The Squid

When I walked into my living room and saw it, I thought I was daydreaming and it was just Butch, our German Shepherd laying on the sofa, but when I opened my eyes again and saw what it really was, I almost dropped my backpack and ran.

My mother was sitting on the opposite sofa, the one under the window, frozen, and a look of terror had swept across her face. Butch was nowhere to be seen. What lay on the sofa wasn't our loving dog... it was a huge, pale grey squid.

Its tentacles weren't long as one would would expect of a squid, but they were short and stumpy, as if it hadn't grown properly. Its head was massive and covered the whole of the mocha sofa.

The stench was horrible, but the protective slime that covered its smooth parchment skin was dripping onto the carpet. The smell reminded me of the fishmonger's at the precinct.

It had huge pebble shaped black eyes and a mouth that was almost human.

"It's eaten Butch," my mother muttered, and got up off the couch. From the kitchen, I could hear the radio, and Genesis were singing 'In Too Deep.' My brother was in there and he was looking for a knife, my mother told me. Her face looked pallid and beaded with sweat.

About me

This is me: home-writer, book-reader, dog-lover and occasional poet. I make this website to share my and my friends texts with You, dear Reader. Please: read carefully, don't be scary, upgrade your mood and be king and leave your comment. :)