S
Literature
Skin and Tentacles Underneath the cover of a heavy rain, a small, silent shack stayed lit above the shadows. Light emanated from underneath the roof, and though there was an occasional draft, nobody could see through the cracks inside. The interior displayed simple furnishings, with a wood floor, a closet opposite the door, a small hole in the ground the size of a curled-up housecat in the back-left corner, a dresser on the right, and a mirror that took up the entirety of the wall on the left. There was no bed in sight, nor any kind of food to be consumed. This single room was, in its entirety, a special kind of home. In this home, the most important thing was neither the wall-size mirror nor whatever was inside the closet that faced the door, but rather, what slept in the small pit the size of a curled-up housecat. From the back-left corner of the room, something moved. Slowly but surely, a thick, firm, lengthy tentacle reached out from the hole, its suckers pop-pop-popping quietly against the