Two nights later was the next night interupted with a flashlight in my face, the fellow handling such vile weaponry whispering in pleads to hurry, a night's emergency upon us. A tone so hurried, enough with the light on sensitive eyes to wake me up in an instant, rolling out of bed, and out with the rest.
The waters a deep navy at midnight, the scurrying of men's feet rushing to where elongated stretches of inkstain on the walkway were sourced. The thumping of limb-to-destroy ever louder through the approach.
My claws tightened into what could be called a vague fist on the final approach of what had disturbed all of us -- a legend had awoken, usually only told to scare children into sleep. A squid the size of buildings, tentacles length of skyscraper. All of it as black as darkness itself as a concept, just like the need for revenge that beast seemingly had.
The yells of all of us, the prepared tactics known for years in case such a thing came to occur. Aim for the head. A head slightly obscured, eyes shining like submarine window, ghastly white bright. It looked like a giant, unyielding ghost, and that is what it was clamored to be in the legends. A ghost of a child who died in rage, and, unfinished with such rage, was now stuck going along the waves, trambling whatever was in the path. Perhaps the worst part of such myth was that, in the end, it was a child. A child we now had to get rid of, but still a child taken too soon.
Everything felt so mute, adrenaline pumped through my head. My pace towards it quickened, one claw holding the other arm steady, the right arm pointed at the head. I was a weapon of Sugarteara, an arrow to seal peace for the people! And surely I couldn't fail this, or else, I would fail everyone. Faster. Faster. Right under another tentacle slithering, ducking as if to enter a cave. Almost there. A leap made from crumbling ground, pointed straight at those taunting white eyes. Perhaps not the best choice.
The most horrifying part of squids are the amount of limbs they have to use. I was soon grasped by one, or rather, just pushed back to the ground. In those split-seconds, I knew my mistake, but not the price to pay for my impulsivity. Slammed into the ground by right arm. Cracks made where I was, the rightmost part of my chest the center of newborn crater.