A second large piece of plywood crashed to the floor, the sound echoed through the small building like a gunshot. Cracks spidered out across the laminated glass. Some sections bowed inward, ready to collapse. Outside hundreds of thrall stand waiting. Some sway like reeds near a pond. Others stand, no movement at all, sleeping. The…
Erik began moved toward the group. He felt the weight of the groups eyes upon him. Something felt off and he immediately recognized it. A sudden sinking feeling. His stomach tightened. Erik looked back at Rebecca. She stood still. Not a breath. Not a twitch. He glanced at the others. Their expressions were tight, unreadable.…
Erik’s eyes opened, slow and unwilling. Erik was surprised he wasn’t dead. He had for the umpteenth time give in to Teraphobia’s attempts to break him, yet here he was. A memory surfaced before the rest of him did: the sea of human-like, shells, hollow but functional, surrounding two towering Collectors. Rebecca ran, their monstrous,…
Erik screamed out toward the thrall. He listened as the towering stems and pig weed broke under the incoming horde. The tentacled Groundling reached out, brushed his ankle. Erik turned, snapped a thick stalk from the ground. He threw the stalk at the mystery creature within the grass. A tentacle wrapped itself around the stalk…
“So what do you think, Tommy?” Mary said. “Hmm… sounds fun,” Tommy began. “…but really… what do we know.” “Well,” Mary began as she poured Tommy a glass of whiskey. “As you already said to Mr. Carson, he is part of the Carson… “What do we know of the New World Group?” Tommy asked he…
Mornings within the walled off, reclusive world are the worst part of an already fucked up life. The smell of decay mixed with body order, sprinkled with a constant moaning. The moaning was worse then the stench at times. A twisted symphony of pain expressed in guttural “Ohhhhs” all day and night. Tommy stared at…