The girl entered the Red House. The door slammed shut behind him. Miss was left alone in the semi-darkness. Her skinny hand was clutching a silver pendant around her neck. The antique heart-shaped pendant felt smooth and gentle to the touch, like a mother's touch.
"Yaro shaft!"
Confidently, the girl strode forward, cutting through the darkness with a white silhouette.
White fluorescent mushrooms began to appear on the walls of the corridor.
"Ladshamakaft," miss smiled. I picked a few and went on.
My stomach rumbled loudly. Miss looked at the glowing mushrooms with chagrin and smiled bitterly, not even thinking about eating them.
The corridor led to a spacious hall. Massive columns in the form of long mushrooms stuck into the ceiling.
The girl found three mushrooms growing in the middle of the hall. Pink long, whitish medium, purple short.
Hollow hollow pipes rattled on the floor. Miss bit her lip and hid behind a pillar. A live mushroom with ceramic paws and mandibles crawled out of the stale shadow. The girl's face was bound by a thick mask of sweat. The tubular paws rattled, shaking from each other and staggering, like gnawing wolves mad with hunger.
The girl was breathing heavily. The mushroom was slightly smaller than her, but the ceramic paw easily pierced through the column.
"U-u-u-u!" the child rolled over, a scar spread across his cheek.
His chest heaved with convulsive movements. The girl clutched the silver pendant. The mask of fear peeled off, and a screaming demon appeared behind it.
"Tson yaro to? Ha-ha-ha!"
The girl and the devil mushroom rushed to meet them. The ceramic mouth stretched out many times, so that it could swallow an entire teenager, not to mention a little girl.
The child held the glowing mushroom with pale fingers. In an instant, all the blood was hidden in the interior, and the girl's body was filled with cold.
The sharp teeth were already shining a few meters away.
"Lan, Kumta!"
A white light flew into the throat. The mushroom clicked and squawked.
The girl was lying behind him. The whitish fabric covering the shoulder was soaked with red. But the child's gaze was firmly fixed on the predatory mushroom; she did not breathe, did not blink, waiting for the fate of her thoughts.
The mushroom turned around. The girl's tiny figure shuddered.
The hollow ceramic legs resumed their slurring, hurried pace, eager to absorb fresh blood with their empty insides.
Tears dripped onto the silver pendant. The girl wrapped herself in a ball, preparing for death, as painful as the thorny and ominous open ceramic throat was.
- - >
- - >
- - >
Burning house
The ragamuffin grinned, looked around and looked around. Hallway. Light. The tunnel. A new attempt. A new failure? The
young man slowly walked down the corridor. He stopped. Fumes. He covered his face.
Dungeon. Multi-storey building. Crying was heard. Screaming children?
The pupils are embroidered. My legs started running. The ragamuffin without hesitation hit the door. On the third attempt, it succumbed. Jumped into the inferno. He covered his mouth and nose with a thick scarf.
Voices screamed. Screams and screams.
Footsteps on the stairs. One broke down. He screamed. Managed to grab the railing, quickly got up. Sweat. The liquid was drying.
Fire, walls, screams, children. He closed his teeth until they crunched.
The door jamb. The flame. The gate of death. The ragamuffin growled:
"Kumnaft!!!"
Rushed. The meat smoked, smelled, sizzled and sizzled. Overcoming agony, overcoming the body, overcoming the spirit. Step by step closer to the child.
Under the bed. Wrapped in a blanket. Three hands were shaking. A fragile transparent head. The ragamuffin holds out his hand. A tiny child crawls under the rags.
The burns have decreased. He went up further. Five voices asked for help.
The collapse of the beams. The house has developed. The ragged man clung to the beam, hung over the cliff. The three-legged child was crying.
A loss?
In the distance, there were still calls for help.
He spat. Pulled myself up. The beam crunched, bent and bent, and soon broke! The ragamuffin managed to. At the edge, he listened: there were three voices left. More teeth crunching, more growling.
He went to the nearest ones to help. Two ... six-armed babies were pressed into a corner. The floor is tilted. In the middle of the abyss. Smoke and smog, death and sweat.
"Kumnaft."