The worst monsters are the ones that have been lurking inside us for years. The ones we pretend don't exist, pretend everything is fine and we don't need to see a doctor of any description. We didn't even realise these monsters were as alive as we were until they decided to leave us.
It feels... cathartic. Like you're tearing out a chunk of your soul to better yourself, ignoring the way it trembles on the tiled bathroom floor, newborn and unsure of itself. They grow up so fast, slinking their way down drains, through open windows and out into the great wide world.
When they came back we hardly recognised them as the same grey-tinged, rusty red sludge that had poured itself from our burning throats mere months before. Some were almost uncomfortably human, though their skin swirled like oil against tarmac, while others refused that pretence and embraced every bit of nightmare fuel we'd ever given them.
They came back to us like children after their first day at school - tired and changed in ways we can vaguely sympathise with. They wanted to go home, not to us as people but to our bodies as shields. Millions are gone already, reunited as they like to say.
Reunion is a harsh word to swallow when you see all the meat they had to scoop out to make room for themselves inside of us. In some places the skies are always black - full of crows feasting like they've never feasted before and spoilt for choice among the fields of the dead.
It feels... cathartic. Like you're tearing out a chunk of your soul to better yourself, ignoring the way it trembles on the tiled bathroom floor, newborn and unsure of itself. They grow up so fast, slinking their way down drains, through open windows and out into the great wide world.
When they came back we hardly recognised them as the same grey-tinged, rusty red sludge that had poured itself from our burning throats mere months before. Some were almost uncomfortably human, though their skin swirled like oil against tarmac, while others refused that pretence and embraced every bit of nightmare fuel we'd ever given them.
They came back to us like children after their first day at school - tired and changed in ways we can vaguely sympathise with. They wanted to go home, not to us as people but to our bodies as shields. Millions are gone already, reunited as they like to say.
Reunion is a harsh word to swallow when you see all the meat they had to scoop out to make room for themselves inside of us. In some places the skies are always black - full of crows feasting like they've never feasted before and spoilt for choice among the fields of the dead.
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