’Twas just a pinhole at first. A blind spot fixed within my vision as headaches pulsed, ravaged. Doctors weren’t concerned, though it grew each day. Stretched open by something within. Millimetre, then centimetre, first like pupils dilate, then like a cervix with all the blinding pain of childbirth, but none of the reward.
The void released a wriggly floater that ricocheted within the confines of my oculus. Through that bulbous, bloodshot eye, I saw the creature’s tentacles expand, replacing my vision with nightmares.
Zothar unfurled out of my deflated eyeball. Covered in vitreous. Bathed in my tears, claiming my soul.
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alt="Harbinger of Death by Jonathan L. Tolstedt"
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sizes="(min-width: 1200px) 550px, (min-width: 750px) calc((100vw - 130px) / 2), calc((100vw - 50px) / 2)"
alt="Famine Man by Deborah Tapper"
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sizes="(min-width: 1200px) 550px, (min-width: 750px) calc((100vw - 130px) / 2), calc((100vw - 50px) / 2)"
alt="The Price of Belief by Andreas Flögel"
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sizes="(min-width: 1200px) 550px, (min-width: 750px) calc((100vw - 130px) / 2), calc((100vw - 50px) / 2)"
alt="The Abhartach's Thirst by Andrew Kurtz"
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>