Tag Archives: rotting

Knives Out (Encounter II)

The second encounter was not a dream. It was as real as you or me. In the kitchen, I found the two biggest, sharpest knives, and fled. But there was no escaping Ghouli. It was like a heat-seeking missile of monster death, and it was only interested in my flesh. Somehow it crossed the boundary that protects us from our fears and inner-most thoughts, the ones that torture us in our sleep. I don’t know how it made the leap to our world, and why it was only interested in me. But IRL, I was all alone, as if the world had emptied out while I slept, and I was being stalked. I knew it immediately, before ever I saw it. It was the smell, that musky, stomach-turning stench of spoiled flesh and fermenting trash. I learned in Biology that humans have evolved to innately fear the smell of death for our own safety…