Saga - PT Hungry [The Monster Challenge, Oct. 2020]

Title: Hungry [The Monster Challenge, Oct 2020]
Prompt: hungry
Place: Coruscant
Date: 19 BBY

Hungry
for Gilman, Gaiman, & Rothfuss​

I am in the pit—the poisoned place. A space filled with pressure and waves and dripping brights. My stomach parts churn against all the Doing Against.

Up-up above, fear is hunting with sudden hurt and sharpened burns. Walking and stalking in the elegant palace. It's made its home there now, up in the up-up above. Bumps to remind me, on the square tiles, many spaces above my head. Move faster, cub.

This pit is jutting out scares. Just me-safe in this place; everything else is a Not Safe. Squeeze my numb eyes shut and shoulder through. Do not brush against the monsters. Don't stir the uprighty one that glowers and groans in his big box. His tiny red eyes always blinking. Blink, blink, blink—blink. Blink, blink, blink—blink.

In the dark, I sneak past. Bend a little and tiptoe. Go softly now, cub. Keep the thickening breath tucked inside your throat. The air is alive with zappy stings.

False light! This one hangs a trap within the blue-green wavy shells. Do not stare into the light and widen your eyes. Hear that monster hissle? Turn away and move away, cub. Shield it from your mind. No Safe here.

Scruffingly shuffle. Low monsters groan down near the hard stone. Sounds of mashing and gnashing, and deep slow twisting. My bare toes curl—they twitch me their fears of treading on tails of rubbery black thickness. Keep to the path. Keep to the path. Just reach the metal and the stairs that go down. Down a little deeper, cub.

Nothing climbs and clamours on that metal and those stairs. Stairs are a no-place space for a holding up and gathering up. Not a Safe, but I will let a few Times go by before I move on. Bumps go on bumping. Not so far away in the up-up above.

I—thirsty? —this is fear. My sharp fear.

That little green-short-ancient is gone now, too? Is he? That little monster-not-monster with the funny backwards speaks. He made soft head-rainbows that I need now. His chuckles rolled deep. But those days are gone. The Ceasing is near, and my head is full of falling walls. Silence will grow on my back teeth and press my jaws open. I must not yell.

Bumps on the polished tiles up above. Something moved to the corners, and then a crossing back again. There is clack-el-ling and stomp-el-ling. My own steps bump backwards in my mind time.

Shoved the big quiet door inwards and let the black suck me in. Down I went in spirals. Down, down to where we once were told not to go. A pale bony finger pointed long over us, and a warning wavered throughout our heads. The pit. The pit!

The monsters are hungry in the pit. Always feeding and never giving. Always gripping and lapping with long rough tongues. Pressure and waves; sparkle brights before my eyes.

This one slices a burning dagger above my head. It can't reach me 'cause I am small. But it's a Looker-For-Things, and it will scream a hideous shaking scream. I close my eyes and duck under. My stomach parts hurt. My brain parts, too. Here—just past the corner of this one eye, my own finger pushes. It feels different—my own solid parts in this place of quick head feels and hands full of whassits.

Just step onto that top metal stair, and touch the rail. Where is it? Relief will flood into my palm and shoot into my bumpity heart. Down and fast I will go then, and leave the monsters groaning and moaning at the top. Out of reach and out beyond; I know that the door is still there. A different door, with airs and stars waiting. I remember its other side—the out? The Outside—when I felt the lurking pressure of the pit. Lecture words were given there, but my head was always towards the door. The pit.

Here am I. My arms find only me to hug. Feet, move me on please!

But what are these white poles rolling through the dark? This one meets me. It splashes on my arm and chest. My hand moves through it, feeling its waves. I know it. This is Light. This is...

* * *​

"Lord Vader?"

"What is it, Commander Appo?"

"Another youngling, my lord. A Gotal child by the looks of him. Heh. I'm kinda surprised he's not dead already with all these old computers down here. It really scrambles their brains, I hear. Well—shall I carry out the Order, my lord?"

End​

 

Oh wow.

Literally no other words will suffice. That was amazing...wow


Sent from my iPhone using Tapatalk

 

I was all along trying to figure out who we were riding along with.
I love stories through eyes that see things in a different way.

 

You suck the poor reader right in like Arthur Machen´s large and glorious gem-stone in the horror story "The inmost light". Then follows a grotesque Kafkaesque ride, paired with Lovecraft like helplessness and a grim ending waiting like in a Poe story.

Well done! Especially for the surprising end!

 

@Kit', @GregMcP, and @AzureAngel2,
When I wrote this, I didn't know if the channeling of my inner Gotal child would be well-received. Thank you for the compliments and comments!

@AA2 - I've added Machen to my reading pick list. h/t

*off to do handsprings and cartwheels-o-joy

 

Yer made a cool little thing. You should be happy.

 

Oh wow, that was really creepy... in a good way! I got sucked right in wondering what was happening. Great use of the prompt! Great story telling!!

 

@mavjade: many thanks! It was fun to be challenged to explore this writing style.

 

Spooky and sad and well-written. I love seeing the world through alien eyes -- everything becomes a completely different experience. Plus, an excuse to research the Gotal -- bonus!

 

@Seldes_Katne, thank you! Gotals are fun.

Paid for by Bess Heiger for President.

 

Well done! I especially enjoyed reading through it a second time after discovering who we were following. What a perfectly melancholy and spooky fic.

 

@ViariSkywalker, that means a lot to me! Many thanks!