her empty mind could have possibly conceived.
The beast cannot possibly be of this world, she knows at once. It might be called a canine, as it pursues her on four long limbs bent at unnatural angles and is possessed of a slavering snout full of massive, serrated teeth. It has no fur, however, only a bloated black body that is sloughing off putrid, dark colored slime as it moves through the brush.
When it sees the woman looking, it laughs at her.
This is the end her life, she knows then. Whatever might have come before she awoke in
Just Another Struggling Writer 
2 thoughts on “The Ballad of Mercy May; 0008”