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Short Tales of Talestria
Short Tales 1: Chapter 6, Flint Chipkins: Not a Prelude Yet

Short Tales 1: Chapter 6, Flint Chipkins: Not a Prelude Yet

Tears streamed down Flint Chipkins' face as he stood amidst the devastation, his world crumbling around him. The air was thick with smoke and the cries of the dying.

"My children! Where are my children?" a woman wailed nearby shortly before her eyes were sucked out of their sockets.

"Gods save us!" another voice shouted, cut short by a wet, gurgling scream as the innards of the chipmunks around them were sucked out as if through a vacuous straw.

Creatures of grotesque shape surged through the chaos, their bodies used as implements of war altering with merciless precision.

Bones snapped, flesh tore, and the sickening thud of bodies hitting the ground punctuated the cacophony of terror.

Flint's heart raced as he watched one of his cousins have their liver ripped free, digested in an instant. It was a gruesome spectacle that shattered his sanity.

"Flint, help me!" came a desperate plea, drowned out by the roar of flames and inhuman shrieks.

Desperation clawed at him as he turned to flee. He sprinted toward his home, each step fueled by a primal instinct to find his family as the encroaching darkness sought to claim him next.

Nipping at his heels, the sounds of death and destruction drew nearer. Screams of agony, the crunch of skulls being liquidated, and the hiss of blood on burning burro echoed through Flint's mind.

He pushed forward, his paws slipping on the gore-slicked ground as he navigated through a hellscape of mutilated chipmunk bodies. All around him, his fellow chipmunks were being eviscerated in increasingly horrific ways.

Organs liquefied and sprayed across the burning landscape, creating a macabre mist that hung in the air. One chipmunk's body inflated grotesquely before bursting, showering Flint with bits of flesh and bone.

Another's skeleton seemed to dissolve, leaving behind a quivering sack of skin and muscle that continued to scream.

Flint finally reached his house, his heart pounding with dread. The door, once a symbol of safety, now hung off its hinges, splattered with blood and worse.

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With trembling paws, he pushed past it, only to be confronted by a scene of unimaginable horror. His family – father, mother, sister, brother, uncle, and aunt – lay in a heap of organless skin husks.

Their bodies had been hollowed out, leaving behind empty shells that bore the agonized expressions of their final moments.

The creatures responsible for this atrocity loomed over them. With casual indifference, these monstrosities used the flayed skin of Flint's loved ones as floss.

They cleaned between razor-sharp teeth that materialized and vanished within their ever-changing forms. The sickening sound of skin stretching and tearing filled the air. Flint stood frozen, his mind reeling from the horror before him.

In a fit of madness, anger, and resentment, Flint charged forward past the grotesque scene as quickly as his trembling legs could carry him.

For a brief moment, the monstrosities ignored him; too engrossed in their gruesome feast to notice his escape. Seizing this chance, Flint bolted up the stairs.

His paws slipped on the blood-slicked steps as the creatures gave chase; their gurgling sticky footsteps following behind.

Reaching the second floor, Flint burst into his father's room. He slammed the door shut with such force that splinters flew.

Frantically, he barricaded the entrance with whatever he could find - chairs, dressers; anything to buy him precious seconds. Lungs burning and smoke bellowing through the air made it hard to concentrate.

Blood dripped from various cuts across his body; staining his fur and leaving a trail of crimson droplets in his wake. With shaking paws, Flint reached under the bed and pulled out an ornate box.

Inside, he found the Chronosnout Femur – his father’s good luck charm. Clutching the femur bone between his teeth, Flint scrambled to the window.

The sound of wood splintering forced his steps faster as he leapt out into the night; sailing onto the nearest house within the burro. Bounding with all his ability he moved; each landing sending jolts of pain through his mind and tortured soul.

Looming ahead, he ran to the most central building amidst the inferno of smoke, blood, dying screams and ash. Memories of fading moments flashed through his mind; chipmunks were being eviscerated in the streets; innards sucked dry.

Bodies amorphous twisting and turning created a true symphony of horrors.

With each bound, Flint felt the weight of the femur ebb as glints of energy ran through his body; grating against his teeth.

Reaching the most central building; he stood stooped and nearly fell on its precipice; tears flowing from his eyes. He attempted a determined shout but his words sputtered meaninglessly.

At that moment his foot gave way and he fell to the ground breaking his legs and catching the attention of the monsters surrounding him. The femur broke his teeth as he fell. Blood swelled in his mouth as his mind began to give way;

the monsters already upon him with hands outstretched.

"No no," he cried in his mind with ever-increasing vigor as a horror slashed apart his face crushing the femur. It left behind nothing but a sputtering rip holding the sound of tearing silk.

Faint glimmers of ethereal light flowed out. A song could be heard far away; close enough to hear but not so close to understand.

In one small movement lines formulated and began to coalesce as if a hand reaching out to invite a creature nearby to immerse itself in its depths. It whispered—

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