She isn’t aware of it until she feels the teeth sink through her forearm and scratch the bone. Blinded by the tears that well in her eyes, she instinctively punches whatever has clamped itself to her arm. Its heavy, bigger than most dogs. It lets out a strange mechanical grumble as she screams in agony. It thrashes and she almost loses balance. As she braces her legs to hold against the weight of it dragging her arm down, her free hand goes to the magnum on her belt. She draws, aims it point blank at her assailant, and squeezes the trigger. She’s showered in a spray of strange, crystal goo. Stumbling back, suddenly free of the grapple, she nurses her shredded arm close to her body. Blood pours freely through the dozens of ragged incisions. The architecture of the arm is wonky. Bones broken on the inside. Gritting her teeth to keep back the scream. She looks up and sees the thing, which has landed several paces away from her. She sees the mouth she has blow apart with the magnum, as well as all the mouths that she didn’t, opening and closing like beached fish under a merciless sun.
Paddy Dobson
1st June 2021