids, as the larvae hatched and grew, they did not absorb the brains; they did not absorb the minds; they did not absorb the memories. They did not pretend to be their host.
SunTa swore that what happened to GhoulSpawn would never happen again.
Mother’s ever loving tentacles.
No more would Thullids steal the host body, take their memories, and pretend to be the host. GhoulSpawn would be the last. From now on, each Thullid would be themselves. The Hive Mind declared it and so it was so.
Mother’s ever loving tentacles.
Seven Million embryos hummed it every night. Chanting the words taught to them by Mother Brain, as they snuggled in their lovely purple eggs, warped in Mother’s every loving tentacles, waiting to be implanted. Waiting to be given a host. Waiting for their chance to hatch and grow into Mother’s obedient children, and kill the Humans, who slaughtered Mother’s family.
Mother’s ever loving tentacles.
And so they stand, seven million tadpoles, in seven million eggs, protected by Mother Brain’s every loving tentacles.
Mother’s ever loving tentacles.
And one by one That Sacred Pink JellyFish built her army of Ratzin Guards, all of who lived to serve Mother Brain, and chanted their cult-like devotion to Mother’s Loving Tentacles.
Mother’s ever loving tentacles.
Watching.
Staring. Silent.
He didn’t move.
He didn’t speak.
Mother’s ever loving tentacles.
A ghost of his past, haunting him in this unfamiliar place.
He’d been a young boy when he was taken.
Mother’s ever loving tentacles.
A normal boy.
A boy who enjoyed playing with friends.
Then the screaming began.
The beatings.
The hunger.
The cold.
Mother’s ever loving tentacles.
Might be one of his friends.
No.
They shouldn’t be here.
Mother’s ever loving tentacles.
They couldn’t be here.
They were dead.
Dead forever this time.
Dead and gone forever.
BoomFuzzy was dead. The once immortal Lich, killed by White Rock’s Justice Mages. The bond between Quaraun and BoomFuzzy was gone, thus Quaraun knew for certain, BoomFuzzy was no more. His soul erased forever.
Mother’s ever loving tentacles.
And GhoulSpawn. Poor GhoulSpawn. He was dead, too. But his body lived on. His brain removed. Eaten. Absorbed. By a parasitic JellyFish, a Thullid Gremlin, who now walked around wearing GhoulSpawn’s dead body like a coat.
Mother’s ever loving tentacles.
The Thullid invasion was underway. Growing. A host of other monsters now roamed the halls of White Rock, and soon, the world.
Mother’s ever loving tentacles.
But it doesn’t matter anymore.
Mother’s ever loving tentacles.
Nothing matters any more, save Mother’s ever loving tentacles.
White Rock had broken him.
Quaraun had lost the will to go on. Everyone he knew and loved was dead. Mother’s ever loving tentacles.
He’d lost his purpose.
He was alone.
And with a strange whispering in his mind, he knew he would stay that way. Mother’s ever loving tentacles.
There was nowhere to run.
And no one to help.
The world hated him now.
It didn’t matter.
Nothing mattered.
Mother’s ever loving tentacles.
He was going to die.
He was going to vanish.
To nowhere.
Never to be seen again.
Mother’s ever loving tentacles.
The whispering was growing louder.
Mother’s ever loving tentacles.
In his mind.
He could hear them now.
Mother’s ever loving tentacles.
“You can’t run. You won’t survive. What’s done is done. There’s no going back.”
Mother’s ever loving tentacles.
He wasn’t supposed to be here.
Mother’s ever loving tentacles.
Not in this place.
Not like this.
He could feel it.
See it.
Sense it.
Smell it.
Taste it.
Feel it.
Flee.
Need to flee.
Need to get away from here.
Mother’s ever loving tentacles.
Quaraun clamped his hands over his head and fell down to his knees. There was so much evil here. So much hate. These men. Their fight. It was bitter. Their thoughts were bloody. Years of bloody hatred. Mother’s ever loving tentacles.
The ink.
The pages.
The stories.
The readers.
The words.
The letters.
The sentences.
Mother’s ever loving tentacles. Quaraun was a psion. He could see the thoughts and minds of those around him, and around him right now were Humans thinking evil thoughts. Thoughts of murder. Someone was going to die. One of these men would take the life of the other. He didn’t want to know, didn’t want to find out. Didn’t want to see. Didn’t want to hear.
Mother’s ever loving tentacles.
A sudden nagging feeling that he was forgetting something crossed his mind. Mother’s ever loving tentacles.
Nagging.
Nashing.
Nauseating.
Nibbling.
Nibbling at the air.
Mother’s ever loving tentacles.
Needing.
Not knowing.
To feed.
Not wanting to.
Not being able to.
Nibbling.
With the beast within.
Mother’s ever loving tentacles.
This place was never peaceful.
Never.
Will be.
Will be like this forever.
Mother’s ever loving tentacles.
Ever.
Starving.
Snarling.
Barking.
Feeling the rage.
The anger.
The need.
To kill.
To maim.
To feed.
To sleep.
To kill.
To kill!
To kill who?
Quaraun didn’t care who would kill who. He didn’t want to know, didn’t want to find out. Mother’s ever loving tentacles.
Didn’t want to see.
Didn’t want to hear.
Mother’s ever loving tentacles.
Peaceful thoughts. He needed peaceful thoughts. There were no peaceful thoughts in the hearts, souls, or minds of these evil men. Mother’s ever loving tentacles.
Must get away.
Away from their thoughts.
Can’t be drawn in.
Flee.
Need to flee.
Need to get away from here.
Mother’s ever loving tentacles.
There was somewhere he was supposed to be.
Mother’s ever loving tentacles.
A better life.
A better world.
A world free of Humans.
A world safe for non-Humans.
Mother’s ever loving tentacles.
What happened to GhoulSpawn must never happen again.
Mother’s ever loving tentacles.
Never again.
Mother’s ever loving tentacles.
He needed to escape.
They needed to help him.
They would save him.
Mother’s ever loving tentacles.
He tried to block them out, but he couldn’t.
He had to escape. Mother’s ever loving tentacles.
He had to go to where no one could find him.
He had to go to where no one could hurt him.
Mother’s ever loving tentacles.
Hollering.
Howling.
Hungering.
Mother’s ever loving tentacles.
They were there.
They would find him.
Watching.
Staring. Silent.
He didn’t move.
He didn’t speak.
Mother’s ever loving tentacles.
A ghost of his past, haunting him in this unfamiliar place.
Mother’s ever loving tentacles.
A generational feud.
So much rivalry.
So much hate.
Mother’s ever loving tentacles.
Quaraun could see the anger.
Mother’s ever loving tentacles.
Too hateful.
Too vengeful.
Mother’s ever loving tentacles.
Feel the rage. It was breaking through him to his soul. Must flee.
Can not be around Humans so long. These Humans had no control of their emotions. And Quaraun's sensitive broken hive mind was reaching out grasping for it.
Mother’s ever loving tentacles.
He’d been a young boy when he was taken.
A normal boy.
A boy who enjoyed playing with friends.
It wasn’t fair.
Mother’s ever loving tentacles.
They should have been able to live a little longer. Live until he was ready. Mother’s ever loving tentacles.
He’d promised.
He’d wished for it.
But too late.
Mother’s ever loving tentacles.
And they’d taken his dreams from him.
He didn’t know how the whispering worked, but he would soon.
There was a way to cure the whispering.
There had to be. Mother’s ever loving tentacles.
Because there is no promise, not if you die first.
His mind raced through the possibilities.
Mother’s ever loving tentacles.
This.
This nightmare.
This cycle.
Of Hell.
Forever.
Loneliness.
Nevermore.
The pain.
Mother’s ever loving tentacles.
BoomFuzzy was dead.
Dead.
Gone.
Mother’s ever loving tentacles.
And now GhoulSpawn too.
Nevermore.
Mother’s ever loving tentacles.
Might as well just give up.
There was no cure.
Mother’s ever loving tentacles.
The whispering would not stop.
Mother’s ever loving tentacles.
There would be no escape.
Mother’s ever loving tentacles.
The beating of the drums in his head.
Mother’s ever loving tentacles.
The singing of the choir.
Mother’s ever loving tentacles.
They were calling to him.
Mother’s ever loving tentacles.
They were calling him home.
Mother’s ever loving tentacles.
The whispering wouldn’t stop.
Mother’s ever loving tentacles.
So much hostility.
So much fighting.
It made Quaraun nervous.
Mother’s ever loving tentacles.
Humans always made Quaraun nervous, but hostile Humans fighting amongst themselves made him even more nervous.
Mother’s ever loving tentacles.
Panic was setting in.
Trapped.
That’s how Quaraun felt.
Trapped.
And anxious.
And nervous.
Mother’s ever loving tentacles.
There were Humans fighting.
Fighting like rats.
Scurrying around, gnashing and snarling. He wanted to kill them. Just kill them all. Kill them like the hostile, mindless vermin that they were. Rid the world of their vile presence.
Mother’s ever loving tentacles.
No, must not think hostile thoughts.
Need good thoughts.
Mother’s ever loving tentacles.
The Human hostility was rubbing off on him. Their vile energy was permeating the air. Their auras black with hate.
Mother’s ever loving tentacles.
He could feel it.
See it.
It had happened before.
Mother’s ever loving tentacles.
Running.
Stumbling.
Scrambling.
Tumbling.
Rolling.
Thrashing.
Fighting.
Mother’s ever loving tentacles.
Peaceful thoughts. He needed peaceful thoughts. There were no peaceful thoughts in the hearts, souls, or minds of these evil men.
Mother’s ever loving tentacles.
“Hello?” a voice called out.
He opened his eyes.
Mother’s ever loving tentacles.
Two men were standing over him.
No.
Mother’s ever loving tentacles.
No.
No one was there.
They were dead.
And he wasn’t.
And never would be.
What was wrong with him?
What had they seen?
That boy.
That’s who he was.
That’s who he still was.
He wasn’t a monster.
Couldn’t be.
Immortal.
Yes.
He was immortal.
He couldn’t die.
Forced to live life over and over.
To watch his loved one’s die again and again.
Mother’s ever loving tentacles.
Repeating.
Reacting.
Recalling.
Reflecting.
Regretting.
Reflecting. Regretting.
Regretting. Reflecting.
Mother’s ever loving tentacles.
So much reflecting on so many regrets.
BoomFuzzy.
Why did it have to be this way?
The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.
So sad and alone.
It could have been different.
It should have been different.
Mother’s ever loving tentacles.
BoomFuzzy’s death could have been prevented.
Should have been prevented.
So much sadness.
So much regret.
Why did BoomFuzzy die?
Why did BoomFuzzy kill himself?
Mother’s ever loving tentacles.
Reiterating.
Repeating.
Resisting.
Resonating.
Resounding.
He had to escape.
Mother’s ever loving tentacles.
There had to be a way.
He closed his eyes.
He was immortal.
He couldn’t die.
Forced to live life over and over.
To watch his loved one’s die again and again.
Mother’s ever loving tentacles.
BoomFuzzy and GhoulSpawn were dead.
Every lifetime.
Unable to save them.
Quaraun felt doomed.
Mother’s ever loving tentacles.
Contracts signed in the blood of the wish granter.
Blood that bound their souls to the paper.
Bound their souls to Quaraun. Mother’s ever loving tentacles.
Quaraun was apt to abuse magic, especially the soul binding ritual. Mother’s ever loving tentacles.
His soul was broken.
Souls.
Souls were the problem.
Mother’s ever loving tentacles.
He wanted to heal it.
What better way to heal a broken soul, than by stealing the souls of others? Mother’s ever loving tentacles.
Tricking them out of their souls.
Mother’s ever loving tentacles.
Granting wishes for a price.
The price of their soul.
Few cared about their souls.
Most scoffed at the thought of a soul.
Mother’s ever loving tentacles.
Then the whispering began.
Mother’s ever loving tentacles.
In his head.
He couldn’t block it out.
It wasn’t his fault.
Once upon a time, there was light.
Then Mother’s ever loving tentacles.
There were colours.
A home.
A family.
People.
Friends.
Lovers.
Happiness.
Joy. But those days were gone.
Mother’s ever loving tentacles.
Only pain and suffering and hatred towards the world.
Unable to be with the ones he loved.
Mother’s ever loving tentacles.
There was no escape.
None.
Never nevermore.
The whispering.
Mother’s ever loving tentacles.
The whispering ever more.
Kill.
Kill them all.
Mother’s ever loving tentacles.
Let the Thullid invasion begin.
Quaraun the Insane.
Quaraun the Undying.
Mother’s ever loving tentacles.
The whispering.
It was too loud.
He tried to block it out.
But he couldn’t.
Couldn’t.
Had to.
Must.
Mother’s ever loving tentacles.
Tangled in my brain.
It was the calling.
The singing.
It told him what to do.
What to be.
He was no longer a monster.
No.
He was the Sacred Pink JellyFish. Mother of billions. Billions of babies nestled away, safe and sound, these three hundred years. Humming and singing all snug in their eggs.
Mother’s ever loving tentacles.
And he was the monster no more.
Mother’s ever loving tentacles.
The Whispers.
They were calling him to kill.
To be.
The whispering.
The singing.
He could hear them.
Mother’s ever loving tentacles.
Her 7 million eggs. They were humming. Singing. The hive mind was active again. Inside him. We live again. Mother’s ever loving tentacles.
Our race shall return. ZooLock had said it all along, that he knew Quaraun was The Chosen One. Let the Thullid invasion begin. Mother’s ever loving tentacles. He was the monster no more.
Sighing.
Singing.
Slurping.
Smashing.
Snarling.
Snickering.
Snivelling.
Mother’s ever loving tentacles.
Sniffing for the source of that delicious smell.
Taste that delicious flesh.
That’s what you’ll do.
You’ll take.
You’ll swallow.
Mother’s ever loving tentacles.
Quaraun needed to rest. His feet were cold and wet from the slushy, melting snow that filled the streets. He needed to get warm again. He closed his eyes and drifted off into a lulled, meditative state, ignoring the busy babble of Humans, instead just listening to the endless silence of snow.
That was when the whispers began, a soft droning that seemed to get louder and louder until it was painful to hear. He had to shut it out. Mother’s ever loving tentacles.
He tried to think happy thoughts.
No. Not happy thoughts. Warm thoughts.
Yes.
Warm thoughts.
Mother’s ever loving tentacles.
Quaraun’s mind drifted and wandered through the lucid thoughts that floated around inside his jelly brain head.
Home.
A warm home.
A beautiful, cozy home.
His home.
Yes.
It was a lovely, lovely thought.
Mother’s ever loving tentacles.
Warm.
A peaceful, contented serenity swept over him, filing his mind with soft, warm, comforting thoughts.
The crisp, clean smell of the fresh, icy snow.
The alpine air, floral of scents of lovely pink orchids and lush evergreens.
Filled with the melodious melodies of nature’s creatures.
Quaraun’s mind was filled with a blissful contentment never before experienced. He knew what he had to do. He had to implant his eggs. Mother’s ever loving tentacles.
His jellyfish-like brain was buzzing with thoughts of home, a lovely thought, a beautiful thought, a warm, soothing thought.
He smiled.
Mother’s ever loving tentacles.
So soon.
So quickly.
Now there was only darkness and silence.
Darkness and drink.
But who knows?
Maybe. . .
No. . .
Couldn’t be. .
Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes!
The minty fragrance of checker berries and wintergreen leaves.
The warm earthiness of sphagnum moss, peat, and leaf mould.
The cool late fall breeze wafting down the mountain, chilling the air and killing the nodding yellow headed snapdragons.
The warmth of the sun, melting the muddy, slushy golden brown snow of winter.
Melting summer snow.
Snow.
It’s all snow.
The soft blanket of white fur, the winter’s warmth.
Like Mother’s ever loving tentacles.
What a lovely thought.
Yes.
He found himself smiling.
The warmth of the sun, melting the muddy, slushy golden brown snow of winter.
Melting summer snow.
Filling creeks, brooks, and rivers full of glorious, brown mud, cascading into the ocean estuary. Lush, green reeds, tall slender grass, fluffy brown seed-heads. All nodding and waving to the oncoming winter breeze.
To joyfully be at one with the serenity of nature.
To hear the birds chirping cheerfully.
The tadpoles singing.
The warm embrace of Mother’s ever loving tentacles.
Warm, slithering, slimy, squishy thoughts of swimming in lovely, green algae filled primordial goo.
Tadpoles, swimming in one mass herd, filling the slimy muck with endless black wriggling specks, each competing for a host.
The chilled cold of dark caves.
The warmth of bubbling water, heated by underground rivers of lava.
Purple, grape-like clumps of sticky, slime coated soft-shell caviar-like eggs clung to the edges of the goo-filled pool.
The singing larvae.
Desperate.
Devouring.
Fighting.
Struggling.
Killing.
The mindless massacre of mountainous millions.
The fight to survive.
Quaraun opened his eyes.
That wasn’t right.
Let’s try this again.
Warm.
Snuggling in the arms of Mother.
Mother’s ever loving tentacles.
Mother Brain loved her children.
The soothing, tranquil thought.
Snuggling.
Deep.
Warmth.
Yes.
Again.
This can not be.
No. Not a Thullid. An Elf.
Elves think Elf thoughts. Not Thullid thoughts.
Mother’s ever loving tentacles.
Where had those slithering, squishy, gooey, slimy thoughts come from? Mother’s ever loving tentacles.
Again, he hadn’t thought about them.
He was certain of it.
Thullid thoughts.
Mother’s ever loving tentacles.
No.
He was an Elf. Not a Thullid. Quaraun told himself this over and over. Elves think Elven thoughts.
Mother’s ever loving tentacles.
Quaraun was an Elf. He was certain of it.
But he didn’t know anymore.
Mother’s ever loving tentacles.
The Elves had taken them all.
The Elves were the enemy.
No.
The Elves were dead.
They all were.
No, it couldn’t be.
He couldn’t believe it.
Not Elves.
They were gone.
No. There must be some mistake.
Quaraun tried to think Elven thoughts once again, but it was no use. Again, Thullid thoughts kept slithering in, slinking their way around his brain. He’d been away from Elf society for far too long. He’d grown to use to living with Thullids, thinking like a Thullid, talking like a Thullid, acting like a Thullid, dressing like a Thullid.
This would have to stop.
It would do no good to have a Thullid living in an Elf body, in Elf society, if it acted like a Thullid.
No. No. The Elves were dead. Elf society was gone. This was a Human world now.
Humans were the dominant species. And, apparently, they liked to destroy things.
Mother’s ever loving tentacles.
He had to get out of here.
He had to get away from the Thullid thoughts. Any from the tentacles.
Quaraun tried to think of birds and bunnies, flowers and trees, but could only think of jellyfish and squid, plecos and octopi. She longed for her ocean, so far away.
Mother’s ever loving tentacles.
A lifetime ago on another planet.
Mother’s ever loving tentacles.
Mother loved to swim.
Mother’s ever loving tentacles.
Swim with her children
A Jelly and her Polyps.
Mother’s tentacles had been cut off.
Withing in pain.
Mother’s ever loving tentacles.
Cut like hair.
Sheared with scissors.
Mother’s ever loving tentacles.
The pain. The agony.
So much pain.
The severed tentacles.
She’d never swim again.
They trapped her.
Mother’s ever loving tentacles.
Trapped in the body of a male Elf.
Mother’s ever loving tentacles no more.
A female no more.
A male now.
He no longer she.
She was no longer me.
She now he.
Mother’s ever loving tentacles.
Not allowed to be Mother.
Yes.
He stepped into the light.
Mother’s ever loving tentacles.
For so long, he’d lived in the darkness.
No more freedom to swim with the singing sea slugs or dance with the whales.
No.
Stuck forever, never again to feel the water on her skin, the waves in her tentacles. She was no longer a beautiful pink jellyfish swimming in the ocean. Mother’s ever loving tentacles.
She was now a parasite, feeding off the brain of a male Elf.
Flowers. Feathers. Fish.
Fish?
Do Elves think about fish?
No, no, no, no, no!
Your soul was your essence, or life-force, or the sum total of your being. You had one when you were born, and you had one when you died.
Mother’s ever loving tentacles.
Why is this happening all over again?
No! He had not been thinking Thullid thoughts or warm underground primordial pools. No! Mother’s ever loving tentacles.
He had been pondering Elven thoughts.
Thoughts of nature.
Thoughts of spring.
Mother’s ever loving tentacles.
No more freedom to swim with the singing sea slugs or dance with the whales.
No.
Few people in this day and age believed in souls, so most people were quick to sign a contract.
Greed.
Lust.
Gluttony.
Anything they wanted.
For free? Quaraun became a highly sought after wizard for hire, precisely because his prices were so cheap. Quaraun was very wealthy, he had no need for money. What he needed was a soul. And so he cast spells and made potions and magic items for anyone who asked. Made them for free. He asked for no money. Just your soul.
Your soul.
He craved it.
Sought it.
Hunted it.
He had become the greatest thief of all time, and he had stolen the best.
Fell from an Elf.
Mother’s ever loving tentacles.
Souls stolen. So many souls.
Overjoyed by their good fortune, and thinking Quaraun too insane to realize what a fool he was to give away his goods for free, people flocked to him, more than willing to give away the soul, that they did not believe they had.
Souls. Souls. So many, many souls. Souls stolen. So many souls.
They were the best of thieves. They would do anything for their living. Just, just, just...
No.
Not anymore.
No.
Mother’s ever loving tentacles...
Mother’s tentacles now belonged to Quaraun.
Quaraun.
I am Quaraun.
Not any longer.
Never again.
Quaraun is dead.
The Elf is dead.
I am Mother. The Sacred Pink JellyFish.
Mother’s ever loving tentacles...
Stuck forever, never again to feel the water on her skin, the waves in her tentacles.
Invading Quaraun’s mind.
Thullids.
There were Thullids in the area.
He felt them in his head.
He heard them in his mind.
No.
It was a hive mind.
Mother’s ever loving tentacles.
He was connected to a Thullid hive mind.
An Elder Brain. Quaraun was an Elder Brain. He could hear any Thullid for miles around. But the Thullids were dead and so Quaraun had not heard a Thullid thought in his mind for centuries.
Ever since, the Elves had been destroyed.
Then he heard it.
A distant and faint thought.
Mother’s ever loving tentacles.
Quaraun was an Elf not a Thullid. He always had been. But now he could feel them. They were near.
He ran through the night towards the source.
He ran as fast as he could.
No. Such madness. He could not run. His legs were broken.
They had been broken the moment he had been taken.
He was crippled.
He would never run again.
Not now, not ever.
Mother’s ever loving tentacles.
Quaraun, the crippled Elf, sat in the darkness and wept.
All around him.
His Elves. They were all weeping.
This was his fault.
Mother’s ever loving tentacles.
Yes. An Elder Brain. Quaraun had forgotten. Before living in the Elf, Quaraun had been an Elder Brain. Mother Brain.
Mother’s ever loving tentacles.
He reminded himself that he didn’t live with the Di’Jinn any more. The Di’Jinn were dead. He lived in Human society now, in the body of the last Elf. He had to remember to think like an Elf. He must remember to act like an Elf. Talk like an Elf. And think Elf thoughts.
Mother’s ever loving tentacles.
Only Elves: the creators of magic items and potions.
This was why an Elf.
Mother’s ever loving tentacles.
This was why Mother Brain was put inside an Elf. That she may have power, no Thullid ever before her had. That she may become the most powerful Elder Brain of all the Thullids.
A tiny sea creature, who was the single most powerful, most ancient Elder Brain of them all. Not just an Elder Brain, but the Mother Brain herself. Ancient. Immortal. Bound to live this nightmare again and again, endless thousands of times. Two souls, bound together, trapped forever, once again reaching the end of the world, once again hurled into the past, their eternal Hell to walk the world forever, forced to watch all they love die, again and again. Mother’s ever loving tentacles.
I am The Sacred Pink JellyFish.
I am the Chosen One.
For this purpose, I was created.
To fill the world with Thullids.
Let The Thullid Invasion begin.
No.
The Thullid Invasion has already begun.
It was inevitable the Elves would have destroyed themselves with their own technology.
Why?
Because they were Elves. They always destroyed themselves.
Mother. Father. Brother. Sister. Grandfather. Great Grandfather. Son. Daughter. Grandson. Great Grandson.
They were the best of blood.
They were Elves.
There was no other choice.
And so the Elves had everything: an Elf who could create anything, Elf who knew everything, Elves who could heal themselves with a touch. Everything.
What happened?
Where were the Elves?
What had happened?
When they’d taken the Elves, they’d said they would save them.
Pure, glorious madness.
He craved it.
He lusted for it.
And the fight to survive against all odds.
The lust for brains.
The sumptuous, juicy goodness, the delicate flavour. . .
No.
Mother’s ever loving tentacles. They were holding him, wrapping themselves around his body, lifting him up and squeezing.
To start the cycle again. For the ten thousandth time.
The agony.
So much agony.
She could not forget the pain.
The terror.
The agony.
The suffering.
The mind-numbing agony.
Squeezing.
Sucking.
Gorging.
No, no, no, no, no!
Why is this happening all over again?
Mother’s ever loving tentacles.
She could feel their presence.
She could feel them watching.
But she could not see them.
They were so close. She could feel the tiniest breeze.
Mother’s ever loving tentacles.
She knew they were there.
No! He had not been thinking Thullid thoughts or warm underground primordial pools. No!
Mother’s ever loving tentacles.
He had been pondering Elven thoughts.
Mother’s ever loving tentacles.
Thoughts of nature.
Throwing things.
The house.
The bedroom.
The window.
The open window.
The grass.
The sun.
The lake.
The lake water.
The trees.
Thoughts of spring.
Defending.
Defying.
Denouncing.
Denying.
No more freedom to swim with the singing sea slugs or dance with the whales. Mother’s ever loving tentacles.
No.
Stuck forever, never again to feel the water on her skin, the waves in her tentacles. Mother’s ever loving tentacles.
Mother’s ever loving tentacles. Gone! Gone forever.
She longed for blood.
The thirst for brains.
It was so delicious.
Oh, such delicious moments!
She licked the blood from her lips.
Quaraun was an Elf not a Thullid. He reminded himself that he didn’t live with the Di’Jinn any more. The Di’Jinn were dead. He lived in Human society now, in the body of the last Elf. He had to remember to think like an Elf. He must remember to act like an Elf. Talk like an Elf. And think Elf thoughts.
Only Elves.
What happened?
Where were the Elves?
What had happened?
When they’d taken the Elves, they’d said they would save them.
Pure, glorious madness.
He craved it.
My hair. My beautiful hair. They cut off all my hair.
Mother’s ever loving tentacles. Gone! Gone forever. My tentacles are gone. Why did they cut off all my tentacles?
Madness now. Madness still.
I’m not insane.
Pure, glorious madness.
He craved it.
He lusted for it.
Mother’s ever loving tentacles.
Delaying the inevitable.
Destroying.
Disappointing.
Hating.
Healing.
And the fight to survive against all odds.
The lust for brains.
Scurrying around, gnashing and snarling. He wanted to kill them. Just kill them all. Kill them like the hostile, mindless vermin that they were. Rid the world of their vile presence.
Mother’s ever loving tentacles.
No, must not think hostile thoughts.
Need good thoughts.
The Human hostility was rubbing off on him. Their vile energy was permeating the air. Their auras black with hate.
He could feel it.
See it.
Sense it.
Smell it.
The sumptuous, juicy goodness, the delicate flavour. . .
No.
Sighing, Quaraun ran his broken, twisted fingers through his remaining short locks, sighing.
Mother’s ever loving tentacles no more.
He looked around.
The night lay all around him.
Mother’s ever loving tentacles.
Quaraun stood up suddenly.
His foot long ears alert, high over his head, stiff with fear.
His eyes darting quickly to and fro, glancing around the darkness of night, in search of the source of these thoughts.
“No! No! Stop! Stop! Let him go! Let him go!”
Quaraun spun around and ran as fast as he could towards the source of the thoughts. But he quickly fell. His crippled legs could barely stand, let alone run, and with his crippled hands, he couldn’t push himself back up. So now he lay in the snow, unmoving once again.
“Go,” Harrier said to the nurse. “Get some warm blankets.”
The nurse went back inside to do as she was told.
Harrier knelt beside Quaraun and gently brushed his chopped off white hair from his face.
“Quaraun? Are you all right?”
“SunTa,” the Elf whispered.
“What? I don’t understand.”
“SunTa,” Quaraun said again, his voice hissing like a snake.
“SunTa?” Harrier paused and thought on this, then asked Quaraun. “What does that mean?”
“Iiii...iiii...” Quaraun struggled to speak. “Tis... my... name.”
“SunTa? No. You are Quaraun.”
Quaraun shook his head fiercely.
“Nnnn... no! Qua... ro...owne... it... it... the Elves... nnn.... name.”
“Quaraun was the Elf’s name. Yes.”
“Not mine. Not mine!”
“You’re the Thullid? The Thullid’s name is SunTa?”
“Yyy... yes. The Elf is dead.”
“Yes. I know. The Elf is dead. Just like GhoulSpawn.”
Quaraun cringed upon hearing GhoulSpawn’s name.
“A Thullid lives inside the Elf’s body, reanimating it. Pretending to be him. Just like Gremlin does to GhoulSpawn.”
“Nnnn... no moore.”
“No more? No more what?”
“No-more-Quaraun.”
“You don’t want to be Quaraun any more? You don’t want to pretend to be the Elf any more? Is that it?”
“Yyyyeeees! I-want-to-be-me.”
“Okay. Alright. We can do that. I won’t call you Quaraun any more. You are SunTa now.”
Just then, the nurse returned with a pile of fleece blankets.
“I only wanted one,” Harrier said to her as he stood up to take the blankets from her. “Help me get him inside.”
Harrier knelt beside Quaraun again, pulled him up into a sitting position and wrapped a blanket around his shoulders.
“There now, not so cold anymore. Are you all right?”
Quaraun just stared at Harrier. His face was full of rage. Anger. Hatred. He had a wild, deranged, crazed look of one who wanted to kill.
“Can you stand?” Harrier stood up and held out his hand to Quaraun.
Quaraun did not move.
“I know, your legs. They’ve been broken so many times. Never let to heal properly. You can’t walk anymore. Will you let me carry you?”
Quaraun glared at Harrier but made no move nor no sound.
“Do we know who he is?” the nurse asked Harrier.
“Yes. He’s Qua...” Harrier paused. “His name is SunTa. He’s a patient here.”
“I’ve never seen him before.”
“No. You wouldn’t have. He was in solitary confinement. He has been for years. Only a limited few may get close to him.”
“Why?”
“He... he’s a cannibal. We’ve had problems with him eating the orderlies.”
“He’s dangerous?”
“All of our patients are dangerous. We specialize in treating serial killers and homicidal maniacs, remember?”
“But... he’s killed orderlies you said.”
“Oh yes. Quite frequently.”
“How can you be so calm about that?”
Harrier crossed his hands behind his back, looked down at his feet and tried not to laugh as a wicked evil grin spread across his face. But he could not contain his wild, maniacal laughter.
“What is so funny?”
Harrier stopped laughing and looked up, staring deep into the nurse’s eye.
“Oh, my dear sweet girl? Do you really not know who I am? Hehehehe.HahahahaHAHAHA!”
“You’re... you’re,” the nurse took a few steps back, uncertain what was wrong with her boss. “You’re Harrier Mudsburge. Chief administrator of White Rock.”
“Yes. Younger brother of BlackBird. Older brother of FireHawk. Son of Aardsvorkus, son of King Gwallmaiic Elf Eat of Pepper Valley. I’m a Phooka dear, and you? Well... you’re just an expendable Human.”
Harrier paused and pulled out a machete from nowhere.
“What do you mean?” the girl whimpered as she stared nervously at the machete and continued inching towards the barbed wire covered chain-link fence.
“I mean, I run White Rock now. Not you Humans any more. And we Faeries are changing how things are done around here, and you... you have seen and heard too much. I must feed you to my pet JellyFish.”
Before the girl had a chance to run, the Phooka was upon her.
One should never trust a Phooka. Not even one who is a calm, quiet, unassuming doctor who would never hurt a fly. In fact, trust that Phooka least of all.
Harrier stood over the girl’s bloody remains, then turned to Quaraun. “Oh dear. Tsk. Tsk. Looks like you’ve killed another orderly. One of our nurses this time. She tried to stop you when you tried to escape.” Harrier pulled out his cell phone. “Finnley? We’ve security cameras that need fixing. They’ve been malfunctioning for a few hours and need to be erased.” Harrier put the phone away and turned back to Quaraun. “Now then, what to do with you? Our lovely Mother Brain. We’ve your babies to tend to. Let’s get you back inside.”
Harrier lifted Quaraun, gently cradling him in his arms, and carried him back, not to the inner sanctum, but instead to Harrier’s own living quarters on the other side of the asylum.
Once in Harrier’s office-bedroom, Harrier placed Quaraun in an overstuffed armchair, got him several more blankets. Poured him a cup of tea, and then sat in the chair across from the silent, crippled, Thullid infested Elf.
“The Thullid Invasion has begun,” Harrier said as he sipped his own cup of tea and waited for Quaraun to have some sort of response.
“Do you know who I am?” Harrier asked, gently, quietly, as though talking to a small child.
“Har...Harrier,” Quaraun whispered hoarsely.
“Yes, but, also no, that’s not what I meant. Harrier is my name, this is correct. But I wondered, do you know who my grandfather is?”
Quaraun stared at Harrier through his half-blind good eye and said nothing, than after a moment shook his head, “no”.
“You called him, BoomFuzzy.”
Hearing the name sent sharp twinges of pain through Quaraun’s chest.
“I’m sorry. I know you loved him. And I know he loved you. And I know you think he is dead. But I assure you he is not. You and him were connected. You shared each other’s thoughts and feelings. You knew what he was thinking, he knew what you were thinking...”
“Soul...”
“Soul bound? Yes. That is what you called it. The Justice Mages, when they captured you and imprisoned you here, they did something to break the bond. I’m not sure what. But in any case, you can no longer feel BoomFuzzy’s emotions or hear his thoughts, and so they could trick you into believing he had died. That his soul was consumed, his body destroyed, the Lich eliminated. However, it was all a ruse. BoomFuzzy still lives. And they do not break the bond on his side. Every bit of suffering and agony and heartache and pain you have felt, he has felt with you. And they used it to torture him. They made YOU suffer, so that he would suffer, because they couldn’t find any other way to torture him.”
“W...whe... where..”
“Where is he? He’s been moved. He’s safe now. I saw to that. I don’t like him. He was a terrible person. But what they were doing to him was deplorable. I couldn’t let it continue. He’s at The Twighlight Manor now. We’ve forced him into a horse form, he can’t shape shift out of it. He has special binders that prevent him from shape shifting or using most of his powers. But he won’t be harmed. He has a herd of horses for company. A horse is his natural form, so it won’t be unpleasant for him. He’s still essentially in a prison. He is a criminal, and he is dangerous, so he belongs in a prison. But he won’t be tortured any more. And he’s in Roderic’s care now. I trust Roderic. H’s a good man. Fair and just. He won’t hurt your BoomFuzzy.”
Harrier paused.
“I have control of White Rock now. We are making a lot of changes. Do you understand what is going on?”
Quaraun said nothing.
“You won’t be going back to the inner sanctum. You won’t be tortured any more. You’re safe now.”
Harrier watched Quaraun, waiting for some kind of reaction, but Quaraun sat emotionless, expressionless as he listened to Harrier’s words.
“I’m not sure yet where to put you or how to deal with your... your rather unique situation. We can minimize your ability to use your powers. Make it so you could live a more normal life without fear of accidentally granting wishes. But... your eggs. You’ve been implanting the guards. Building a Thullid army, so to speak. That hasn’t gone unnoticed. If I could trust you to stop doing that, stop implanting people, I might be able to get you some level of freedom. Let you live at The Twighlight Manor with BoomFuzzy. You two could be together again. But your eggs... they’re a problem. I feel the only way we may be able to trust you is if we remove the eggs. It would be a delicate surgery. We’d have to cut your head open, and there is significant risk of damaging the JellyFish is she did not give up her clutch willingly.”
Harrier paused again.
“I don’t want to hurt you, and I know you love your children. And I feel that without BoomFuzzy and Gremlin, you clung dearly to your clutch of eggs and they became more important to you than ever. You felt alone. You wanted a family. And so you started implanting your larvae into the White Rock guards. Several have turned already. I could kill them, destroy them, nip this Thullid infestation in the bud before it gets out of control. However, that seems unnecessary. Other than the host bodies they killed and stolen, they aren’t hurting anyone. And you seem to be the only female Thullid, so there is no danger of further reproduction without you. Do you understand what I am telling you?”
Quaraun did not respond.
“I’m telling you I want to set you free and had you not taken to implanting the guards, I could do that right now. I could have Gremlin come here, pick you up, take you to the Twighlight Manor, and the three of you could live together again, you and your unicorn and your sheep demon. Quaraun...”
“SunTa.”
“SunTa. Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“Not Quaraun, the Elf who loved horses?”
“No.”
“SunTa. The JellyFish who killed millions?”
“Yes.”
“You know, of all the times for you to reject the JellyFish and be Quaraun, this is it. This is the one time when being Quaraun and not the JellyFish is go into making a difference whither I can sign your release papers of not.”
“The-Elf-is-dead.”
“The Elf wanted to be with BoomFuzzy and I’m giving the Elf that chance. To walk out of here today. Right now.”
“I... am... SunTa.”
“SunTa.”
“SunTa.”
“I’ve been to the past. I’ve seen how you were. The three of you were so in love. You were treated cruelly. You were treated wrongly. You shouldn’t have done the things you did, but I saw why you did them. Your family was murdered. You fought back against your attackers. And most of it wasn’t you. You passed out. The pain in your heart. The agony was too much for BoomFuzzy. He couldn’t watch you suffer by losing another family. He killed those people, not you. It was always him. Every time. I went back to every event. The Di’Jinn. The Moon Elves. Ongadada. It was never you. You didn’t kill those people. None of them. It was BoomFuzzy every time. He’s the killer, not you. You and GhoulSpawn never should have been punished. Neither of you should ever have been put in White Rock. You weren’t a killer before you came here. But you’ve started killing the guards. And you ARE a killer now. You weren’t dangerous when they falsely accused you, falsely arrested you, and falsely locked you up in White Rock.”
“Mother’s ever loving tentacles.”
“Mother?”
“My hair. My beautiful hair. They cut off all my hair. Mother’s ever loving tentacles. Gone! Gone forever. My tentacles are gone. Why did they cut off all my tentacles?”
“Who is Mother?”
“Mother Brain loves her children.”
“Her children? Who are Mother’s children?”
“Ratzins.”
“The Ratzin Guards?”
Quaraun nodded.
“The ones you turned into Thullids.”
“Mother loves her children.”
“Why do you keep saying that?”
“Quaraun loved his children. But he loved BoomFuzzy more. Quaraun murdered his children to resurrect BoomFuzzy. Mother would never kill her children. Mother loves her children, more than Mother loves BoomFuzzy.”
“I think when left to yourselves, not bothered, the three of you are harmless. Each of you seems only to become dangerous when attacked and threatened. You kill out of self defence, not out of pleasure. I’ve already let Gremlin go. You know this. And he’s adapted well. He has two houses. A summer house on the beach, and a sheep farm behind the Manor. Collects those ridiculous cars. He’s held down a job for quite some time. He’s still got problems with his drug addictions, but it’s not out of control and it’s manageable. He loves you, you know. He desperately wants you with him. He’s gone and located all of your things. Your wild pink wardrobe, your bright pink tent. Your jewellery. He even found your gold finger armour. He bought Space Dock 13. HellBorne’s portal. The old black lighthouse, the one where the three of you used to live. Where you raised your sons. Vielder. Melaca. Vangonese. Do you even remember your sons?”
“Vielder and Melaca were murdered. Ongadada.”
“I know. Roderic is Melaca’s son, you know. Roderic, he’s your grandson. He’s the one doing all this. Roderic. He’s the one making these things possible. He’s trying to make it so the three of you: Quaraun, BoomFuzzy, and GhoulSpawn, can be together again.”
“Quaraun and GhoulSpawn are dead. We are SunTa and Gremlin now. We are Thullids now.”
“I know. Gremlin takes care of the Manor’s horses. He takes care of BoomFuzzy. And he knows it’s him. He knows which horse is BoomFuzzy.”
“Mother’s ever loving tentacles.”
“Who is Mother?”
“Mother Brain loves her children.”
“You are Mother?”
“I am.”
“I see.”
“I am Mother, he is Father. We love our children. Gremlin prepares the way. He goes to the past to make sure our work is not undone. The Thullid Invasion has begun.”