“I wonder if I’ll taste good?”

It inches closer, coming out of the underbrush. Its hulking body sloshing and pooling on the ground.

“They told me he likes heavier bodies, but I don’t know.”

Tiny clawed hands grasp at dirt, dragging its long tail behind it. Two eyes lock on, and its mouth melts open.

“I wonder if I should have taken off my clothes? I can’t imagine my tee-shirt tastes that good.”

Three rows of nothing but canines slide into view, spilling mucus down its now existing throat.

“I suppose it’s too late now, isn’t it? Oh well.”

It rises up, long tendrils digging deep into the ground to hold it up. Hundreds of tiny hands reach out and pull its meal towards it.

“Oh, hey big guy! I’m so honored you chose me! God! I’m such a big fan! When the Grand Leader said it was my turn….”

Wrapping its mouth around the chatting mortal, it bit down, its teeth shredding the skin and spilling blood into its body. A warmth spread through every pore as it absorbed his soul, and vibrated with the screams of minds driven insane.

As it crawled back into its temple, it spit out a pair of shoes.

—

Special thanks to: Collin Pearman, Dylan Alexander, Jerry Banfield, Michael The Comic Nerd, Pulsatilla Pratensis, and Zeony.

Did you like the article? Dislike? Tell me about it in the comments. I would love to hear your opinions! If interested in specific articles, or want to write as a guest, you can message me at scifibrandonscott@gmail.com. If you want to help keep this blog going, consider becoming my patron at https://www.patreon.com/coolerbs. Thanks for reading!