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Evening Dancer
e31d52
>>236348
>>236308
Even as I turn to attack the scientist I thought dead, his body twitches out of the way, pulled from my assault by an ebony tentacle. And another tears free from his back, pulling him to the ceiling as his robe blackens, and then I realize... it's the man's skin, pulled from beneath the cloak, stretched and mutated until it takes the form of a gristly robe. His eyes vanish into his skull, his mouth agape as blood runs down his cheeks. His hands warp, and as I watch, the skin upon them peeled away, then the muscle, then the bone itself melts into black ooze that reforms into long tendrils that reshape into vile mockeries of hands.
Then, finally, his heart rises from his chest, beating slowly, glistening in the open air.
Something about this stirs a very primal fear within my heart, a sympathetic feeling of loss and pain.
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