MonstrousMay 5. The Tentacle Beast

Lola had been wearing the sling for too long. Her co-workers had started to say things like, "Poor thing. It's still not healed?" and "That must've been some hell of a fall!" She would politely thank them for their concern, gently patting the arm wrapped tight in white bandages. Lola would instinctively pull away. They would apologize. It would happen again. Seeing it without the bandages made her ill, so it only ever saw the yellowed light of her bathroom.

It had been a hell of a fall. And an excruciating one at that. But how could she tell anyone what had really happened? She thought back to that night often. If she hadn't been drunk and stupid. If she didn't feel the need to investigate the crater, to prove she wasn't scared by jumping down into it.

Every day seemed to be getting longer. Her arm itched and squirmed, sometimes causing her to freeze on the spot and grit her teeth until it passed. She especially hated when it happened on the street. It seemed people were only kind when you didn't need them to be. When the sun was high and others were around. "Can I call someone?" "Do you have medication?" 

The painful truth was the more she thought about it, the more it happened. And she couldn't be sure, but the feeling was moving up her arm, nearly to her shoulder now. When she thought of going to the doctor, it seemed to respond hatefully. Maybe because it knew they would immediately try to cut it off. Or maybe it just didn't want to be found out.

It was a little late and she had stopped at the bar on the way home. Liquor seemed to ease the pain, but it took very little for her to feel swimmy-headed. The thing in her body seemed to like it, so she had been stopping more and more lately. She had practically become a regular, which she didn't love. But she couldn't just hurt 24/7.

Lola stumbled slightly as she walked home. Not enough money for a cab. Maybe best to work off some of the drunk before going to bed anyway. The hangover would suck, but then she could just drink a little more in the morning. She was pulled from her thoughts as someone yanked her purse out from her arm. She gripped it. "Please don't," she said. They tugged it back and forth a few times.

Her assailant ripped her bag away. With the other hand, he flashed a switchblade that slid out and gleamed in the streetlights. "What are you gonna do about it?" he asked. She knew the answer to the question, and it made her sick to her stomach.

The bandages on her arm cried out, and so did she, as her arm gurgled and ripped itself free. The flesh and bone stripped apart into tendrils and spread out, basking in the fresh air. A clicking trill emanated from somewhere near her armpit. The man turned to run, but one of her tentacles wrapped around his throat. Lola forced him down into a nearby alley.

"Stop it! Stop it!" she seethed, but her many new limbs acted on their own volition. The man kicked and tried to scream as they drug him up the brick wall. One of the tentacles forced itself into his mouth. She could taste the fear and bile that rose up in his throat that was cinched shut and stuffed full. "Okay, he's had enough," Lola pleaded. The man's thrashing became more desperate.

A kick landed in Lola's stomach. Dread filled her, knowing that would only make matters worse for him. She gagged as the tentacles retaliated, squeezing him so tightly the bones of his neck cracked. They continued to wind tighter until his head nearly came off. After an endless couple of seconds, his arms went slack and he dangled lifelessly in the air.

With a wet slurp, the tentacles dropped him, then twisted about one another into the approximate shape of her arm. While she nervously looked about to see if anyone had witnessed what happened, she thought of the others. The way their bodies began to pile up in her mind. She was struck with a particularly strong sadness. It would happen again.