literature

The Dreamer's Egg (22)

Deviation Actions

Published: Jun 21, 2016

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Literature Text

It came up around her ankles first like a slithering, pulsing mass. She never liked snakes, and she’s never met a tentacle, and and now it’ll haunt her dreams. She turns back to the hole of light, a beacon in the darkness. The Girl watches thick darkness drip down from the top edge, dripping and dropping to splat at her feet. The dripping mess glues up the hole, starts to block out the light, like strands of cobweb growing thicker. She tries to turn, to run, to escape, but whatever shapeless, monstrous thing has her legs, it’s not letting go. Especially not when its food was so polite as to walk right in. The entrance closes up cutting of the Girl’s cries and screams, equal parts fear, anguish and rage. She’s come so far and only to get devoured by the wet darkness that wraps its way up her legs, slimy and beating like a heart. It lashes around her arms, bubbling and bursting like frothing soap, stinging and burning. And then she sees. In the darkness, the mountain spire falls away, space, time, everything around her falls away. She’s found herself in the bed of a god, and Girl’s just stirred it awake. I’ve heard all manner of horror dining what the Dreamer could be. The old folks said this spire was the rutting ground of the gods. Pavos, Charandria, Agintoth even—we just had the rotten luck to get caught in the way. The storm wall was to keep us out, not trap us in. Doesn’t matter much, I suppose. We’re less than ants to the Gods. Truth is, I don’t know. Girl wasn’t inclined to tell me, and I wasn’t inclined to ask, not with that look in her eyes. Some things snap a man’s mind with just a glimpse. I’d guess whatever the Girl saw in that egg she’ll take it to her nightmares and her grave. But whatever happened in that damned egg, the end of it was her turning up in the Desert Teeth, the sandy graveyard beneath Maya, final resting place of those ships that weren’t so lucky to crash on the beach.