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Let's Play a Game

A wild synopsis appears.

Meowlyn · Fantaisie
Pas assez d’évaluations
5 Chs

The Monsters

"How long do I have?"

Hmm... about 5 minutes

"You couldn't have told me this sooner?!" He loudly retorts, madly scrambling for the double swinging door. "You definately does this on purpo-"

He cuts himself off. Dozens upon dozens pairs of glowing red eyes peering at him from within the darkness.

He carefully retracts his steps and gently closes the double door before swiftly extracting a couple of heavy duty shelves and lumping them in front of the door.

Thud! Thump! Scritch scratch!

He hears their violent impact into the double door, scratching and hissing angrily at him for disturbing their tranquillity before.

"I'm surprised they didn't hear me just now." He remarks before turning and looking at the other door that seems to be leaking shadowy wisps.

"Huh. To the shadowy death or the double doors demise? Decisions decisions." He hysterically comments on his own predicament.

Pulling up his inventory, he proceeds on retrieving the rotten goods, dumping them all near the hissing double doors and draping some on the shelves. He then rearranges some fridge and tables beside the shadowy door into an L shape with a gap door side, so that he is out of sight from both doors.

"How much longer?" He asks the voice anxiously, gnawing on his lips in agitation.

Twenty seconds

He peeks at the double door from his formation and sees dozens of tiny claws reaching through the gap they have made. Lucky few manages to hold onto the rotten food and those claws that do dissapear back into the darkness. He feels a tiny bit relieve. At least they are interested in the food piles which will buys him some time.

Crash!

The other door is finally breached, shadow billows in, condensing the area and do what it does best, lowering everyone's visibility.

Slap... slap... slap...

Uneven footsteps sound by the movement of bare, drenched feet. With him no longer being chased, the wheezing and clicking noises are deafening in his ears. He shudders from fear at the opressing ambience it emits and graps his forearm to control his shivering. Cold unforgiving dread settles in him once again.

It moves to a stop around the general direction of the rotting items. Horrifyingly, he can hear its flesh stretching, tearing and bones crackling, its wheezing sound stumbles and the clicking unevens. Almost as if... it unhinges it's jaws...

Grostequerous munching reverberates around the almost bare room. He gags from the horrendous noise it is making.

Then little thumping and clinking noises can suddenly be heard. As if tiny little creature with nails moving on top of metal surface.

Subsequently, there was chaos.

A loud blood curdling screech and dozens of furiously hissings clashes. Squelching noises and bones snapping, several thumps of fleshy things impacting the walls. All these happening in rapid sequences.

Taking advantage with all the commotion, he discreetly forces himself to move. His trembling limbs tread forward one step at a time, squeezing past the pre-made gap and out the door towards sweet freedom.

Miraculously, he makes it out without the creatures detecting him, emerging out of the shadowy hell with trails of wisps clinging onto him. Behind him, the fierce screeches and hissings are still on going.

He desperately takes a deep breathe of the cool refreshing air, not realising that he has been holding it for the past minute or so. And then, he bolts.

He runs as fast as he could, ignoring the deep fear that clawed its way in before, without a goal nor destination barring the though of increasing the distance between him and that harrowing monster.

From the distance he hears a spine chilling roar of triumph and with it... echos of replies.

He brings himself to a sudden stop, almost sprawling into the ground and darts into an alley, tucking himself into a corner beside a dumpster. With trembling hands, as silent as he can, he removes a metal cabinet from his inventory and places it in front of him to hide himself from view. That is all he can do.

He presses his shaking hands to his mouth, trying desperately to stop himself from whimpering in terror.

The reason for that falls on one of the echoing returns. A rumbling hum, so low and close that it vibrates his very core.

He recognises instinctively that this thing is a lot worse than the others.

Clink

He slowly lifts his head, his terrified gaze lingers for half a second on the claws that is on the metal cabinet before trailing after, connecting it to the creature that is peering down at him. Helpless tears begins fall and its mouth stretches into an inhumanly large grin filled with ghastly incisors.

He is oh so very weak. A teeny tiny little mouse, scrambling around in a field filled with mounstrous cats.

It does seems like he needs help, doesn't he?