Re: The Fearsome Encounter (GBS3G8) [Round 1: Circumlocution]
09-04-2011, 08:44 PM
Originally posted on MSPA by 50,000 Unstoppable Watts!.
"Hey, there's my--Ohhhh hell."
Of course. Of course. That blasted feathery turd would have to lead him right to the god-damned spider. Saturday recalled a man who hated spiders. No logical reason for it, just couldn't stand the things. How alien they looked, the way they clicked when they walked. Drove him nuts. Drove the man from Saturday's recollection nuts, that is. He cussed at that stupid old shit who passed the hate of spiders on to him.
Then, he began talking directly to the thing, somehow suddenly thinking it could understand him. He was a beast of delusion in that way.
"Pardon me, but ah... Ahem... Y'think ah could be havin' that coin, there? A little flyin' mischief-maker went 'n' boosted it from me."
The spider just stared. Saturday recalled a man who didn't like how it stared.
"...Right... Ain't gettin' a word a' this, are ya. Welp, ah... Y' can understand gestures, cain't'cha?"
He pointed to the coin, then to himself. Then he held out his hand and put on the biggest smile he could manage. Now, Saturday didn't recall a man who was forgetful, because that man never knew it; but just the same, he'd forgotten that his smile could be a bit disconcerting to folk. Worse yet, he'd forgotten that his face paint--Was it paint? It didn't wash off--compounded his creepiness. He had no idea he looked like a wolf bearing its fangs.
So of course, when the spider dropped the coin down its coat, he was visibly frustrated.
"Wanna play hardball, eh..."
And then he fell. Just toppled over backwards, like a scrawny red-haired pillar knocked off-balance. What was strange was that, when he hit the ground, he didn't stop falling. The ground undulated like water buckling from impact, and he vanished into his shadow.
Won't get fancy. Not worth the bother. Just take it and get gone.
For a moment, Cepra just stared. The shadow danced and flickered as though it were still bound to its creature of origin. Yet the creature was gone. The thin silhouette bowed and tipped its hat, then began to slither, wiggling across the jagged blades of grass. Cepra found herself not so much attacking the ground as pawing after the shadow like a simpler beast chasing a light on the wall. It did not register her swipes, only danced about with immunity. She clicked her fangs angrily and doubled her efforts, smashing the earth where the blackness loomed.
She became so embroiled in the chase that she did not notice the needle-thin strands of shadow bleeding off, rising steadily up and around her. She didn't notice, until they billowed out to the thickness of her arms and seized her all at once with a chorus of whipping and snapping. Cepra swung and squirmed, cutting a tendril here and there, but still they swarmed and wrapped around her, binding her in place. The shadow clamped down on her, but she struggled yet.
She tensed up as she saw the shadows converge on the ground, forming a black, slimy puddle. It convulsed and coiled upwards 'til it came above her head, then began to take the shape of... something. Not quite a man; like it, but something far more devilish. Viscous black skin; thin arms with clawed hands; beady golden eyes; and a leery, crescent grin.
Well, I suppose I got fancy anyhow.
Saturday grinned, but did not say a word. He wondered how it'd sound in this form. But words did no good here, he knew. The creature would nevertheless understand this: that he did not like being trespassed upon. Were he estranged from his possessions, he would quite simply take them back. He reached out a monstrous, clawed hand, his sights on the indent in her coat where his coin hid...
"SQUAAAAAAW!"
...and stopped cold when he heard a booming cry off to his right.
"What'n seven hells..."
Saturday turned. His arms drooped stupidly at his side. His mouth settled into a deadpan stare, a straight yellow slit across his face. His light-bulb eyes flickered on and off, an approximation of blinking. Had he the presence of mind, he might've recalled a man who would be damnable stunned at the sight before him. Then again, he was doing a fine job of that as he was.
"...Is... Izzat a penguin?"
"Hey, there's my--Ohhhh hell."
Of course. Of course. That blasted feathery turd would have to lead him right to the god-damned spider. Saturday recalled a man who hated spiders. No logical reason for it, just couldn't stand the things. How alien they looked, the way they clicked when they walked. Drove him nuts. Drove the man from Saturday's recollection nuts, that is. He cussed at that stupid old shit who passed the hate of spiders on to him.
Then, he began talking directly to the thing, somehow suddenly thinking it could understand him. He was a beast of delusion in that way.
"Pardon me, but ah... Ahem... Y'think ah could be havin' that coin, there? A little flyin' mischief-maker went 'n' boosted it from me."
The spider just stared. Saturday recalled a man who didn't like how it stared.
"...Right... Ain't gettin' a word a' this, are ya. Welp, ah... Y' can understand gestures, cain't'cha?"
He pointed to the coin, then to himself. Then he held out his hand and put on the biggest smile he could manage. Now, Saturday didn't recall a man who was forgetful, because that man never knew it; but just the same, he'd forgotten that his smile could be a bit disconcerting to folk. Worse yet, he'd forgotten that his face paint--Was it paint? It didn't wash off--compounded his creepiness. He had no idea he looked like a wolf bearing its fangs.
So of course, when the spider dropped the coin down its coat, he was visibly frustrated.
"Wanna play hardball, eh..."
And then he fell. Just toppled over backwards, like a scrawny red-haired pillar knocked off-balance. What was strange was that, when he hit the ground, he didn't stop falling. The ground undulated like water buckling from impact, and he vanished into his shadow.
Won't get fancy. Not worth the bother. Just take it and get gone.
For a moment, Cepra just stared. The shadow danced and flickered as though it were still bound to its creature of origin. Yet the creature was gone. The thin silhouette bowed and tipped its hat, then began to slither, wiggling across the jagged blades of grass. Cepra found herself not so much attacking the ground as pawing after the shadow like a simpler beast chasing a light on the wall. It did not register her swipes, only danced about with immunity. She clicked her fangs angrily and doubled her efforts, smashing the earth where the blackness loomed.
She became so embroiled in the chase that she did not notice the needle-thin strands of shadow bleeding off, rising steadily up and around her. She didn't notice, until they billowed out to the thickness of her arms and seized her all at once with a chorus of whipping and snapping. Cepra swung and squirmed, cutting a tendril here and there, but still they swarmed and wrapped around her, binding her in place. The shadow clamped down on her, but she struggled yet.
She tensed up as she saw the shadows converge on the ground, forming a black, slimy puddle. It convulsed and coiled upwards 'til it came above her head, then began to take the shape of... something. Not quite a man; like it, but something far more devilish. Viscous black skin; thin arms with clawed hands; beady golden eyes; and a leery, crescent grin.
Well, I suppose I got fancy anyhow.
Saturday grinned, but did not say a word. He wondered how it'd sound in this form. But words did no good here, he knew. The creature would nevertheless understand this: that he did not like being trespassed upon. Were he estranged from his possessions, he would quite simply take them back. He reached out a monstrous, clawed hand, his sights on the indent in her coat where his coin hid...
"SQUAAAAAAW!"
...and stopped cold when he heard a booming cry off to his right.
"What'n seven hells..."
Saturday turned. His arms drooped stupidly at his side. His mouth settled into a deadpan stare, a straight yellow slit across his face. His light-bulb eyes flickered on and off, an approximation of blinking. Had he the presence of mind, he might've recalled a man who would be damnable stunned at the sight before him. Then again, he was doing a fine job of that as he was.
"...Is... Izzat a penguin?"
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