Rest in Peace (?)
Posted: December 1st, 2021, 10:53:10 pm
Please accept my silly little short entry to the competition
Finally.
Peace at last.
I shudder as I remember the awful, soulless eyes staring down on me, the sharp beak tearing at the soil around me. My friends, my family, ripped out one by one, torn in half and swallowed by that…thing.
Though I writhed, crawled, tried to burrow deeper, it found me. Hunting with no sound beyond the claws scratching at the earth, the dreadful white feathers rustling.
Amagnae.
Every year they grow, and every year the legend is passed down amongst my brethren.
We are worm kind.
If we cannot burrow deep enough, if the soil is too soft, they will find us, as it has found me.
I dangle in its beak, the beady eye sizing me up before I am enveloped in its maw.
Darkness.
And peace. I am no longer hunted. I have been told of the soils of the worm afterlife, the peaty, warm, damp soils where we go when we are swallowed.
I am here.
My form is ghostly, it is not the same existence, but at least I am no longer hunted. As raindrops moisten the soil above me, I burrow up to take in the air of this new plane.
But.
No.
It’s not possible.
Fading into existence, mere feet from me. Transparent, ethereal, just like I am.
How has it followed us here? Here, we were are supposed to rest for eternity.
Once more, the horrid, sharp beak descends upon me, and I know that this time, there will be nothing more.
This is the end.
Finally.
Peace at last.
I shudder as I remember the awful, soulless eyes staring down on me, the sharp beak tearing at the soil around me. My friends, my family, ripped out one by one, torn in half and swallowed by that…thing.
Though I writhed, crawled, tried to burrow deeper, it found me. Hunting with no sound beyond the claws scratching at the earth, the dreadful white feathers rustling.
Amagnae.
Every year they grow, and every year the legend is passed down amongst my brethren.
We are worm kind.
If we cannot burrow deep enough, if the soil is too soft, they will find us, as it has found me.
I dangle in its beak, the beady eye sizing me up before I am enveloped in its maw.
Darkness.
And peace. I am no longer hunted. I have been told of the soils of the worm afterlife, the peaty, warm, damp soils where we go when we are swallowed.
I am here.
My form is ghostly, it is not the same existence, but at least I am no longer hunted. As raindrops moisten the soil above me, I burrow up to take in the air of this new plane.
But.
No.
It’s not possible.
Fading into existence, mere feet from me. Transparent, ethereal, just like I am.
How has it followed us here? Here, we were are supposed to rest for eternity.
Once more, the horrid, sharp beak descends upon me, and I know that this time, there will be nothing more.
This is the end.
