By Kimberly Godwin

This story was originally submitted for Arkham Bazaar’s Lovecraftian Microfiction contest.

This isn’t what I wanted. It was just a party. 

Lost, drifting through a waterless sea

He smiled and his emerald eyes glinted handsomely. I listened to him without hearing, his accent strong, charming, archaic. 

Drowning in tangled miasma.

He tasted strongly of anise, was it Absinthe or some other green liquor? Perhaps, the lights were green? It didn’t matter. None of the background noise mattered. Nothing mattered but folding into him.  

I pray for a merciful death.

Flush with passion the walls melted away. Incense and oily smoke melded into a thick stench that clung to me.

Chanting in strange tongues rose into a din. 

Was I spinning or was the room spinning? I where did I end and where did the floor begin? 

He promised I would be his forever.

Shapes appeared in the smoke, writhing, beckoning… gnashing. 

Cold pleasure, nerves raw, he poured into me. I surrendered to his intensity as he took me beyond my limits to something purer.

My nerves raw as I slipped into the abyss. 

He’s calling from a million mouths in a single voice. How can he be sleeping when his eyes are piercing through me? And his teeth…