Sunday, 8 December 2013


I hope what I write here makes sense. It's almost impossible to concentrate after what happened.

I forced myself to go back to the underground lake. I had to see what was out on that spit of rock. I passed the ashes of the fire. The bowl was gone. I walked along the spit, shining my torch on the slippery surface. I was terrified of plunging into the dark water. When I was close to the end of the spit, I could see what was there.

It was a wrinkled bag of flesh about twice the size of a basketball. I knew what it was; it had the remnants of a face. The bowl the creatures had used was underneath, collecting the blood that dripped continuously from the thin slits I knew were eyes. My stomach turned. A voice echoed through my head, one I recognised from my dreams of the tundra. The old woman's voice. She told me to kill her. I had nothing with me. I closed my eyes and used my foot.

The water began to bubble and the spit began to shake. I realised what was happening and ran. I didn't make it. The huge thing in the lake smashed into the spit and the rock exploded, sending me spinning into the dark, freezing water. My chest clenched. I swam blind in the direction I thought would lead me out of the lake. It did. I climbed out and ran to my alcove. The huge thing bellowed behind me, and as I hid myself away, I heard the skittering sounds of the creatures running, dragged out of their slumber.

I won't sleep tonight.

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