Abandoned

December 4th, 2023

Slinwey the four-armed insectoid humanoid. Glowing green eyes. She isn’t recognizable as human, but as a monster. Slinwey rises from the embers of a burning log cabin on the seaside. The Sun wanes in the sky, Crismon light beams down its hateful rays. The dark waves lap up the debris of charcoal and ash. Slinwey pulls herself free of the smoldering wreckage.

Slinwey examines her surroundings. The beach, once lined with Summer Homes, now lies desolate. Despite the glaring Sun, it’s dark-red hue is wanting in illumination. The world is akin to sunset from the low-light levels.

And yet, she is not alone. She spots dessicated figures drenched and dripping, wreathed in kelp and seaweed. There are three of them. Humanoid in shape and size. Two arms. Two legs. One head. Bipedal. Are they human? If they were human, perhaps they could be described as female. Though it’s quite difficult to tell. Slinwey glowers at the three figures that can be loosely described as women.

Slinwey claps her mandibles in frustration. “Succubi. Disgusting vermin.” Slinwey recognizes them as pests, but she knows they are not the root of the problem. They are merely a symptom of the corruption and filth that has overcome Fairyland. Like rats or ants in the home, they are attracted to filth, not the cause of it. Of course, now that the infestation has taken hold, they must be rooted out and destroyed or banished. But such actions are futile as long as filth remains to draw others to take their place. For this reason, Slinwey almost lets them live, as killing them accomplishes nothing.

“Hey there, gorgeous.” The choked rasps of a succubus hisses to Slinwey, “You wouldn’t happen to know where Yes ran off to, and when he might be back, would you?” Slinwey scowls at the succubi. Radio static emanates from the insectoid. The signal wavers between chatter and static as though dialing between channels. Finally, the radio signal becomes clear with only minimal background noise. Slinwey speaks. Her voice is not her own. It is the clips of voices from others stitched together. “You’ve sealed your fate.” Slinwey evokes in a manner similar to speech, “Join the ashes. Burn for your sins.”

The succubi glance at eachother–large black bulbous lumps of mucus for eyes, and shrug their shoulders. “I guess she hasn’t seen Yes.” one succubus says to another. Slinwey marches steadily towards the seaweed-covered female humanoids with waves slapping their ankles. She reaches out with each of her four arms. Shimmering mist coalesces in each of her pincer-like claws. With a “pop”, the black blades of serrated chitin fizzle into form, glistening with condensation. Slinwey’s eyes change from green to red. The succubi freeze, going stiff, muscles tense. “Woah, woah! Let’s be civil.” one of the Succubi stammers. The succubi back away from the approaching insectoid. The succubi are soon up to their ankles in water with waves splashing up their calves.

The blades whistle in the swing of Sliwney’s arms. The kelp-covered grotesque woman collapses into a bundle of flesh-coated bones strung with muscles and sinew. The entity fizzes with steam bubbling up from the mucus membrane. The two others give up hope for diplomacy. They turn and run, leaping deeper into the water. Slinwey’s red-eyed visage blurs, then she disappears entirely. Her image stutters into place in front of the fleeing succubi. They scatter to the sides. Slinwey’s image solidifies and she fully reappears. She cuts through the viscous inky liquid tainted red by Crimson sunlight. She catches a succubus by the back of its neck. Her blades sink deep into its shoulders. This succubus, as well, falls lifeless and loses structural integrity and shape, becoming little more than a bundle of bones loosely held together by muscles.

The last succubus kicks frantically, punching strokes in the water. Slinwey gives chase. She whips through the sludge. However, as she closes into the vaguely woman-like creature, the thick reddish-black liquid of the ocean begins to stick to Slinwey like adhesive.  Slinwey struggles to keep herself afloat. Forward movement becomes impossible. She would surely sink if the liquid wasn’t so dense. The succubus struggles with the same difficulties. Slinwey reneges on her plan to kill the succubus. Her eyes fade from red to green. The environment is rapidly succumbing to corruption. She curses her temper. She let herself enter a dangerous situation. If she were anyone else, this grave mistake would be fatal. Indeed, as she concentrates on her surroundings, analyzing her environment. She can hear the succubus sink beneath the viscous waves. Thick sludge tires them out too fast to swim in.

Worlds of envy. They’re someone else’s problem now. Slinwey’s eyes flicker between green and light-blue. She recalls herself to where she stood on the shore a mere minute before. She appears on the sand, blinking out of the ocean. Eyes settling on light-blue. The ooze-like ocean seeps up the beach, consuming the bundles of bones and flesh that remains of the succubi. Slinwey frowns at the sea… or rather, she tries to frown. She lacks the facial muscles to do so. She despises her static expression. She doesn’t subscribe to the idea of pheromonal replacement for facial expressions. Her anttennae can’t help but detect pheromones and other chemicals, such as the acrid sulfur in the smokey air.

“I have to get out of here.” Slinwey says. Who is she talking to? As if in response, Sinwey says, “I’m talking to you, Yes. I know you can hear me. Get me out of here” Slinwey stands her ground as the black sea crawls up the sand one wave at a time. Slinwey can outrun the ocean. It’s not very fast. There are no obstacles blocking her escape. The wooden cabins have long-since burned to the ground. Paved walkways lead from the ruined cabins to the parking lot up the hill.

Slinwey stares down the ocean. “You’re watching.” She says, “I can feel it. Returned to the scene of the crime? Perhaps to make amends for abandoning us to the corruption?” Slinwey doesn’t see anyone. The only sound is the crackling of embers and crash of syrup-like waves. The only creatures that register on her antennae are the faint scents of the three succubi consumed by the ocean. “What do you hope to accomplish by coming back here?” Slinwey asks, “Does our suffering amuse you? I demand you take me from this place at once!” Slinwey doesn’t have much time before the ocean will reach her and drag her beneath, drowning her. She’ll have to flee up the hill to the parking lot if she is to survive.

Slinwey stares blankly in an effort to roll her immobile, light-blue, unblinking, compact, insect eyes. The sarcasm in the expression fails to appear given her inability to roll her eyes. “I’m just gonna stand here and let the waves take me” Slinwey threatens, “Is that what you want? Who will you watch suffer and struggle through affliction and trial if everyone’s dead?” Slinwey stubbornly threatens her own life. Inky tendrils stretch from the waters and grasp her chitinous legs.

“So you’re gonna let me die?” Slinwey asks, “You’re so set on ignoring me that you would condemn yourself to eternal isolation, killing your only companions?” Slinwey’s lunatic ravings encourage the dark waters, which splash against her ankles. The last source of the light, the embers under her feet, are extinguished. Everything goes black. The crimson Sun provides no illumination except for itself. Slinwey can see the Sun in the sky but nothing else.

“Are you doing this on-purpose?” Slinwey asks, “You really want me to leave without acknowledging me as  a person?” Slinwey isn’t insane. Thus, this behavior of talking to no one is rather uncharacteristic for her. The sludge rises to her knees with waves slapping up to her waist and tendrils rising to wrap around her wrists. She is out of time. If only she had fled sooner, she would have survived.

“So that’s how it is, huh?” Slinwey says, monotone, emotionless, “Fairyland is your responsibility. But if your intent on ignoring us, then you make me your enemy.” Slinwey bobs up and down in the waters. The inky molasses rises above her waist. Waves crash over her head. Tendrils tighten around all her carapace to drag her below. “You’ll either return to Fairyland,” Slinwey threatens, eyes flickering between light-blue and red, “or I’ll have you replaced with someone less negli-” Slinwey’s words are cut off by the waves crashing above her head. Restrained under the water, air bubbles streaming from her mandibles as she foolishly exhales, emptying her lungs of life-preserving oxygen. Slinwey’s eyes stop flickering between light-blue and red, fading to black. The light gone from her face. She doesn’t struggle.

On the shore, the corruption spreads. The tides rise above the burnt cabins. Smoke takes on a sickly green glow. “Yes, this isn’t over.” Slinwey says, “I’m still here and I don’t plan on leaving.” The crimson Sun, whose light provides no illumination is smothered by storm clouds. The parking lot pavement beings to crack. Black lines spiderweb across the ground. Thunder rumbles the sky. A terrible storm. Where can it all go? Who will save us now? “I’m not dead. I’m ready to pick up the slack if you’re ready to end the silent treatment.” Slinwey says, “There is no adventure without a hero. Are you going to bend and talk to me? Or are you going to be stubborn and break?”