The Octopus Train (Relocation/Tourism)

[jkjones21]

The fog is thick enough that you feel your skin crawling despite the bone-freezing cold. Massive, moist tentacles slide into view, grasping and sucking at the tracks, the station, the passengers as they pull your ride out of obscurity.

When it glides to a stop, a hatch opens, revealing glistening viscera the color of hot tar.

Stepping inside, your hand brushes the wall. Against your skin the slime shimmers iridescent, as if the faintest red from your frozen, pallorous hand excites the entire spectrum.

The conductor takes your burgeoning pseudopod in his own, and as he punches it, you scream.

[gunsofchekhovia]

This one is rather disconcerting. The juxtaposition of hands and tentacles, skin and slime, is disorienting. I normally would say that telling a story in second person should be reserved for extraordinary circumstances, but I think this might be one of those circumstances. It is hard to tell where the environment ends and "you" begin in this piece. Calls to mind "The Shadow Over Innsmouth." I like it.

[jkjones21]

Yeah, I thought it felt a little Lovecraftian after I finished it. Too bad August is over.

[Varda]

Just remember, the spirit of Lovecraft Month can live with us all year long, if only we'll keep it alive in our hearts.