“You know, I think I’m starting to recognize you now, Ezra; you’re the guy people liked telling stories about.”
Lyle felt comfortable enough to talk out; despite having reservations when it came to his companion, it was the silence he wanted to get out of the way.
Ezra stopped, looking over his shoulder awkwardly. His right eyebrow raised impossibly high, a slight smirk on his face, from the absurdity of bringing something like that in the middle of all this.
“Thanks for the reminder,” Ezra replied after a few seconds.
"No, no, it wasn’t all bad all the time. Like- “
“Like'stories’ about how creepy I am? Or the one where people said I killed and ate that kid that went missing?” The first he said with a tone of amusement, the second with a tint of venom.
“That one was fucked up, but there were people who called others out on that one.” Lyle’s answer was almost apologetic, as if he were speaking on behalf of the people who made the rumour up in the first place.
“Yeah, one. Ashwood.” Ezra said the name quietly, some distant familiarity evident.
“Yes, her and others too; just because you don’t know their names doesn’t mean they didn’t do anything.” Lyle said this with a lot of confidence, maybe even a little anger. “T-that isn’t saying that it makes it any better... not like they did much else.” He added, just to try to reassure Ezra that he wasn’t condoning any of the rumours.
Ezra’s first instinct was to go on how some words from people who don’t know him aren’t much of a condolence, seeing how the rumours never quite stopped. Or how that Ashwood girl was the only one who actually walked up and checked in on him once in a while, which was the only reason Ezra could even remember her name, even if it wasn’t her first name.
But he didn’t want to sour the fact that Lyle spoke out for those people either. Mostly because it didn’t matter, especially not now.
The two of them sighed, none of them to sure what to make of the other just yet, and they wouldn’t have the time to try and change that fact, as their attention was taken away from their conversation, towards the far darkness of the current hall.
Quite a distance away, a silhouette, carrying with it oppressing sounds of wet squelching and what the two of them could only describe as a faint buzzing.
----------------------------------------
It was tall. Impossibly tall. Taller than the creature Ezra encountered before, but able to walk upright instead of barely supporting its own weight. It looked very human at first glance, but at the second, the missing arms and the layer of some kind of wet mucus dripping from its skin onto the ground were a dead-giveaway for anything but.
It's head... wasn’t visible. The topside of the creature stretched so far up to the ceiling that the only explanation one could muster on how it was possible was that nearly half of its body simply phased through the material above.
Each wet step in its ear-numbing sticky gait seemed more irritating than the last; you had to almost thank it when it decided to stand still. It seemingly took it’s time to muster the two students with an unseeing gaze from further away.
It just stood there, unmoving. Neither Ezra nor Lyle dared to take a step back, unsure if it was sensing the two of them at all. They didn’t even try to look at each other.
The moment Ezra tried to faintly whisper, the creature shuddered, some of its mucus now lining the walls. Then nothing for a few seconds, until the very faint buzzing they had heard before suddenly got louder.
Ezra and Lyle scanned their surroundings, trying to pinpoint the source of the buzzing. Ezra closed his eyes to focus better, only to feel Lyle’s hand on his shoulder. Ezra looked at him, Lyle’s mouth open and his eyes staring up. His other hand stretched towards the ceiling.
Above them, a shadow loomed, mucus dropping just in front of their feet, the buzzing ever louder.
A long cylindrical tube-like body manifests, pushing itself down from the upper floor towards the two of them. Carcinomic growths lined themselves along its worm-like body, oozing more of the dubious liquid. Pulsating movements, not unlike catching one’s breath, for every centimetre it managed to rappel itself down.
If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.
The length of the wormhead seemed inexhaustible; it was now slithering across the ceiling, more and more length added with every pulse.
In a slight spectacle, the wormhead slithered toward one of the cheap light fixtures, yet it’s near-gargantuan size didn’t cause the hallway to darken at all, nor did it seem to break the fixture itself; the light simply seemed to pass through it as did the wormhead itself, the fixture awkwardly sticking out of its body without either physically reacting to one another.
Ezra and Lyle were but glass, the slightest misstep promising their shattering, unsure whether the lightest tremble of their fingers would cause the Wormhead to descend on them.
The minds of the two of them worked in unison, both scanning for the same thing: a place to fall back to should the creature fail to pass by.
A staircase next to the tall body, still only standing there. Close to it, an inconspicuous door, quickly identified by Ezra to be one of the janitor’s closet imitations.
The only way was forward. It was clear. It was just a question of who would be the first to take initiative.
Lyle and Ezra, taking a risk and making too much noise, turned towards each other slightly, using slight gestures to communicate.
Ezra pointed towards the staircase, which was met by a nod. He then put his palm up, pointing towards the ceiling, then to himself, then back to the ceiling again.
After a second, Lyle’s eyes went wide, his body tensing up even more. "No,” he formed with his mouth, which formed a source of frustration for Ezra.
Before either of them could even try to have a gesture-based argument, they heard wet steps behind them.
It was now clear that they couldn’t stand idly anymore; a quick glance toward one another was followed by both of them making their presence known. Lyle choosing to curse the creature above out crudely,
"Oi, you abused fleshlight!” while Ezra simply whistled very loudly. Whether it was to their delight or dismay, was going to be left open, as the buzzing that had been assaulting their senses stopped abruptly, followed instead by what could only be described as spontaneously imploding concrete of the exceedingly wet kind.
The 'shadow’ looming over Ezra and Lyle, suddenly more than just a metaphor, as physical rules suddenly insisted on including the Wormhead once more and began its dive towards the ground.
The duo pushed each other against their respective sides of the hall, narrowly avoiding being crushed. The Wormhead crashed down awkwardly, vile screeching audible from its writhing body. The mucus it secreted splashed wildly, much of It hitting Ezra while Lyle managed to avoid most of it; in turn, he was hit by some of the debris around and above
Ezra found himself troubled to move effectively. Nausea set itself up rapidly, while the Wormhead’s flailing turned into more focused lashing towards Ezra.
Lyle rushed forward, seeing the tall body stretched on the floor, stumbling against some of the lockers and over the debris around. He saw that the ‘tall body’ was in fact connected to the rest of the Wormhead, it’s ludicrous length on full display.
With most of the attention going to Ezra, Lyle was able to make it to the staircase, taking great care not to step into or anything that had movement attached to it. He looked back to Ezra, and with it the immediate contemplation of even attempting any help.
Ezra himself, immediately aware of his predicament, shouted towards Lyle, seeing hesitation in his escape even through his, barely having the strength to even do so.
“RUN, DON’T THINK ABOUT IT.”
His shouting was swiftly met by a whip to his chest, completely knocking out the last bits of breath he had in him. Then a sharp pain in his right arm, a thousand needles digging into his skin and further beneath, and the sudden feeling of being lifted up and whipped around, being slung at the lockers against the edges of the ceiling, Ezra’s stubbornness reaching unfathomable heights by not falling unconscious, despite being used as the world's most blood-filled chewing toy.
After he was thrown , he was left to lie on the ground, wincing, his breathing heavy, his vision clouded by his own blood.
“Had to end this way,” he thought to himself, wallowing only about the fact that it hurt this much. Clutching his eyes shut, he awaited his fate.
“Tsk, now look what they did to you, you little thief.” A touch to his cheek, that velvet voice treading the line between condescending and venom seeping into your core.
Her, that girl that had been trying to goad him into giving into the call for power that had been announcing itself.
When he opened his eyes, his blood wiped aside, he saw that Cheshire smile, but with it, yellow eyes and silky blonde nearly ethereal hair, adorned by a big black hat, big enough for the tip of it to not be visible from below.
“You little wretch have made me into a joke among the others. A human stealing power from the masters of this game... how exceedingly and utterly ridiculous." There was some real fire behind the wall of indignation she tried to put up. Even while she gently moved her nails along Ezra’s forehead.
“F-fu- “ Ezra was cut off by her hand holding his mouth shut.
"No, no, you die quietly. You only get to bark if I am the one telling you to.”
There was force behind her grabbing, her hidden wrath boiling over.
“Look at you. Such delicate skin, all ruined. Quite a fulfilling site, I must admit.” Her smirk grew even wider
"If only you had more of a mind to use what you have stolen. A fitting end to die to creatures even I find abhorrent, well fit for a thief. Pathetic, but that is how you would refer to yourself anyway, wouldn’t you?” Her hand now rested beneath his chin.
“Or you become what you’re meant to be anyway. The choice to be a wolf is not made lightly or at random, you know? There is always a good reason.”
She leaned in closer.
“You were meant for this,” she whispered, her hand brushed a strand of hair from his face and behind his ear.
“You could be so much more. You just have to accept your lot.” Her voice then took on the quality of soured sweetness, both her hands clutching at his throat, digging into it.
“Be a dear, won’t you?”