Imagine a world, where a major metropolis was invaded by an extra dimensional eldritch lifeform, and you are alone witnessing the terraforming work to pave way to its whole species. Walking around, without any way to defend yourself from any harm, just seeing the things slowly changing the familiar surroundings into something not quite rational. You’re looking for others, for you think that there’s safety in numbers. Or at least, you yearn for others to share this insanity you’re seeing in front of you. Walking along once-busy boulevards, you can sense something out there, but whenever you look for it, there’s nothing. Regardless, you know it’s there.
The eerie silence doesn’t help either. What was once a busy shopping district with the usual hustle and bustle of shoppers is now lifeless and dilapidated, the very environment contaminated with the alien catalyst that’s adapting your world right now to resemble their non-Eucledean architecture. All of this and more; sometimes you see a clump of gelatinous slime. Some can be as little as a cat would be, others as large as two or three people grouped together. To complete the scene, contrarily you can here this subtle drone in the back of your mind. You can have never been able to pinpoint its source when you focus, and maddening when you didn’t.
You still march on in search for others.
It has been a few days now since you’ve awaken even since the fall of civilisation. Oddly enough, you’ve never felt hungry or tired. In the moments when you decided to take a rest at some malformed bench in shapes physically impossible, or below a tree with branches warping into and out of nothing, you felt some sort of inner piece. Slowly accepting that the world you once knew has ended, and now is superseded by this maddening excuse of a ‘world’. More than that, during the days of walking around searching for survivors, you’ve seen less and less of the amorphous clusters of slime, and more of some sort of amalgamation of internal organs and gore in humanoid forms.
Some did try to approach you a few times, and you’ve always ran away as fast as your fatigueless body can carry you through the maze of bending unreality. The droning sound you’ve heard since has also been increasingly loud, yet still maintained it’s subtlety as before. Only now, it seems to permeate you, from within and without. As you stare sullenly at the wrathful yet calm sky in the color of rotten tree sap, you dozed off for the first time.
You’ve woken out of your dreamless slumber by the caress of the ground. The ground? You looked beneath you, and you see a carpet of anemone-like tendrils, waving their appendages like bidding adieu to a childhood friend.Strangely you are not repulsed by this. In fact you see that you are surrounded by a group of the humanoid organ-clusters.
+You are human once, but now you are one of us+
You heard the sentence being spoken out of nowhere and from a specific humanoid, extending its ‘hand’, beckoning to join him and his group.
+Come, She is calling us+
Without hesitation nor haste, you rise up to grasp its ‘hand’. Only you are not reaching out with your fleshy, human hand, but instead it’s the same bundle of sinew and rotten flesh that make up the humanoid beings. With a shrug, you accepted the hand offered, along with your fate as no longer being human.
Never again will I listen to this kind of song.