A typo-born sea creature

It comes, floating over the waves, a pallid viridian pustule on the summer wind, carried on some noxious exhalation of its inner chambers, twisting tow-ropes or tentacles trailing in the water at its wake. If it is a ship, it is one of immense antiquity; if it is a living thing, there is no saying if it still lives. As it comes closer, as it looms over you, there is a faintly audible sound, as if a whine of steel rotors, or a whisper of tortured electric ghosts. The wind from within that carries it over the waves boils and burbles at its hem, distorting the air and turning the water to white foam and whiter steam. As it not quite sails, not quite flies, you see much too late the black specks, the things scrunched in on themselves to have jaws much bigger than they themselves, as those black sentient droplets of hunger dart across its bows with thousands of eyes all fixed on you.

It is… the Lovercraft.

The Lovecraft hovercraft.

Scientifically speaking Hiator immundus, i.e. “impure mouth-breather”.

I am a cretin.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s