Sunday, 25 January 2009

The Curious Case Of The Missing Alleycats - An Intrigue (Part The Third)

Part The Third - Fear Has A Face

That the figure which descended from the rooftops in front of us was not human could not be doubted. Exactly what manner of beast it might be, however, was nearly impossible to ascertain. It was roughly humanoid in shape but there was no way in which it could be mistaken for human... nor gorilla or any other simian - the amount of limbs, for starters, which numbered more than the usual four that one finds on any of those genii. Also, its rather reptilian appearance and pincer-like claw-style hand appendages marked it out as something... other. The creature gave off the most abominable stench (and this is coming from a man who had recently been doused in various bodily by-products), a stench quite unlike anything I had ever smelled before - if I had been furnished with a solid cooked breakfast instead of an anaemic continental repast, I may have been tempted to surrender it to the pavement.

The apparition's face was nearly impossible to make out - it was as if my eyes could not bear to fully fix themselves upon its fearful visage. There were suggestions here and there - more eyes than were strictly necessary; the impression of sharp, protruding fangs; a gaping hole where traditionally the olfactory organ is located - but these were mere hints. As far as the eye could tell, its countenance was a writhing, shifting mass of deep unpleasantness. I can only speculate as to the monstrous things origins - from what Stygian depths it has arisen, possibly after millennia of slumber.

The one thing I can say for certain about it was the impression I received of great age about the creature. Well, not the only thing I can say about it - it was holding three dead cats in three of its limbs while stuffing a fourth into its monstrous maw. The unpleasant sucking, crunching and chewing noises the abomination made as it feasted upon the former pet were, combined with the smell, almost too much to bear.

The Inspector and I had remained rooted to the spot, fearfully studying the aberration before us. It had so far been fairly oblivious to our presence, content in its feline mastication. The spell was broken by my (in hindsight, somewhat foolhardy) decision to yelp and run away, followed closely by a cursing Edgars and a howling monstrosity. The Inspector and I fled in fear of our very lives...

To Be Elongated


  1. I've had those anaemic continental repasts, and perhaps a main redeeming feature is that they do tend to stay on a downward course, rather than reversing directions in a fit of regurgitory spite. Odd abominable smells notwithstanding.

    "Stygian" is a lovely word. Have you read any of the original 'Conan' series by Robert E. Howard? He had a fondness for adjectives of that nature.

  2. If a cooked breakfast is not attempting to swim it's way to escape, why then it's hardly a breakfast at all...

    No, I haven't read any of the originals, I wouldn't mind giving them a try. I was going for more of an H.P. Lovecraft vibe - I possibly use the word "cyclopean" at some point (always a favourite of his).

  3. Ohh, the plot thickens!

    Also, major points for using the word "genii" - any word that ends in a double i is a credit to the English language. (well, ok, a credit to the Latin language, but you catch my drift).

    Anna xxx