summertimeblues: (065)
Richie "Bitch Baby Tears" Tozier ([personal profile] summertimeblues) wrote in [community profile] nysalogs 2018-02-01 06:15 am (UTC)

[They are swallowed in darkness. The absence of light has the bangs and screeches swelling up like helium in a limp balloon, stretching two to three to four times as big. Those gnashing teeth are at his ear, the strikes on the rock outside rattle his bones. Richie, like J.J., is frightened into absolute silence.

Then slowly, the creature follows suit. The black blankets them so strongly that there is no difference between closed and open eyes. Blind, like he'd always feared he'd become, and those pretty plastic lenses he'd dotted to his eyeballs every morning couldn't help him now.

A hand folds around his arm. Richie almost gasps. The short inhale could have doomed them to another round of smash bang boom, but even in shock his mind is so focused on the mantra of stillness that breaking it would have been impossible. A knife to the gut would have passed with little more than a grit of the teeth and his eyes rolling behind the lids.

In response he moves his arm back, but not too far. Doesn't want to brush the jacket against the rock and break the spell. Just enough effort to let the kid know he hasn't been gutted yet.

Still, the beast is quiet. Suspiciously so. Richie stays frozen for a moment longer, pondering. Then he raises the arm in the front. The flashlight has remained poised in his grip. With a slinking predator's care, he nudges the button. Clarity returns.

At the mouth of the cave, the creature is still standing vigil but it makes no move, no splitting shrieks. It is immobile. Then, a full two seconds after Richie has switched on the light, it shifts its head. Its form is revealed more readily now. The head is a smooth and armored affair. Not unlike that thing from the Sigorney Weaver flick, though this shell is a muddied brown. More importantly, it's a largely unbroken one. Its cocking its head to angle a single hole at the side towards them. If there was a matching dot on the opposite side, then those would be the ears.

It's not using its eyes.

Richie holds his breath. He raises his front arm again. The light moves up, up, flashes over the top of their crevice and then angles backwards to illuminate J.J. It's awkward, but it's as prime a position he can get to do an overhand pitch with these narrow walls.

He whips it forward and looses the flashlight. It sails past their assailant and cracks against the wall opposite.

The beast loses its mind with a piercing scream and scuttles to the other side. The racket resumes, but this time it's striking at barren rock walls.]

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