Darkness was all that Rose could see. A liquid void was all around her, filling her nose and throat, flooding her lungs. She couldn't breathe, and it tasted of oil and salt water and blood.
Tentacles wrapped around her ankles, wrists, waist, and neck, squeezing tightly, so tightly that bubbles spilled out of her mouth, and Rose couldn't breathe!-
Rose shot upwards from her bed, her chest heaving.
She closed her violet eyes, running a hand through her platinum blonde hair. She took a deep breath in… and released it.
"Perhaps Dave was correct; I do read too much Lovecraft…"
Rose chuckled at herself sardonically.
"Freud would have a field day with me."
She opened her eyes and went through the motions of the morning. She made her bed, sneaked downstairs past her passed-out mother, ate breakfast, sneaked back upstairs to her room, and opened up a random book from her personal library.
This particular book that she picked for that day was titled The Speckled Band, by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. Rose exhaled in relief. Thank god it wasn't one of her numerous Lovecraft stories.
She set herself to read of Mr. Holmes' escapades.
Later that morning, Rose received a message from her distant relative, turntechGodhead, also known as Dave. She responded on her own chathandle, called tentacleTherapist.
TG: yo, rose
TT: Yes, Dave?
TG: what are those things that you talk about all the time called?
TT: The Great Old Ones. Might I ask why?
TG: jade and i thought up a better name for those creepy tentacle fuckers.
Rose raised a brow.
TT: Oh? I suppose you have already incorporated this word into a rap.
TG: you bet, kinswoman of mine. i wrote all of the raps
TG: all
TG: of
TG: them
TT: I also expect that I will be an audience to these raps?
TG: you know it
TG: front row tickets, rose. for free
The Tagalog-Hebrew girl snickered at her cousin's ironic shenanigans.
TT: So cool.
TG: so cool
TT: What name did you and Jade decide upon?
TG: the horrorterrors
TT: Oh?
TG: yeah
TG: because theyre horrible, terrible, and terrifying
TG: and jade says that she has other friends that have
TG: "experience"
TG: with the horrorterrors
TT: Fascinating.
TG: we also don't feel that warm and fuzzy about you calling them great ones
Rose's eyebrows creased.
TT: Why ever not?
TG: look
TG: rose
TG: im just asking you to be careful, as your cousin
TG: as your friend
TG: as your brother
TG: please
Rose sighed.
TT: Very well.
She closed her laptop, then grimaced as she massaged her temples. The whispers of the horrorterrors had permeated her thoughts for months now, ever since her first nightmare. She had tried avoiding sleep altogether, but the dreams held just as much intrigue as they did danger, and Rose never did have a strong survival instinct.
She was drowning in void once again, that night, when something new happened in her dream.
Once she was secured again by the tentacles and her mouth released a silent scream, another tentacle dove into her mouth and down her throat.
Rose gagged, biting the appendage, but the taste of ink was her only reward.
The end of the tentacle shot a substance into Rose's system filling her stomach with it, almost until she overflowed.
When Rose woke up, she ran to the bathroom, threw up the toilet seat, and wretched into the bowl. The vomit smelled of oil, ink, blood, decay, and seawater. When she opened her eyes, the only thing she saw was a grimdark reflection of herself rippling in the unnaturally dark liquid.
Darkness.
The End.