The Blob


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You feel each blade of grass as you creep through the plains of the abyss. Each plant seems to sway independently of the others, regardless of any breeze that should have moved them. The motion stirs old memories of tentacles past, but your naturalist ensures you that the grass is harmless – if perhaps a little itchy.

No and again the husks of buildings loom up suddenly as you walk, appearing as if from nowhere and disappearing again as you pass.

“It’s like walking in fog, without any fog.” Your cohort comments, and you nod your agreement.

Each of the buildings is styled differently, though all are in ruins. The creature you had spotted from the rise has vanished into the landscape. Tracking warped, lab-clean, skeletons of small creatures, and even a giraffe or two, you believe you are getting close.

Someone behind you calls for quiet, and you comply, dropping into a crouch and straining your ears. Soon you hear it too. A smacking, liquid sound, like a milkshake on concrete.

The Blob

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