Monsters are getting clever, getting into our heads and making us question what it means to be human.
They make us blur the lines between creature and person until all that's left is us.
And that's how this all began, that's how you ended up hiding under the coffee table in the waiting room of a doctor you don't even go to, praying that the receptionist either can't smell your fear or is human enough to not tell anyone that you're here.
The shadows outside the window snarl and wrap themselves around the iron bars, testing their strength. They'll eventually work their way round to the doors, the wide open doors that lead straight to the waiting room you are hiding in. Shadows may be blind but they're still tactile enough to feel a heartbeat once they've spread out enough to consume an entire room.
This particular set of shadows go by the collective name Sarah and they are technically your coworker, only Sarah caught a sample of your blood when you got a paper-cut and now they want the whole bottle, so to speak. At least your somewhat-human manager was understanding of your need to flee until HR could find a matching blood-type donor for Sarah to consume.
HR is sadly and woefully slow to act, what with their hive-mind-majority-brain-holder at present being a semi-sentient moss ball that can only answer yes or no questions. There were far fewer incidents when Sheila was the brain-holder, she may have been the soul of a four hundred and ninety two year old woman trapped in the body of an eight year old but she knew how to solve a crisis on the spot.
The moss prefers to bask in temperate sunlight, floating in its mostly-water-with-just-a-pinch-of-blood mixture rather than prevent the loss of employees, such as yourself.
The faint scent of sulphur begins to seep into the waiting area which can only mean that Sarah found the door.
With no word from HR and the words "Hope it's quick and painless" sent by your boss, you brace for impact.
They make us blur the lines between creature and person until all that's left is us.
And that's how this all began, that's how you ended up hiding under the coffee table in the waiting room of a doctor you don't even go to, praying that the receptionist either can't smell your fear or is human enough to not tell anyone that you're here.
The shadows outside the window snarl and wrap themselves around the iron bars, testing their strength. They'll eventually work their way round to the doors, the wide open doors that lead straight to the waiting room you are hiding in. Shadows may be blind but they're still tactile enough to feel a heartbeat once they've spread out enough to consume an entire room.
This particular set of shadows go by the collective name Sarah and they are technically your coworker, only Sarah caught a sample of your blood when you got a paper-cut and now they want the whole bottle, so to speak. At least your somewhat-human manager was understanding of your need to flee until HR could find a matching blood-type donor for Sarah to consume.
HR is sadly and woefully slow to act, what with their hive-mind-majority-brain-holder at present being a semi-sentient moss ball that can only answer yes or no questions. There were far fewer incidents when Sheila was the brain-holder, she may have been the soul of a four hundred and ninety two year old woman trapped in the body of an eight year old but she knew how to solve a crisis on the spot.
The moss prefers to bask in temperate sunlight, floating in its mostly-water-with-just-a-pinch-of-blood mixture rather than prevent the loss of employees, such as yourself.
The faint scent of sulphur begins to seep into the waiting area which can only mean that Sarah found the door.
With no word from HR and the words "Hope it's quick and painless" sent by your boss, you brace for impact.
No comments:
Post a Comment