illustration is art

Creaturina

From nowhere she blurs to an impossibly motionless stop an arms length from you.
She is calm and serene as she regards you with her liquid black, unblinking gaze.
She smells of cloves and blood.
Her brain is not wired for a conscience, nor does she feel empathy.
Her speed and strength are exponentially greater than yours.
Her skin exudes a pheromone that makes you trust her… given time it would cause you to love her… you do not have that much time.
She is hungry.
She is the last thing you ever see.

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