From the womb the creature came, naked and squealing, fording the waters of life-knowing, ill-formed and strange to himself. Blurry sights and sounds echoed all around the small and squirming being, obfuscating the world through their eminence. Words there entailed and them amenable to the creature’s unfurling sensibilities: Miras, Miras, Miras. “My name,” the creature thought, “Such is my name.” Other sensations filtered in thereafter; from the outside.

Cold.

Damp.

Distance.

Presence.

Weight of biomass.

A lingering emptiness.

Alienation subsumed him and he cried out, grasping through the foggy amniotic sludge, stretching his bony, slathered hands to that which hung above, enveloping everything; the ambit of all his world. His caterwauling availess. Great arms there embraced him and a voice, lofty and sonorous spake with tender concern. “Hush and be still, dear Miras. I am here now. Here for you.” Miras smiled and closed his unburnished eyes and rested his malformed and twisted bulk upon the breast of the great being and fell to a slumber that was of a thousand years. When he awoke it were as if the passage of time had skipped him over. She was nowhere to be seen.

Miras unfurled himself from the filthy ground and stretched as light filtered in from a billion radiant spheres. Luminance blinding. Raising one of his small, fleshy protrusions, the creature slithered-flopped across the ground, moving towards the source of the radiance in the far-flung distance. He wanted to know the source of the lights and the wherefore of his cradle’s vanishing. A pain gripped the beast then, shattering the splendor of his idle and rending confusion whole. A horrid pulsation in the pit of the creature’s abdomen. It was hunger. His ill-formed fangs clattered dully with nervous agitation as he scanned the barren, rocky terrain of the cavern surrounding. No sustenance. Only stones and darkness.

I must leave this place. I must devour.

Pace quickened. Within. Without. Shortly, the sanctuary came to an end and Miras, called by his hunger, beheld a great chasm of white, as if a terrible wound in the face of the holo. Light like blood spilling through it, cascading upon and over and through his sensorium – needle piercing his marrowing with understanding and filling him up with wonderment. Descending through the portal, the creature emerged entire unto the plane of light, scall’d by some calamity beyond all reckoning and the air was thick with voice. A hundred thousand million screams. All at odds with the other, jockeying for position as if in the midst of some great competition. Miras dragged himself through the blackened silt of the barren plane, following the voices and beheld a great tower in the distance and it in ruins and upon it’s 99 terraces great creatures with slithering faces and mighty wings perched silently, beholding below them, workers who heaved stone after stone up great dusty ramps to their fellows above them on parapets and they in turn hefted them higher still to those above them. All the men at the bottom were equal to those at the middle and those at the middle to those above them, but all listened to the mighty beasts who sat upon the towers, cawing into the endless and red and boiling sky. Suddenly, one of the workers – young and emaciated – collapsed from the stain of his labors, the heavy stone hefted falling with a dull thud upon the ashen ground before the tower and him likewise following. A hush fell over the crowd and the people made a circle-clear before him. One of the beasts descended and inspected the organism with it’s tendrils and then lifted him up and shook him and then slid the man into it’s enormous maw with a clatter of broken bones. Glass on ice.

Miras, horrified, slithered behind the closest rock, fast as his stunted flippers would carry him as the great beast turned to scan the place where he had been, as if it knew it were being watched by the outside. Then all the slaves threw themselves at the monster’s feet and began to chant in tongues and the beast stretched its wings and ascended to the skies which whorled with sanguine hues. Blood rained and the ground squirmed with small, hissing creatures without eyes, mutilcolored and with jaws distended, who licked up the blood before them with long chaneled tongues and feasted upon the remains.

Despite his horror, Miras swiftly seized his chance for sustenance and dove at the first of the wormy beings. He was surprised how easy he tore them to pieces and how sweet their radiant insides tasted upon his palate. He grew quickly in size and wobbled about the same height as the slaves; he began to eat them too and soon he was nearly big as the slither-faced overlords who perched as yet upon their towers. Watching. Gone were the flabby flippers, replaced by powerful arms and legs and retractable claws; the mushy slurping maw now chiseled and extended, eyes sharpening against the harsh glare of the light which bathed the rutted plain with its sterile effulgence. Being yet unbecome; his hunger lingered still, this of different grade and it burnign in his now fully formed loins. He clamber quickly, bipedal sleek up the first dusty ramp and there took one of the workers and pressed him down and satisfied himself to his cavitives and ate him. The brightness would not abate and though less, still it burned Miras’ eyes and he moved up to the next ramp and continued his work til there were no slaves there either and upon the third a female laborer he took and she pressing her fragile limbs against his mighty frame, cawing, “Eat me not!” And he did not and instead extended his tongue across and within her and tasted her over and then coiled the organism into his own and with his pulsing hardness met her slick holes and filled her with his seed. As they twined upon the ground in feral embrace the beasts flew down from the tower and assailed the tresspasser, for the stones no longer were ferried and all advance had ceased. Strike as he may, Miras could harm them not and shortly, they tore him to pieces and the woman slumped upon the ground, eyes wide and stomach vast and from her womb, a river of blood and a tiny form that sucked the light down from the sky. It stood up on meshy flippers from the rent husk of its mother and gazed about with sorry eyes.

I must leave this place. I must devour.

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