Oct 15, 2024
Drawtober 15: Nightmare
Sulphur rolls in waves from the thing as it stalks towards the home and sleeping heads that lie within. Hooves that crack with bloody dark and twisted ichor that drips and sizzles as it hits the ground. Its mane twists in the air, catching in a flickering breeze that is the breath of the occupants, reaching far further than by rights a sleeping breath should.
The door is no matter to the nightmare. It slips through like sand, reforms in the corridor, makes its way upstairs and inhales deep enough to make the rotten coal in its belly burn bright.