"I see the world as it truly is: breathtaking in its chaos, terrifying in its order. And I must uphold both"
My heart pounds like a war drum. It wants to sink into my stomach, drag my shoulders down, deny the reality my eyes perceive. But this is real.
Blue-skinned creatures. Their figures range from gaunt to massive. One of them hurls itself against the window, the glass trembling but holding firm.
Three times, it slams its half-shattered head against the sturdy bus window. Its skull splits further, oozing with writhing maggots feasting on its exposed brain matter. My stomach churns at the grotesque sight as the creature, with its mangled hand—little more than stripped bone—smears blue blood against the glass, desperately trying to burst its own empty eye socket. Thick, inky liquid dribbles down the transparent shield that separates me from them, my fragile sanctuary in this nightmare.
My breath quickens. White specks dance in my vision. My limbs tremble. I sway.
Breathe. Steady yourself.
My shaking hand grips the heated silver bar of the bus. Breathe. I press my cold, sweat-drenched forehead against the back of my hand. My stomach revolts, and I barely manage to stifle a retch. Sticky remnants of bile smear across my brow. The acrid stench of vomit clings to me.
More pounding against the windows.
A cold blue glow bathes the scene, casting jagged shadows across the floor. My knees buckle, my body sinking into the bus's dim interior.
I bite the inside of my cheek, my brows furrowing in pain. A drop of vomit trickles down my left eye. My fingers claw at my sweat-soaked shirt, gripping it tightly as if clinging to my last shred of control. I press the fabric against my mouth with both hands, a desperate mimicry of prayer.
A plastic bag would be better, but there's none to be found.
My eyes widen. My breath catches in my throat. My body recoils instinctively, limbs scrambling backward like an overturned insect. The sight before me sends ice through my veins.
A crack in the glass. No—beyond that. A horde. Larger, broader figures pressing forward. Their ravenous eyes gleam with madness.
My brain struggles to process the grotesque details—the writhing maggots spilling from their gaping maws look almost like frothing foam, like rabid beasts on the verge of attack.
I lurch backward until my head slams against a seat. A sharp pain erupts, momentarily eclipsing the horror before me. I hiss in pain, my hand flying to my throbbing skull.
A massive shadow engulfs me. The eerie blue light vanishes.
My gaze crawls sideways, slow and unwilling, just as shards of glass explode into the air. My body refuses to move. It's happening too fast.
A monstrous figure looms. Towering over two meters tall. A grotesquely broad face, half torn away, its skull barely clinging to a massive neck. No, not even a neck—just a thick column of exposed vertebrae supporting a grotesquely oversized, amber-hued head.
Maggots and thick, orange blood drip onto my disheveled hair.
The behemoth reaches out. As if it's the most natural thing in the world, it grips the metal wall of the bus and rips it away.
Two blue-skinned creatures are flung aside, their twisted bodies colliding with the neon-lit asphalt. They lie still for a mere three seconds before stirring, groaning, rising—shambling forward once more, their jagged grins exposing more maggots than teeth. Their eyes, empty yet burning with the color of the sun, fixate on me.
My elbows jerk upward, shielding my face. The hulking orange beast exhales sharply. I freeze. No breath. No sound. Only the cold sweat trickling down my cheek.
My heartbeat eclipses everything else. It pounds in my ears, in my throat, in my fingertips. My entire body thrums with it.
The decayed, peeling feet step closer—like the flesh of a skinned orange.
I dare not move. My gaze flickers upward, meeting its hollow, gaping eyes. Its grotesque head barely stays attached, pressed against the ceiling, barely held together by whatever remnants of flesh still cling to its bones.
Should I strike first?
One blow. A well-placed kick, and I could bring it down.
The weight of its step sends a gust of air rushing past me. It is enormous. A creature broader than any bodybuilder, radiating sheer physical dominance. My earlier thoughts dissolve into nothingness. They were a lie.
The blue-skinned creatures, no taller than me, shamble into the bus behind their monstrous leader. Black spikes pierce through their bodies, yet they move undeterred.
And still, I remain frozen. Silent. Paralyzed.
A rancid stench of rotting eggs floods my senses.
The giant bends down, its breath hot against my trembling hands—still raised in a futile shield over my eyes.
I swallow hard. It burns in my throat.
Every step it takes shakes the ground. Every breath I take drives my heart into a maddening tempo. My senses sharpen. I feel the rough, worn floor beneath me, the sickening heat of its breath, the wriggling maggots burrowing into my hair, slipping into my shirt, staining my once-white fabric with putrid orange.
To my right—a grating noise. To my left—a rasping wheeze.
My vision flickers. The giant extends its open hand toward my face.
Will it crush my skull? Scoop out my brain like a delicacy?
Darkness edges my vision. My mind spins.
My body moves before my thoughts can catch up.
The impact of its step rattles my bones. My palms slap against the floor as I scramble backward.
My soaked shirt clings to my fevered skin. My right elbow twists. Pain flares. I cry out.
My back turns to the beast. My trembling hands push against the floor, but my weakened right arm falters.
Its breath sears the nape of my neck.
Maggots drop onto my exposed skin, wriggling into my collar. My fingers claw at the bus seats, desperate for escape.
I must look pathetic.
My breath shudders, my bloodshot eyes reflecting the dim, sickly glow.