Spirals

gunshot

My breath caught in my throat. I looked down the hallway, watching for a moment, eyeing the shadows against the black walls before I peeked beyond the corner. There, in the middle of a vast, moonlit factory room, stood the being, silent, its formless face stilled in my exact direction.

Why, hello, it said. Do you remember me today?

I was taken off-guard from the question, confused, but I answered:

"I remember you."

Good.

It has been a while since you have been brought before me. I did not expect you, and I wonder now what you have come for. Answers, perhaps?

I hid the gun behind me and stepped across the threshold, standing some distance from the being and facing it. The being made a deep sound in its throat, and the door behind me shut firmly.

Ah, traveler, you have changed. You are bold. And yet, you have given me permission to move you, to touch you, to change your very soul, even. If I wanted, I could kill you where you stand. You realize this, correct?

I said nothing. Anything that left my mouth could be leveraged against me; anything that left my mouth could be used to shut it permanently. I needed to be very careful.

Silent. The being tilted its head, stretching its form slowly, and, in an instant, it stood inches away from my face, bending over slightly and facing my wounded arm. I wonder... have you put my gift to use, traveler? I sense a piece of me within you. I know you have accepted it.

I backed away from the being, stuffing the gun I hid into my back pocket, thinking over what to say, or whether I should speak at all. The being watched me curiously, and I had a feeling then that it was toying with me, or that it at least had no immediate intent to harm me unless I provoked it. I needed to distract it, I needed it to turn its head just for a moment, and so I decided to play along.

"I have opened your gift," I said.

Oh? The being chuckled. How sweet. What does it bring you?

"I do not want it anymore," I said carefully.

The being did not move.

I understand your hesitation. My gift to you is powerful, and it is foreign to your bones. You can let it get used to your flesh, or I can, ah, adjust it here for you. But I cannot take it back. It is its own existence now. It feels at home within you.

I thought over my next words and said, "How many other... gifts... do you have?"

The being perked up, and I watched its head, waiting for it to turn. An interesting question from you, traveler. I have but one more, but I do not yet want to give it to you. It is simply ornamental, yet in your current state, I would not be able to smolder the pain that will come like I did with your last gift.

It paused, crossing its shifting hands, tapping the fingers against each other impatiently. I could feel it growing restless, and soon it would want to finish its toying.

I wonder now, why do you ask?

Be honest now.

I needed its head to turn. I needed its head to turn so that I could kill it, because it was exponentially slower with its back turned to its victim, but I could not tell it that, and I could not lie about my intentions or it would know and I could lose my chance to kill it. So I looked the being in its solid face and settled warily for a half-truth.

"Just curious."

Mm. The being lifted its head, letting the sentence hang in the air, and its voice grew monotone:

Your words are craftily placed. You entertain me, traveler. I have been alone for a while, as every realm is entering isolation. I myself cannot travel.

The being twitched slightly, and the atmosphere grew thick with a foreign yet familiar sort of hunger.

You are lucky I have been dormant, however, as I have had nothing to satisfy me, and little to eat.

Tell me, have you eaten?

I said nothing. I knew what it meant.

The being stretched its vague figure and made a clicking noise.

Silent again. Your secrets intrigue me.

I am hungry now, and you are mine. I will give you food and then I will eat.

I backed away, expecting the being to approach me, but it did not. Instead, it shook its arms and walked towards the back of the room, where opened crates and large wooden pallets resided.

Its head was turned. Its back was turned to me.

I whipped the gun out of my pocket and held my breath, aiming quickly for the back of the being's head, and took the shot.

The bang echoed throughout the vast factory room, riding along the seconds, lasting for an uncomfortable amount of time. The silence that followed was dreadful.

I was surprised that I did not miss, because I was hardly a good shot.

I did not miss; however, I did not kill it.