Gnal’s shifting shape hovered like a dark storm cloud over her crafting station. Four white lamps stood as miniature sentry towers at each corner of the desk, their spotlight beams focused on the makeshift operation table. An array of meticulously arranged tools refracted the harsh light, dotting the otherwise gloomy room with glimmers of dancing silver. Gnal held a pair of titanium tweezers in one phantom tendril. Another wielded a freshly opened tube of industrial strength glue, with a third wrapped securely around the base of her fuzzy bird pen. Gnal’s remaining appendages writhed like a school of nervous eels in the background. She ignored them and concentrated on the impending operation.

Selecting a black and white round from the spare parts jar with her tweezers, Gnal flipped the eye over and dabbed a spot of glue to the back. She felt three more mouths pop into existence. All of them poked their tongues out in concentration as Gnal navigated the googly eye to the bird. She pressed the two together and held them. A fourth tendril activated the timer positioned on the desk below her.

Several eyes grew bored of waiting and began to wander. The ethereal glow of early morning light peeked through the gap between the tightly drawn shades behind her, casting the curved walls in hues of blue and violet. Gnal couldn’t see the outside on account of the shades, but she knew the moons would soon be setting, making way for the blue star. The arrival of the sun brought both light and early risers to the Void dimension. Gnal actively avoided both. Normally she would have been tucked away in bed by now, but her poor birdie needed mending and, by the great slithering gods, someone had to do it. Unfortunately, that someone had to be her.

The glue needed another thirty seconds to dry. Gnal’s thoughts drifted back to work. The rest of the night shift had passed in relative normalcy compared to how it’d started. Another two rift seals and Gnal had returned to the office with enough time to file all of her paperwork before calling it a day. She’d swung by the custodial closet on her way out and bid farewell to the sanitation crew. Mop even waved goodbye. An actual wave, with all four fingers and thumb and not just the customary middle one. The friendly gesture had looked as unnatural as Gnal felt receiving it. Chalking it up to Mop’s attempt to stay in her good graces, Gnal brushed it off and drifted home.

Beep! Beep! Beep!

The timer went off, pulling Gnal from her thoughts. She hovered closer and examined her handiwork with several critical eyes. All forty-two mouths broke into an approving smile.

“Perfect.” She placed the pen in a temporary stand to finish drying and drifted out of the room. One of her tendrils remembered to switch the lamps off in her wake. Gnal floated to the second floor and settled into her awaiting cardboard box, adjusting her incorporeal form as needed to fit snugly inside. Pulling the thin blanket over her, Gnal closed twelve hundred eyes and fell into a deep sleep.

She awoke several hours later to the sound of someone pounding on her front door.

This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

Gnal shrank deeper into the box as her mind, still groggy with sleep, raced for answers. Had she forgotten her parents were visiting from out of town again? No, that wasn’t possible. Like all eldritch abominations, Gnal had been born of magic, and therefore didn’t have parents. A friend was a much more likely option. Except she didn’t have any of those either. The neighbor then, Gnal concluded.

Yes, that was it. The twit next door, Barry, who raised pedigree show proodles – proodles were like poodles, but comprised of cosmic dark matter with ten times the eyes, teeth, and superiority complex. Barry was always up in arms about something. His demands were ceaseless, growing louder and more entitled with each passing week: trim your grass, Gnal; prune the hedges, Gnal; stop planting carnivorous tulips along the fence between our yards! It wasn’t Gnal’s fault he’d lost two prize proodles to her flower garden. Should have let your precious proodles piddle in your own yard, Barry!

To Gnal’s relief, the obnoxious pounding ceased. Knowing Barry, he was probably taping a sternly worded letter to her door and calling it a day. Gnal snuggled back into her blanket and was drifting to sleep once more when she heard the handle on the back door rattle. A few metallic clicks and pops later, it creaked open with a shrill squeal. Gnal shot up out of bed. She was already zipping through the air, barreling towards the lower floor, tendrils multiplying unchecked, when a horrific yowl caused her incorporeal body to spasm. Her body shifted under its own volition, transforming to an unfamiliar form – one severely under equipped to fly.

Regrettably, it didn’t float any better.

Gnal plummeted, screaming, and struck the floor with a wet splatter. Her vision swam, clouded with a swarm of flickering lights. Her hearing drifted in and out, muffled, as if her ears had been stuffed with hot, static cotton. Caught in a daze, Gnal missed the soft clickity-clickity-clack of tiny goblin claws scuttling across the tile. To her credit, even with fully functioning ears, it would have been difficult to hear anything over the deafening wail.

A few unbearable seconds ticked past before Gnal’s senses picked themselves up off the floor and dusted off. Strictly in the metaphorical sense, unfortunately. She blinked multiple sets of eyes, hoping that if she kept at it, the perplexing scene set before her would change for the better. No such luck. To Gnal’s horror, she realized her incorporeal form had been traded for a tentacled body, one which was currently plastered to the floor like a starfish desperately clinging to a pier pile at low tide.

Try as she might, she couldn’t get her darn particles to switch back. Stifling a scream, Gnal tried to unstick her stubborn suction cups from the floor. She’d nearly gotten an entire tentacle free when a hesitant voice rang out over the wail. “Gnal, you home?”

Gnal choked on her surprise. That and the floor, as it was pressed uncomfortably close to her beak mouth. “Mop?”

“Oh good. This is your place,” Mop said with a nervous laugh. “You know what they say, third time’s a charm.”

Gnal didn’t have time to consider the implications behind Mop’s words. Presently, all she could focus on was the horrible cry. The wail, much like Mop’s tentative steps, was steadily growing louder in Gnal’s direction. “What is that?”

“Funny you should ask. Remember that thing you said to never speak of again?”

Heat flushed across Gnal’s velvety skin, transforming her aching tentacles an unbecoming pink color. She threw her bulbous head back, mouth still muffled by the darn floor. “Mop, so help me, that’d better be a goat!”