The moment frozen, invites description of the catacombs...

Think of a frame frozen on the screen, courtesy of a broken reel. It is shuddering, flickering, but the details leap out at you in your darkened room.

From your vantage point, the vast chamber resembles the inside of a ribcage. It arches above, white as bone, and curls down the sides to separate into dark openings that lead to realms beyond your extent. 

Towards the end of the chamber, where the throat might be if it were a giant skeleton, a golden light ensues. You try to go near it, but as much as you might try, it recedes ever into the distance, and you must be satisfied to gaze upon it's beautiful light from where you are.

The floor is in fact softly contoured, its planar illusion owing itself to the largeness of the chamber. The staircase upon which the figure descended in the weak light of his torch might as well be the curled inward progression of a tail bone. 

The more you survey the scene, the more you are convinced our protagonist locked in combat within the ribcage of a paleolithic fallen giant.

He is reeling backwards on bent knees, a hand outstretched, filled with a handgun whose model is indefinite, a detail that doesn't lend itself to the eye.

The muzzle flash brightens the scene, which is already bright, almost blinding. Its light adorns the contours of the creature with incandescent armor, and escalates the values of its face which makes it look like a photograph that has been taken too close with the flash on. The bullet, leading a tracer of powder and smoke, is inert between the two.

But you still can see the spittle that arches above the man, leaping from a point almost three meters high. The beast's wings nearly encloses the man, swathed in eddies of phosphorescent blue mist. His fedora is nearly flung off his head. The battered satchel floats free from his body, but is still connected by its long strap.

The expression that sculpts the man's face is the sort you would find on those self-absorbed in their torturous run in the park or one finding themselves in a foul public restroom. It is a mixture of distaste, exhaustion, and a dash of horror. 

Away, away you go, the scene receding panoramic, then the frame jostles to life, blurring then flickering, the play of story returning. 

The End

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