It was like being shot with a high powered rifle and bled dry by a vacuum that has no off switch.  I looked down at my hand so recently and ineffectually shaken and knew why it felt lifeless.  I had to escape quickly before the rest of me was consumed.

It wasn’t easy because we were thrown together under presumably happy circumstances.  All the party guests were laughing and talking, but I couldn’t hear them.  They were muffled by the pitch of the drone relentlessly seeking its target.  It cast a funereal pall over what otherwise was a joyous occasion, and I wondered if sackcloth and ashes might have been the better fashion choice for the evening.

Was that a dirge I heard in the background?  I wasn’t sure for what or whom it was played, but the dancers began to wail and tear at their hair as the shadow spread further into their ranks, engulfing each one into its tarry black mass.  It oozed beneath my chair and lapped at the spindles before I jumped off, clearing the wave before the barstool sank.

I escaped to another room and locked the door behind me.  It won’t get me here.  It was just a matter of waiting out the destruction and allowing the creature to move on.  But as I heard the screams of the less fortunate subside, I suddenly understood why I felt no relief at its departure.  It would return.  And continue to do so until it had found satisfaction in the obliteration of its enemy.


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