Curse of the Alligator: ACT 1

Over in the Northeast of Texas, We're going to see Showers.

Feed, feed, feed, feed, feed, feed, feed, feed, feed, feed, feed, feed, feed, feed, feed, wake, feed, feed, feed, feed, feed, feed, feed, feed, up, feed, feed, feed, feed, feed, feed, feed, feed, feed, Pearl, feed, feed, feed, feed, feed, feed, feed, feed, feed, feed, feed, feed, feed, feed, feed, stop.

This existence is hell. I'm a witness sentenced to live this cruel fate. My thoughts, memory, and words are disconnected from this body. My regular life is an inaccessible dream hovering in the ether. I am a bitch to my urges with only one goal: eating.
Each following image in my domain is shorter and shorter, like watching TikTok for 8 hours. I catch my reflection in the pond. My skin is dry, green, and embedded with bones. I whip my long tail and gnash my sharp teeth. There isn't enough brain matter for new thoughts, only instinct. I dive into the pond and tilt my nose above the surface. I can see underneath the murk.

The whole county prayed for rain; it stormed last night by magic. Candle is calling it a blessing, but I knew rain was bound to pour after every false cloud in July. Plenty of creatures will seek shelter in the brooks of swamp water. The current that overflows from the pond will take me to the fish hatchery. The delicious skulls are always the best bet for reaching my full belly.

The safest route to the hatchery is the Navarro waste treatment plant, where I have cultivated fish eggs to spawn in a section of the sewer. The system connects most bodies of water in the county – storm drains, maintenance sewers, and ponds. I can lurk without being seen; it is my labyrinth. Waterways with tight concrete walls construct canals where moss grows between the brick. Broken pipes above leak sewage from unknown sources. The algae colors the feces in a green tint. I tell all the newbies, please, please remember to wear goggles if you're working a shift here.

I surf the east side of Candle and crawl onto the walkway that services the sewer. Dim overhead lights allow me to slither between shadows. So many doors into halls rarely open, but if a shift worker is behind one, I wouldn't want to hurt them. The pipe grates are easy alternatives between locations. Last year I bent the bars on the grate with the force of my jaw, allowing space to squeeze through. City employees tend to avoid mending anything, honoring the moral that is, why do something when you ain't getting paid? The county has been bleeding money since 2012; No higher-up is pushing to fix anything beyond using duct tape.

Odd, I do not taste blood. I have checked this area for upkeep; I'm super tidy regarding my space. I fed the fish last week and ensured there was plenty to enjoy. This sewer incubator is more of a bedroom for the monster, a place to kick back and forget our worries. At this point in my journey, I usually hear all the bluegill.

A trickling waterfall slants into the spawn. I take the slide and crash onto bare concrete under two inches of stagnating water. My consciousness is along for the ride as this monster flops in confusion—a hard landing without the safety splash. Did the city drain the sewer because they thought the rain would flood? The mystery I care less about, but I need to eat my fish. Whoever emptied it lost my fish! Luck be with anyone inside my labyrinth. I hurt everything in my path. Any creature in my way will get snapped, especially whoever is responsible.

I can visualize an image that overrides the beast and points him in the right direction. Suppose I can make it to the sewer's north side where a section should still be dammed. Without water, I can't swim. On each wall of the hatchery, I have posted a map of the layout for the sewer. The map shows the locations of utilities like electricity, water lines, and shutoff junctions. It'll be quickest to go through the hallways, the beast listens. I'm trusting there are no workers on duty today. If only the monster would let me drink a beer and watch movies without getting into trouble. He and I are synced at moments, but he's never given me complete control. 

The monster finds a walkway and knocks down a door. The heavy door is blown through and barely hanging by a screw. I should hurry before any more drains are opened. Traversing the halls could endanger innocent life, but still, a best-case scenario is if I scare them out of there before my fish wash into the street. I roam carefully to avoid alerting anyone. I reach the point I was searching for, the last shutoff; I make a big splash. Finally, the remaining water is found here on the north side. The fish numbers swim away once they see my ugly mug. I should eat my dwindling crop before there is no way to save them.