Naomi

3/Groped by a Rope

Something tickled the top of my head.

I batted it away.

It-cat swiveled its massive head, ears perking. It levered onto its hind legs, tail twitching. Giant paws came up, claws gleaming. For a stuffed toy, It-cat sure looked real.

Another ruffle-tap, this time sliding down the back of my neck. I slapped at it, expecting to feel a gossamer thread, with a burly eight-legged monster attached. I'm not usually afraid of spiders, but ugh--I figured the ones here would have at least 32 legs and 16 eyes. Okay, truth time: I'm terrified of those fanged freaks, even the ones small enough to dance on the head of a pin.

I smacked harder.

Instead of catching web, I felt coarse rope, bristly like twine. It danced again, up and down, a lasso trying to loop around my neck. I grabbed it with both hands and pulled, grunting with effort.

An unearthly shriek exploded in my left ear, followed by a surprised shout. I twisted sideways in time to avoid a falling it-person and the It-cat turned Hank the Hunter. The it-person was a solid chunk of skin and bones. It smelled like a marshmallow, clean and flavorless. Hank's breath reeked like a dumpster. Rotten vegetables, spoiled meat, crawling blue mold.

I kicked at them both, overbalancing. One ungainly twirl landed me in a heap on the floor. Gravel scraped bare flesh, brightly colored shards bounced against the glass, scratching it.

I stared at my feet covered in dark green chips...and something else.

Sticky. Dark. Blood.

Mine.