Random collection of words.
In the gray gloom Eleanor felt the pine needles that covered the forest floor crackle and break under her feet. It wasn’t an entirely unpleasant feeling, but one that seemed alien to her. Actually, it was entirely alien; she almost never took her socks off, especially not outside and very especially not in densely wooded areas. It was probably this completely alien sensation, however, that made the experience exhilarating. An admission that almost made her ashamed to be a city-child.
Eleanor paused mid-step through her rather clumsy stride as the word crossed her mind and came to the conclusion that she didn’t know what it meant. Or what language it was. Or why it crossed her mind at all. She didn’t know many languages, well, she didn’t actually know any aside from English and what little French she could remember (which wasn’t much, if any), but she very definitely didn’t know whatever tongue spawned this word, sound, culmination of various muscles in her mouth moving in synch with vibrating frequencies emitted from her voice-box. It was…alien. Eleanor blinked. And looked around slowly. She then proceeded to look around very quickly and fast knew that the word, whatever the fuck, had been the least particularly alien thing about this forest.
Where was she again?
A stirring in a brush she could barely see or barely recognize as a brush to her right brought her spinning around to face the commotion, her feet tickled, pricked, pickled and tricked by the nettles underneath. The shin length grey shift that she was apparently wearing also spun about, albeit with a slight bit more grace than she could manage at the moment. Blind terror has a habit of putting together some fairly ridiculous and embarrassing situations that Eleanor could appreciate only with mocking laughter.
This was not her reaction when she span about so fast she fell right on her (by popular opinion, however much the personal may disagree) shapely posterior. No, watching the looming shadow that stood out against the already fairly dark background by virtue of just how much light didn’t shine on it slowly rise with many a creak and crackle from the thick brambles that ringed where she sat to tower over her earthy vantage point, Eleanor was contented with trembling violently, whimpering and slowly wetting herself.
The shadow took a step into the little clearing that had become Eleanor’s own for the last couple of seconds and revealed itself to actually be simply an ominous figure which looked vaguely humanoid though was no less menacing for it. With another, barely discernable thud it took another step into the moonlight that flooded the clearing and deigned to show the pitying sight that was Eleanor it’s foot. And what a foot.
It looked human, in as much as it had all the necessary components one would expect from a human foot, though those components would have to be graphically sized to three or four times bigger than what even the largest man’s foot would be to look anything near what this ligament looked. And it would also have to be scarred. Though even in her fairly worried state, Eleanor noticed that they weren’t scars, not ones that wee imposed. They seemed natural to the way this particular foot functioned somehow. They were one with the foot.
With the steps as quiet as a cat’s, the giant carried himself full into open view and revealed a colossal torso that seemed to defy light or logic, or some other essential element that determined that things should have kind of discernable detail to them. However much Eleanor tried to focus (which was hard), though, she couldn’t for the life of her describe the trunk that made up the beings abdomen. Besides that it was big. And scarred. Or, had had scars become one with it.
The giant’s face, which also seemed to have joined the Union of Anti-Detail Grandmothers, lowered itself until Eleanor could somehow make out eyes in the…indiscernible mess. They were some kind of light green or brown that they were almost yellow, and they were cold. Cold and barely caring. For life. Or liberty.
Eleanor started trembling again.
The monster lowered it’s entire body to kneel, it’s raised head still probably higher than if Eleanor had been standing, and pressed it’s face close. Details rushed in hard and fast to describe to Eleanor, with as much relished vivacity as they could, two rows of wide, long sharp and stained teeth along with a black pit that the still sane (yet surprisingly small) part of her mind registered as an eating apparatus of some kind. The teeth came together, then apart, and then together again, sounding some kind of strange, quiet growl.
It was only when Eleanor stopped screaming that she realized it was talking.
‘’Shut up. Good.’’ A gravely yet melodic voice noted with an air of satisfaction. Or hunger. Two giant sounds that sounded like sniffs came from somewhere in between those teeth and those eyes that Eleanor could not stop staring at, and the giant stared right back.
‘’You smell, shan-hui.’’
Lifting itself back to it’s feet, the creature padded back into the underbrush. Eleanor strained her eyes to watch it go, blinked, and saw the creature no more. Bewildered, Eleanor tried to stand. Which, she would always consider in retrospect, was a mistake. She could almost feel the rush of blood that shot up to get a front row seat to the blackout that laid her low.