A sharp, sulfurous stench clung to the air, heavy and rotten, like eggs left to rot in the sun for weeks. She tugged her hood tighter around her curls as she stepped deeper into the park. The usual hum of traffic and late-night city life seemed distant here, muffled by trees and an eerie stillness.
She’d heard the rumors. Everyone had. Weird eggs showing up in parks, clustered like nests. Empty, cracked, unexplained. Officials said to leave them alone, but no one ever said why.
Howick's boots whispered over the grass as she slipped through the shadows. That’s when she saw them—a loose clutch of pale, cracked eggs nestled in the grass. Their shells gleamed faintly under the lamplight, slick and unnatural.
“Yeah… no way that’s normal,” she muttered.
A sound sliced through the quiet.
A low, guttural cluck. Wet and raspy. Wrong.
Howick’s eyes snapped to the tree line. Something huge shifted in the dark. Scraping. Dragging. And then… glowing red eyes blinked into view.
The thing that emerged defied logic. It walked on long, stilt-like legs ending in curved, talon-like claws that rooted into the grass like anchors. Oily black feathers cloaked its body, trailing along the ground. Its proportions were all wrong, twisted and mangled, more nightmare than bird.
It locked eyes with her.
“Okay,” Howick whispered, flexing her hands into ready fists. “Definitely not a regular chicken.”
The creature let out a shriek—a garbled, bone-deep cluck-scream—and lunged.
Howick dodged left, narrowly avoiding the swipe of razor talons. The smell of sulfur thickened as the creature circled back, dragging its cloak of feathers behind it. It lunged again. She ducked, rolled, boots skimming over the damp grass. Her heart pounded, but her stance stayed steady.
She wasn’t going to overpower this thing. And clearly, it wasn’t here for a chat.
The eggs. It was protecting the eggs.
Or… something worse.
Another shriek, and the creature charged. Howick sidestepped again, grabbing a heavy branch from the ground as she moved. She didn’t waste time—one hard swing connected with the eggs, crushing the fragile shells underfoot.
The creature froze mid-lunge.
For a heartbeat, the air grew still. Then, with a final, earsplitting wail, the monstrous bird’s body shuddered—and burst into a plume of foul, sulfurous smoke. The scent curled around her like ash, burning in her lungs, and when it cleared…
The eggs were smashed. The grass was torn. The creature was gone.
Howick coughed once, waving the smoke away as she straightened.
“Nightmare poultry,” she muttered, brushing feathers from her sleeve. “That’s going on the weirdest thing I’ve seen list.”
She cast one last look at the crushed nest, the empty clearing, and exhaled.
“Definitely going to need a shower after this.”
And with that, she turned and slipped back into the shadows of the city.
Posted: Sat Jul 05, 2025 9:34 pm
(S) When the fire Works
Quote:
Destiny City could be loud.
Even at night, the hum of traffic, the neon buzz of signs, the occasional siren cutting through the quiet—it all added up to a constant, low roar of life. Most of the time, Howick didn’t mind it. The noise made the city feel alive, connected, like the whole place was one big, breathing thing.
But tonight? She wanted quiet.
That was how she found herself slipping through one of the smaller parks near the riverfront, drawn in by the faint, colorful glow of a campfire burning at the far end of the green.
It wasn’t just any fire.
Bright, shimmering rings danced along the logs, glowing like sparklers without the harsh crackle of real fireworks. Soft greens and blues pulsed around the edges, while deeper reds and golds flared toward the center. Occasionally, tiny bursts of color popped from the logs, rising like gentle, glowing fireflies before fading into the night.
The air smelled faintly of cedar and something almost… sweet. Earthy. Comforting.
Howick slowed her steps, hands tucked into her jacket pockets, watching the fire quietly from the edge of the path. The company that made these had been all over the news lately—some new eco-friendly, chemically-enhanced logs guaranteed to burn clean, long, and beautiful.
“Guess they weren’t kidding,” she muttered softly.
A couple sat near the fire, bundled under a blanket, whispering to each other with the quiet, easy fondness that made Howick smile faintly to herself. Further off, a family toasted marshmallows, the kids laughing softly as their marshmallows caught fire and their parents scrambled to help.
It wasn’t loud. It wasn’t wild. But it was…
Nice.
For once, no nightmare creatures lurking in the shadows. No sulfur-smelling monsters. No high-stakes patrols or frantic transformations. Just the warmth of the fire, the slow, colorful crackle of light, and that strange, nostalgic feeling curling in her chest.
She drifted toward an empty bench near the fire and sank onto it, resting her chin in her hand. The flickering glow painted soft highlights across her skin, catching faintly in the silvery edges of her hourglass pendant where it peeked out from beneath her jacket.
“Could almost forget the world’s a mess,” she whispered.
And for a little while, she let herself.
The fire popped, sending a tiny burst of blue and gold spiraling upward. Somewhere behind her, someone laughed softly. The smell of roasted marshmallows drifted on the breeze.
Howick was walking along the edge of Destiny City’s west reservoir, just following the quiet curve of the water. It was one of the few places in the city that didn’t constantly buzz. She liked coming out here sometimes—no alarms, no monsters, no crumbling rooftops. Just wind, water, and maybe the occasional frog.
But peace never lasted long.
She heard the slap before she saw it. A wet, sticky sound. Then another. Then—movement. Dozens of small, dark shapes dragging themselves over the concrete edge of the reservoir, pulling themselves up from the water like little sea horrors.
And then she saw one clearly.
“Is that... a starfish?” she whispered, frozen in place.
It didn’t look like the kind you’d see in a tidepool. This one was vibrant red-orange, oversized, and fast—too fast. It squirmed forward, latched onto a bird feather stuck in the mud, then launched itself at her like a suction-cup frisbee.
“What the—!”
It slapped against her thigh and bit her.
She screamed and staggered back, hand flying to the thing clinging to her leg. The skin beneath it burned and itched all at once. The slime was thick, greenish, and hot against her skin.
“Absolutely not,” she snapped, grabbing a stick from the side of the path and jabbing it under the starfish's edge. It wriggled violently, resisting, sucker limbs holding tight. It took three tries—and a lot of cursing—but she finally pried it loose and flung it to the ground.
It didn’t die. It just scuttled away, leaving a trail of mucus behind like some nightmare Roomba.
Then she realized it wasn’t alone.
Half a dozen more were coming from the water, their little arms wriggling with grotesque coordination. One latched onto a trash can. Another started climbing a nearby bike.
And one was racing right toward her again.
With no weapon and no time to think, Howick did the only thing she could. She punted it like a soccer ball. It flew with a squelch, slammed into a tree, and fell still. Dry. Crumbling.
“…Huh.” She blinked. “Okay. Violence does work.”
She stomped the next one under her boot before it could reach her, then another. They were fast, but not invincible—if she could keep them from attaching, she could take them down.
Two more leapt, and she ducked, smacking one midair with her forearm. It landed wrong, shriveled, and turned to dust.
After several minutes of frantic dodging, stomping, and grunting through the pain of itchy bite marks, the rest scattered. Some disappeared into the grass. A few latched onto a passing garbage truck and vanished over the hill.
She stood in the street, sweating, covered in slime, and breathless.
“Seriously. What’s next?” she muttered, swiping at her arm. “Flying jellyfish? Killer plankton?”
She winced, rubbed her leg where the bite still throbbed.
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