This morose procession ends in a massive, lightless cavern, in which the disfigured persons are forced through an arcane and painful transformation ritual that results in the addition of several new limbs, all twitching and bleached white as deep sea fish that have never seen the sun. Then, the procession attendants serve coffee and yam pie.
Suddenly you hear it—a little knock at the door. Soft and slow, near the bottom. After a moment, there’s a tiny cough.
A lurid purple appendage stretched out of the thing’s mouth, rolling like an alien tuber towards the tuna, sucking it up and catching the ceramic plate on fire.
No first person narratives here, oh no; the reader is along for the tragic ride, watching the characters stumble towards doom not so much because of their flaws but in spite of their strengths.
“Horrifying, right?” the cultist grinned. “You’re about to be driven to the brink of madness, yeah?”
“Oh…yeah. Absolutely,” Mo nodded, trying not to cringe
“Aren’t they marvelous!” Dr. Edderkop laughs, playing with the silvery strands they’ve left in her hair. She tugs out a tiny, silk-wrapped orb. “What a sweet gesture.”
Mother and Father often told him never mind Aunt Hagatha. She bears quite the burden. But Ambrose knew the secret she guarded was actually a treasure, a dark blessing.