As we climbed up the jagged rocks to the side of the enormous steps, approaching the giant doors carved into the mountainside, Alex lost his footing and cut his knee. When we collapsed on the top slab, the blood from Alex’s wound began to pool. I pulled a belt from my pack and cinched it around his thigh, trying to slow the flow. The red puddle wasn’t growing, so my dread subsided. Then the ground beneath me rumbled. The blood sank into the slab, as the doors slid apart into the rock on each side.
Rosen had already scrambled to the far corner and behind a stone. I pulled Alex under his shoulders and dragged him to the corner near Rosen. He yowled in pain, but it was a powerful, angry sound which gave me relief that he wasn’t as bad off as I had feared. Alex’s eyes went wide and his mouth dropped open. I followed his gaze and froze horrified as monstrous, gigantic humanoid fingers clawed through the crack in the door.
As if we had been shrunk to the size of flies, I suddenly knew the fear of being swatted. I imagined my bones crunching, pinched between a thumb and a forefinger. I covered my mouth with both hands to stifle a scream. Alex’s head lolled on his chest in a faint. More and more unbelievably enormous hands and forearms reached through the opening as if trying to escape. I began to imagine that all of the hands belonged to one multi-armed god. And not the benevolent, forgiving kind.
Rosen’s voice quivered behind me, “Are, are, you, see-ee-ing this? Tell me you’re not seeing this.”

Maria L. Berg #Writober7 Day 16 2022