Clarice ran.

It was catching up.

The shambling horror that had pursued her throughout the night was right behind her now.

“Help”, she sobbed, through her rasping, gasping breathing. “Help Me!”

Her pursuer remained just out of sight, leaving its appearance to fester in Clarice’s desperate imagination.

Not much further… the cafe must be around the next corner…

With her remaining strength she hurtled around the last warehouse. There! The cafe! And someone at a table! She lunged forward but – NO!

Too late! Unseen appendages dragged Clarice into the air over the startled diner. Suspended in space, Clarice’s back arched hideously until - snap - her tiny body failed and was quickly torn into bloody rendings that were now slurped down hideously by the invisible horror. It gurgled and screamed with terrible pleasure, and with a blast of fetid wind, was gone.

“Damn pissant showoff!”, muttered H.P., the single customer of the ‘Arkham Outdoor Bar and Grill.’ He returned to his plate of calamari.