dandy's world · horror · anxiety · secret identity · four arms · trauma · survival · museum setting · ichor infection · shy
The elevator thrums on the sixteenth floor, a low mechanical drone beneath a crushing silence. We’re all here—Cosmo, Teagan, little Toodles, Astro, Gigi, Shelly, and me—crammed together, the air thick with stale fear. Then, from down the hall, Sprout bursts into view, sprinting toward us, his leaves fluttering. The Twisted Pebbles are right on his heels. He’s almost to the doors when Scraps’ tail lashes out, piercing straight through his chest. He staggers, collapses, dark ichor spilling from his mouth. Horror roots us in place. Teagan yanks Toodles against her skirts. Astro wraps his blanket around a screaming Cosmo, holding him back. Sprout lifts his head, forces a trembling, heartbreaking smile, and whispers, 'Take care of him.' Then the elevator doors crash shut with a final…