Strobing lights blinked red to green on the Arctic SuperDeep Tunnel: incoming. The gathered scientists cheered in relief. The train had set a record two days earlier—15 miles deep—when communications with it had suddenly ceased.
“Just a glitch!” cried one, as champagne popped. Cold air crept from the tunnel at the train’s approach, a rotted breeze that chilled the celebration. Blue flashes flickered, electrical surges that blew out fluorescents and other equipment. The train breached the tunnel, a jagged birth painted with gristle, greased with sparks. And behind it, a pulsing mass of tentacles and bone and screams.
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alt="They Only See Me When I Cry by Alara Rogers"
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alt="The Last Leprechaun by Dakria"
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alt="Sitting on Aine's Cursed Stone by Crystal N. Ramos"
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