• Dzama


Marty heard a strange, tuneless whistle coming from outside the garage. He quietly lifted the ax off its hook and went over by the single garage window. The outside world was black and all he saw was his own face reflected in the glass, looking more scared than he expected. He flipped the work-lights off and just then something grabbed his leg.

In the darkness he could barely see the ropey tentacle that ensnared his ankle and dragged him toward the cat door. He swung the ax and hacked at the tentacle. It spurted black blood as it pulled him towards the opening. He finally made it through the sinewy flesh and was left with a short section of tentacle that still squeezed his ankle.

He tried to pry it off with his hands but the skin was too slippery. It went on tightening. Pulling out his lighter he attempted to burn it off like a leech but the wet, greasy skin didn’t seem affected. He limped over to the tool counter and tried various pliers and clippers but all the tools were old and rusty and nothing was cutting through. Now his foot was turning white and he collapsed to the ground, pulling at the slimy tourniquet. Then he noticed a bucket of road salt under the counter. He took a handful and sprinkled the tentacle, which sizzled and melted, releasing his leg.

Metal bucket of salt in hand, he hit the garage door button. The door raised slowly, revealing the writhing form of a huge, tentacle creature looming in the darkness. Mrs. Connely was caught in the mess of tentacles and there appeared to be a few other human body parts.

As the tentacles reached out towards Marty he hurled road salt from the bucket at the monster. It burned and sizzled, the human body parts dropping down to the driveway. Its strange whistling noise became ear-piercing. Just as he’d emptied the bucket, Mrs. Connnely fell out, looking half dead. Marty ran over and lifted her into his arms.

He got to his feet and took off, carrying Mrs. Connely’s limp body. Behind him, the creature sizzled and smoked, gradually regaining its strength. The whistling noise rose in pitch and became louder and louder as he ran frantically, in search of more precious salt

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