Page 110 of Florescentia

I awoke to the sound of a raucous grinding ailing my ears.

In my dreary comfort, my eyes were forced open. The night sky was still there, though I wasn’t sure if there would be a day in this realm. It might all just be a blank canvas of void that would fill in as I explored.

The indents from the bark pressing into my skin itched. My hair was fully dry, a bit knotted from the lack of detangling while it was wet.

Out in the darkness, it was mostly quiet. Small noises that I couldn’t decipher.

I tugged my petticoat off the branch, crouching low as I fastened it around my waist. I grabbed my corset cover for an extra layer besides the combinations. While my arms and feet were bare, it was more important that I could move than that I was properly dressed.

Something like cracking knees tickled my ear, the sound soft but poignant. At first I thought it might have been branches, a critter out in the brush.

I raked my fingers through the grass for my camera.

As I held the viewfinder to my eye, the colors became bright and thriving. Shifting and moving around the environment as easily as air.

I recognized a couple of black Peculiar forms: the flowers and trees, the fish in the pond, even what seemed like bugs.

Then, a black circle on the ground, out across the pond.

It only drew my eye because it was still. Most things were moving, even the auras. But this stonelike peculiarity was larger and completely unmoving.

Like the anomaly before me, I was still. The only movement was the beat of my heart, shaking my viewfinder with every pulse.

If I put the camera down, would it move?

I lowered the viewfinder from my eye, looking out into the darkness.

There was nothing much to see. Just a faint glow of life in the flora, the artificial sound of tree branches and leaves. Then, the cracking again.

I hesitated to look back through the lens, but did so anyway.

The circle was frozen in a new shape, this time long legs protruding from the mass, folded and curled on top of each other like a dead spider.

I checked again to see if it was visible in the dark. Nothing.

It had changed shape again by the time I looked back through the lens, this time some dots for eyes. Four of them. I was already thinking of spiders; perhaps it knew that and was changing accordingly.

From my bones down to the marrow, every nerve in my body felt chilled.

Peculiars who meant no harm took on delightful forms, nonthreatening and beautiful. Something you didn’t mind being around so they could nibble at your delight when you got that warm feeling of comfort. Even Altair had had consciousness enough to try to appear in the most acceptable form he could, even if it was emotionally manipulative for a positive reception.

Which only meant that the opposite could also be true.

I came back to my mind when I realized my internal distraction had let the thing slip from view, no longer where it had been. Gone.

A hot exhale by my ear.

I was still.

Controlled breaths in and out.

A slow crack behind me, above me. The chattering of teeth, the creaking of joints, the snapping of bone.

Unwillingly, my eyes turned toward the sky.

Within the weepy branches of the tree, the long, hairy legs of a black arachnid hovered, the twin claws at the end of a foot twitching in anticipation.

Then, I saw the face. Four beady white eyes. The figure hung from the silk of its thorax. Almost a hum of satisfaction emanated from the creature, making all its hairs erect.