All Hail the Shifter King
Title: Bad Thoughts
Word Count: 260
The smoke was so thick she could barely see when she staggered from the lab into the narrow hallway, her light jacket pressed to her face to try and filter the choking stench. Eyes watering, throat burning, she made her way slowly with one hand on the wall, fighting the urge to vomit at the stench of burnt electronics and the underlying burnt fragrance of human flesh.
Try as she might to avoid thinking of anything but her immediate survival, the image of Devon’s deformed face kept filling her thoughts, every bit of his mauled and mutilated body spelled out in horrific detail in her mind. She found herself wondering what his last moments were like, the bewilderment as the emergency locks gave way in automatic response to the fire alarms, the horror as the creatures poured into the room after him, the agony as they shredded into his body. And the worst part of all, the fact that when she’d found him he’d still been somewhat conscious, still breathing, albeit through the pooling of blood in his lungs and the shards of bone laced through his broken body, but he’d been alive enough to recognize her, to cry for help, for her to save him, and -
She swore she could feel a flip switch in her head, erasing Devon’s desperate face and his gurgling cries, and she felt her body lurch into a faster pace down the hallway. Enough about Devon, some survival-focused part of her brain demanded. Devon’s dead. You’re still alive. Let’s keep it that way.
Word Count: 260
The smoke was so thick she could barely see when she staggered from the lab into the narrow hallway, her light jacket pressed to her face to try and filter the choking stench. Eyes watering, throat burning, she made her way slowly with one hand on the wall, fighting the urge to vomit at the stench of burnt electronics and the underlying burnt fragrance of human flesh.
Try as she might to avoid thinking of anything but her immediate survival, the image of Devon’s deformed face kept filling her thoughts, every bit of his mauled and mutilated body spelled out in horrific detail in her mind. She found herself wondering what his last moments were like, the bewilderment as the emergency locks gave way in automatic response to the fire alarms, the horror as the creatures poured into the room after him, the agony as they shredded into his body. And the worst part of all, the fact that when she’d found him he’d still been somewhat conscious, still breathing, albeit through the pooling of blood in his lungs and the shards of bone laced through his broken body, but he’d been alive enough to recognize her, to cry for help, for her to save him, and -
She swore she could feel a flip switch in her head, erasing Devon’s desperate face and his gurgling cries, and she felt her body lurch into a faster pace down the hallway. Enough about Devon, some survival-focused part of her brain demanded. Devon’s dead. You’re still alive. Let’s keep it that way.