Kuagili knelt to the blood river’s edge, her knees seated in warm black crystalline mud – a breathing plaque, percolating on transparent flesh. Cities of iridescence – muscular neurons firing off sparkled atop the liquid surface as it undulated – a gelatinous billow of shimmering flow.
She was tired of running. Seven long days and nights of endless escapes, but her hunter was still near; she could feel it’s presence. She needed sustenance. Her tired segments in need of precious xeroquam, the sweetened nectar of the quanxro tree – high in bloodfiber and spormadic quamozines. Her rubbery ligaments were stiffened from the endless journey and would become tenderly brittle without plasmodic moisture.
She extended her ridged back blades and tenderly plucked the mud sacs from betwixt her anterior cleft. They had become a source of tortuous pain. She filled her webbed palm with Blood River surface gel and smoothed it across her arid tongue – a succulent plasma indeed. Being in need of nutrients and liquidity, it was worth the risk. The river’s powerful hallucinogenic properties were the reality, but she had to feed.
She was corroded by fear. It devoured her. The very idea of being eaten alive by a flesh hunter chilled her deepest marrow. Her glands alive with secretions, her thorax plumped to full extension – ready to claw meat from the most vicious of beasts.
Beautiful midnight smoke burst across the horizon. Angular geometries sculpted in vivid tentacles of insanity, sliced light rays woven by tangerine moon. “How beautiful” she thought, “No one from my village had ever seen the Blood River mist…and I too thought it was just a story.”
She remained hypnotic as psychoactive substrates infiltrated her cerebral cortex, flooding her soul in electric visions of fluidity. Xenon particle clouds soared through the blackness, illuminating every cell in her body. Her first intoxication – a stratified matrix – seething…expanding…breathing. Warmth flooded her in emotion whilst tears slowly oozed. Humid thickness lubricated her parched lenses. The pleasure was powerful and resonant, releasing her from eternity.
She had never known such sinful ecstasy and continued forward…her tumid mindscape should never end. She writhed in haunting miasma, slithering across the crystalline shore. She was in need and gently slid into the river, floating as mouthwatering meal for her hunter; now – standing atop a quartz cylinder…peering down upon her glistening vesicle.
She gazed into him as he stood violently, a bloodthirsty hell beast wielding claws of surgical precision. Thickly enameled fangs, serrated and fearful, grew in caliber as purplish lips receded. He exploded to the sky; a winding cyclone of hatred. His body expansive…outstretched to astonishing length as he landed – coiled and contracted. Searing red eyes scorched her with hunger…glaring into the heart of terror.
Her heart convulsed as a jackhammer, almost breaking her meaty ribs. Suddenly…pure darkness. She wondered, “Am I dead? Please, God help me!”
A stream of frigid vapor gushed across her face and soft light drizzled through her scaly eye flaps. A familiar voice nestled her ever so gently,”Kuagili…wake up my dear…it’s your father.”
She opened her eyes…relieved from the weight of a thousand suns. Her father picked her up by the dorsal nodule and cradled her softly in his secure grasp, “You were having a nightmare my sweet Kuagili Wuahili…poor thing. Did you dream of the Blood River Flesh Hunter?”
Though trembling in fear, she began to settle in daddy’s arms. “Yes father…I did. The tangerine moon…and Blood River mist was even more spectacular than I could have possibly imagined.”
He smiled, holding her tightly, “My little girl is growing up! Soon we can go there together. We shall drink xeroquam from mother’s chalice. She would be so proud of you my love.”
Kuagili fell into deep slumber, with a wondrous smile on her lips…safe at last.
The wicked beast picture is from The Haunted Mansion.