Obscurity

• Courtney Ould, Grade 11
• Short Story
• 2017

He hadn’t seen one like this before. The way its tentacles wrapped around his torso, throbbing red in time with a rushed heartbeat, he almost wanted to tap his foot along. The gnarled texture of its teeth was hard to capture; such a malice felt impossible to sketch in just pen. He knew the image would stay burned into his mind long enough to work on it when he had his supplies, however, so he wasn’t too concerned.

It was peculiar, however, this...thing. Even as he flipped through the pages he knew nothing contained within the rushed sketches would remotely resemble it. Even the most obscure of occurrences he had some form of resemblance in his crude excuses for drawings, such as the man standing next to him, eyes and mouth agape as burgundy liquid leaked from them and pooled at his feet; even that he could recognise. An inner turmoil of sorts; the build-up of negativity that erupted in some sort of murky spill. It was uncommon but familiar nonetheless. But this entity, as it flickered holographically in its double layered reality, seemed almost separate. Even as its coils seeped from the man’s back like a crude extension of himself, it seemed almost sentient in its own malevolence. Protrusions slimy with black energy caressed the stranger’s hair almost tenderly, a poetic juxtaposition of sorts as each movement was paired with an equally gentle hiss of red steam from between its teeth.

Agitated, he turned his attention to the girl seated next to him. The airy crackling was comparable to that of popping candy, fizzing in a luminous pink as it sprung from her body. This occurrence was comparably more pleasant than its more hellish comrades, and as of now, he was appreciative of the minor distraction. Her positivity sourced in her phone conversation was somewhat contagious, and the creeping gnaw of uncertainty quickly ebbed away.

Stil…this energy. Every other one he’d seen had their respective connotations; there was never anything notably comparable to this. He couldn’t shift the feeling of devilish separation it had to its host, rather than simple mental state manifestation. The idea was absurd, but the hostility was undeniable.

The man himself wasn’t particularly noteworthy; he just looked tired. Hardly suspicious, but then again, even the utmost of ordinary of people had their shortcomings.

Even as he tore his gaze away for the final time, the surging swell of people and their respective auras did little to swallow up his quiet unease.


A confirmation of these suspicions wasn’t exactly what he had been hoping for, but at the very least it did provide the insight he was seeking. Three dead, five badly injured. The man’s face flashed onto the television screen under the bold red label of a murderer, as did the malign being wrapped around his neck in all its obsidian glory. In all honesty, he couldn’t say he was surprised, but it was intriguing, and labeling the new reference as dangerous seemed only fair.