Nanowrimo Bits - 11/27/19 (Patreon)

A snippet from yesterday's Nanowrimo --

William growled, “I’m not done with you yet, Little Red Riding Hood! I’ll tear you to pieces, and devour your very soul!” 

“Dude, give it a rest,” Ashe said dismissively. “You’re outmanned and outgunned. We’ve beat you.”

“You think so?”

Flannery felt her chest go cold as Jacob spoke, his voice strange – echoic and distorted. She turned, her eyes latching onto his face. His expression was terrifying – ravenous and greedy and lustful. His smile stretched his face unnaturally; his mouth had too many teeth. He seemed to grow, to stretch, even as Tristan and Henry held onto him. Smoke began to billow from the corners of his mouth, burning Flannery’s nose when she accidentally breathed some in. 

“J-Jacob?” William called, his voice stuttering in fear. “Jacob, what’s going on?” 

“Do not worry yourself too much, William,” Jacob said, his voice buzzing like wasps inside Flannery’s head. “I am simply going to show these naughty children their place.” 

A shockwave filled the clearing, knocking everyone off their feet and sending them several yards back. Flannery felt her back slam against the old oak, sending her crumpling to the ground as pain radiated through out her body. She struggled to push herself up, her vision blurry. She could just barely make Jacob and William out. William’s form was dwarfed in comparison to Jacob’s tall, spindly form. His arms, legs, and neck stretched unnaturally long, completely out of proportion with his torso. His hair had grown, hanging long and greasy around his shoulders. His smile reminded her of a scarecrow – wide and lacking in any joy. Eyes too blue to be human stared down at her, almost perverse in their greed. 

“Shall we begin with you, Little Red Riding Hood?” he asked, his voice high and reedy, buzzing behind Flannery’s eyes like a blooming headache. “Shall I remake you into your most perfect self? Young, innocent, gullible. So eager to follow orders, no matter who they come from. Yes.” Jacob’s smile took on a wicked, dirty kind of glee. “I shall make you perfect.” 

Greedy, spider-like hands reached towards her, his gait long, but slow. Flannery scrambled to push herself up, leaning heavily against the old oak. She reached deep down, trying to find Little Red, but all she could hear were sobs of fear. No. There was no way she could make Little Red face down a monster like this. 

‘Don’t worry, Little Red,’ Flannery thought, laying a hand over her heart. She could feel the rapid, but steady beat beneath the fabric of her clothing. ‘I’ll protect us.’