Chapter 3: The headless creature

I collapse against the wall, the wind knocked out of me, my skull ringing from the impact. My back slams against the cold, cracked surface, and for a moment, my mind feels like it's floating somewhere far away from my body. I want to scream, but no sound comes out. My lungs refuse to work; the air feels like it's been ripped from my chest. My body feels paralyzed, every muscle locked in place as if some invisible force is holding me down.

But none of that compares to what's happening in front of me.

My kids... my children.

Tommy's lifeless body is crumpled on the floor, his neck twisted at an impossible angle, his eyes wide open but vacant. His face—once full of life, laughter, and joy—is frozen in an expression of pure terror. There's blood. So much blood. It's pooling beneath him, seeping into the cracks of the wooden floorboards, spreading like a dark, sinister shadow. The smell of it hits me—metallic, thick, suffocating. It mixes with the scent of charred wood and the acrid stench of smoke that clings to the ruins of the house.

And Katie... I can't even look at her. I *don't* look at her. My mind refuses to accept what I just saw, what's left of her, after that monster—*that thing*—took her away from me. It feels like a nightmare, one of those horrific dreams where you want to wake up, where you beg to wake up, but the terror keeps pulling you deeper, holding you hostage.

I try to scream again, but nothing comes out. My throat locks, choking on the sobs that claw their way up from deep inside me. My stomach twists, turning over itself, and suddenly I'm heaving, bile rising uncontrollably. I barely have time to turn to the side before I vomit onto the charred floor, my body convulsing with each gut-wrenching spasm. The bitter, acidic taste burns the back of my throat, mixing with the taste of blood, fear, and ash. My legs buckle beneath me, giving way completely, and I fall to my hands and knees, gasping for breath.

*They're gone. They're really gone.*

Tears stream down my face, hot and blinding. I can't stop the tears, can't stop the sobs that shake my entire body. My chest is tight, heaving with broken sobs, my heart pounding against my ribs as if trying to break free. My head throbs, my thoughts spiraling into a chaotic mess of grief, disbelief, and rage. It's too much. All of it. Too much to take in, too much to bear.

"Tommy... Katie..." I whisper through gritted teeth, my voice barely a rasp, a broken, shattered thing. Saying their names feels like driving a dagger straight into my chest, twisting it deeper with each syllable. They're gone. *They're really gone.*

My vision is a blur of tears and destruction. Everything around me is broken, reduced to ruin. The walls of the house are scorched, blackened by fire, cracks running up the surface like veins on decaying flesh. The ceiling hangs precariously, chunks of debris littering the floor. The entire room feels like a war zone—a battlefield—and I'm the last one left standing.

But I can't stand. I can't even move.

I need to get out. I need to move, to run, but my legs feel like jelly, weak and useless. My whole body is screaming at me to move, to get up and *run*, to get out of this nightmare before it gets worse. But how could it get worse? *How could it possibly get worse?*

I push myself up on my hands and knees, gagging on the bitter taste still lingering in my mouth. My hands shake violently, barely able to support my weight, and my head swims, my vision still blurred by tears. I wipe at my face with trembling fingers, trying to clear my vision, but it's no use. The tears keep coming.

My kids are dead. *They're dead.*

Suddenly, the air around me changes. It becomes colder—colder than it should be, colder than it has any right to be in this burning hellscape. I feel it before I see it. A presence. A shadow that creeps across the room, blocking out the red light pouring in through the shattered windows.

At first, I think it's the orcs again. Maybe they've come back to finish me off, to tear me apart just like they did to my children. Maybe that would be better. Maybe it would be a mercy to end this agony.

But when I look up... it's something else.

Something worse.

---

### **The Creature Appears**

I try to make sense of it, but my mind can't process what I'm seeing. It's wrong. Everything about it is wrong. That's the only word my mind can form—*wrong*. This isn't an orc. It isn't human. It isn't anything that should exist.

The creature stands just beyond the reach of the dim light filtering through the broken windows. It's... shifting. Its body seems to move in ways that defy logic, bending and contorting as if it's made of liquid instead of solid matter. There's no head. No face. Just a torso with limbs that twist unnaturally, bending at impossible angles. Its flesh is pale—almost translucent—like it's never seen the sun, or like it's been rotting for centuries.

And there's no sound. No growl, no hiss, no breath. Just silence as it steps closer, its limbs shifting and stretching with each slow, deliberate movement. My heart pounds in my chest, so loud that it echoes in my ears, drowning out everything else. I can't move. I'm frozen, paralyzed by fear, by grief, by the sheer impossibility of what's standing in front of me.

I stumble backward, trying to pull myself to my feet, but my legs won't work. They're numb, useless, like dead weight attached to my body. I manage to push myself up onto my elbows, my back scraping against the rough, broken wall behind me. My breaths come in ragged gasps, my chest heaving with the effort of staying conscious.

The thing approaches, its long, spindly fingers reaching out toward me. The fingers are too thin, too elongated, with joints that bend in the wrong places, twisting and turning like some grotesque parody of a human hand. My heart slams against my ribs, and my mind races, panic taking over every thought.

*I need to run. I have to get out. But there's nowhere to go.*

Tears flood my eyes again, blurring the creature as it looms over me. Its body contorts, twisting and reshaping itself as it moves closer. The way it moves—it's like it doesn't belong in this world. Like it's a nightmare that somehow slipped through the cracks of reality, something that should never have existed.

I try to crawl away, but the room is spinning, my head pounding with every heartbeat. My stomach churns, still roiling from the shock and the grief, and I gag, nearly vomiting again as the bile rises in my throat. But I swallow it down, forcing myself to keep moving. *I have to keep moving.*

"Please..." I mutter through gritted teeth, my voice trembling. "No more... Please..."

But the creature doesn't care. It keeps coming. It's relentless, its spindly fingers now only inches from my face.

---

### **The First Touch**

The moment its fingers touch me, a shockwave of cold shoots through my entire body. It's like being plunged into ice water, but worse—so much worse. The cold seeps into my bones, into my blood, freezing me from the inside out. I try to scream, but my throat closes up, trapping the sound inside. My lungs burn, starved for air, but I can't breathe. I can't *do* anything.

The creature's grip tightens around my leg, those grotesque fingers curling around my ankle with unnatural strength. I can feel its touch, its cold, invasive touch, even through my jeans. It's as if its fingers are *inside* me, burrowing into my flesh, wrapping around my bones.

And then it pulls.

I scream as the room tilts, as my body is yanked off the ground like I weigh nothing. The pain is instant, explosive, radiating from my leg and spreading through my entire body like fire. My bones feel like they're being crushed, ground into dust by the sheer force of its grip. I thrash, kicking at the thing with my free leg, but it doesn't even flinch. My heel connects with its torso, but it's like kicking a wall of solid ice—hard, unyielding, cold.

The creature pulls me closer, its grip tightening until I hear the sickening sound of bone snapping. The pain is indescribable.