With the Passing of Time

White Fear (incandescent ficlet)

Posted on: May 17, 2008

The creature approached us, slowly and methodically. It was more a shape than a body, a mass of shifting plasma forming and reforming at the whim of some horrific god. Its skin glowed, as if lit from within by a filtered incandescent light. It had no face to speak of, yet it formed words through its viscous flesh, a slithering guttural sound that you could feel in every synapse of your body.

I tried to determine how it was moving, looked for some obvious mode of propulsion, but found nothing. It could have been gliding or floating or shifting forward in incremental fragments of time. In the end it didn’t matter; it was an impossible nightmare made real before our eyes. Either curiosity or fear kept our feet rooted to the ground, unable to escape its choking presence.


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Willingness to join soil, sound, hands; memory follows me ~ Viggo Mortensen


Daily words come from Merriam-Webster's word of the day. All rambling comes from my head.


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