The young boy suddenly jolted upright in his bed. He was awoken by a terrifying nightmare, the most recent of many. He tried to remember what happened, but his mind only turned up a few jumbled, faded memories. Something about hotels and insects and stones and masks. And him. He is always there. No matter what he dreams about, that tall thing is always there. Watching. Never affecting the action of his dream, just watching.
Was it watching him now? Of course. When isn't it watching him? When isn't it watching all of us? Tim, the boy, swung round and stood up out of his bed. He walked cautiously over to his cell window, peering through the bars. He looked down at the dark bushes below him, trying to see if he could see anything.
Nothing. Just darkness. And then, in his head, a loud distorted buzzing sound. He quickly spun round to see the tall creature standing behind him next to his bed, and he backed up into a corner, although he knew there was nothing he could do. The distorted noise grew louder and more piercing by the second. The creature's black tendrils extended from its back, flailing around wildly like writhing demons from the depths of hell. They extended towards him, their owner still motionless.
Tim screamed, at least he thought he did. He couldn't hear anything but the distortion. As the tendrils began to envelop him and he succumbed to the creature's attack, as he slid down the wall, his legs too weak to hold him up, two words echoed in his head. The words that were constantly repeating throughout his nightmare.
The Ark.