Cthulhu & Cheap Wine
Mike’s head buzzed around inside his skull. The night was kind to him and he was kind back, he devoured himself in the soundless drone of shot glass hitting the sugar maple that made up the bar counter. Glass on counter, glass on counter. He had given up his quest for ultimate drunkenness mere minutes ago and now was set to head home. Suddenly. The earth shook in such a mighty push Mike jerked back with such a force he was sure he would die right then and there. When he came to all he could see was the mist of cheap hand rolled cigarette smoke hit and deflect off the roof of such a low-quality establishment. Finally, when he saw a familiar face, he realized how pale everyone had become. A sickly grayish pale, a deathly pale. Their skin was stuck to the bone with no fat to fill in the spaces. And there eyes, dear lord. They reflected the very essence of Death himself. Alas, there were no dead-lights only the slow rocking of a 100-watt bulb attached to electrical cords. Mark wondered if he wasn’t looking at people, but the ghosts of people’s souls: what evil men see when they look in the mirror. Or kill. That’s when some of the booze started to wear off and he felt a cold, stabbing restriction in his heart. A trickle of blood carved a path from his head. Not from the back of his head, to Mark’s surprise, yet from his nose. The (thought to be) earthquake could not have sent him head over heels, had it? Still, the blood flowed down his nose and into his still agape mouth. The mix of blood, sweat and scotch swept forth a plethora of emotions and strange fantasies only suitable for HBO specials or Conan the Barbarian serials. A burst of sound made Mark jump to his feet and sober to half-cocked. The jukebox, it was only the sound of music.-the hills were alive with it, he snorted, but laughter only unsettled him more. There was something about the words he said that he can’t put his finger on…- Then, the lights flickered. Three quick bursts of darkness in secession followed by the power dying for 7 whole seconds. Leaving Mark’s Redneck style cheeseburger to slosh in his stomach and choose one escape route from only two directions. When the lights came back on everyone was colourful and mobile again. Mark stood frozen for 1.24 seconds and then decided to do what every man does when they are faced with the horrifying and unexplained. Mark ran. Then, thankfully, his burger chose the first route. And when Mark ran he only noticed two items of his surroundings:
1. The streets are empty
2. The streets in which I am running are vague and unfamiliar.
But these messages were not being sent to his cerebral cortex, and Mark continued to run blindly in the wasteland formerly known as his city. He ran for a time only counted in blinks. He ran for 511 blinks, and then rested refusing to blink. The sun was blotted out by a grayish blue “cloud”. It was thick, swirling and long enough to surpass the horizon in all directions. Every now and then there would be a bolt of black lightning, no dark lightning. Shadow lightning. Shadow: the absence of light, bolts of them. And through the cloud, in the distance, lumbered a hideous creature. A being not meant for eyes. Mark saw it, and instantly he cried. He wanted to run, but his knees buckled and he struggled for balance, balance and understanding. What Mark saw was almost vaguely human, though the size of God himself. The thing had a bright big smile, and glowing red eyes. But the teeth were not teeth at all but dangling, squirming tentacles that dragged across the ground. It had no face except for those eyes and those teeth, those tentacles. It sported two pincers and two grotesquely muscled legs. The legs were full of miniature tentacles spiralling and continued up onto its belly where the tentacles grew bigger but slivered off into sharp blade-like ends. On its back were wings, not two huge wings; tiny specks grazing across its back. At first Mark thought the specks were hairs, but the hairs started to move and flap like tiny “Y”s. Those “Y”s would be a lot larger in person, and far more grotesque. Then, for a mere moment, Mark locked eyes with the beast. And for the first time in his life, Mark experienced terror. Surely, it didn’t see me. Did it? The things eyes grew brighter and it started to move forward. It moved with the slowness of a snail, making sure every stomp was heard. It was if a mountain decided to walk. A mountain or a huge hill. And the hill was alive. And the hill was alive with it. And it, was evil.