Last Guardians of the Squishy Death

Daily writing prompt

What’s one small improvement you can make in your life?

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Laden with maps, notebooks, and a satchel threatening to burst, Shiva tripped off the boat, landing in a heap of sand and parchment. The welcoming party was…unwelcoming: pale skin and wide-eyed stares, they seemed more shadows than the last descendant’s of the last survivors of the AI war.

“Aha!” she coughed, already scrambling to her feet. “Found you! Now, about that grimoire… of Bonvovius, yes?  Wonderful. “

The settlers mumbled amongst themselves, wary eyes meeting hers before gesturing towards the encroaching jungle. Shiva nodded, already bounding off. “Excellent! Lost texts and ancient lore await!”

Each clumsy miscalculation devoured precious days. Ancient markers swarmed with hornets;  vines writhed like snakes amidst entrails. The once lively settlement began to fall silent like a tomb. The sickly-sweet scent of decay merely smelled ‘a bit off,’ and those coughing fits? Perhaps a fascinating new strain of COVID-24! “My supplies are getting low,” Shiva mused to herself, “I should see why no one is bringing me dinner anymore.”

Despite repeatedly stumbling over every root on the island, Shiva finally unearthed the hidden library the settlers were guarding. Dashing inside, her eyes locked on the flesh-bound book perched upon the kiosk.  A rhythmic buzzing, like a bank of discarded monitors, hummed deep within her bones. Incredible! She jotted down, blissfully unaware of the creeping darkness staining the ancient bookshelves. With trembling hands, she cracked open the cover and… sneezed.

Alone in the now-deserted settlement, the last islander flickered and died, consumed by the mysterious ailment.

Suddenly, the earth roared with a fury that could split the heavens. The very air crackled with an alien wrongness as the imprisoned form clawed its way free. Its release a blasphemy against creation itself. Its eyes gleamed with a maddening intelligence, the stars behind it flickered and died with each blink. Grotesque organic wires, like discarded paperclips of the past, slick and writhing, stretched towards the intruder. M’KroSF’Tclpy, the name echoed from the depths of memory, was a nightmare made flesh.

Shiva remained oblivious, her nose glued to the dusty parchment, scribbling furiously in her notebook. A slimy tendril brushed her leg – an oddly textured vine, perhaps? So interesting! She made a quick note. M’KroSF’Tclpy loomed closer. Shiva frowned, absorbed in deciphering the ancient language. M’KroSF’Tclpy ‘s power was a monstrous hum at the edge of reality. All Shiva cared about was the next faded word. All M’KroSF’Tclpy cared about was ‘HwCnIHelpUB DevouredToday’.

Shiva’s foot caught on something, and she stumbled, leaving a jagged streak across the user manual. The ground heaved reflexively, and she tripped. “Stupid carpet,” she muttered. A sickening thwomp echoed as her foot squished something unexpectedly yielding and moist. A foul odor, like rotting tuna mixed with burning popcorn, stung her nose. And then… nothing. M’KroSF’Tclpy was no more.

Exiting the temple, Shiva walked back to the shore. Looking down, she noticed a thick, viscous substance on her boot. She scraped it off on a nearby pile of… a body? She frowned. Most unsanitary. She should tell one of the other villagers if she sees them about this. She grabbed some of the discarded fabric to smear the gloop away, climbed back onto her boat, and sailed off into the sunset.

Beneath a moonless sky, the rags covering the dead settler twitched; a single, glassy eye fixated on the retreating vessel.