Micro fiction


1 minute read

In my dream, the three men in high heels enter the catwalk side by side. They’re terrified but try to pretend otherwise, their faces a neutral expression that makes them look like plastic mannequins.

On each side, the monsters awake at the sight of them. They are of all shapes and sizes, pus and bile dripping out of their greasy pores. They cheer at the jiggle of their bodies, reaching out desperately with their claws and tentacles as they walk past.

The catwalk grows narrower as they advance, fueling the frenzy of the maggots. The first man is hit with acid, loses his balance and falls off the stage. Screaming with his lungs exposed, he is quickly devoured by a giant centipede. The others carry on, trying to balance themselves on the platform.

The shiny floor soon becomes too small to fit the two men; they hold on to each other as the spitting and hissing grows around them, louder with each hesitant step.

The monsters close in, tugging at their ankles. They know it will all be over soon.

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