horror · vita carnis · fungal abilities · non-human · silent · stationary · predatory · calm · horror fiction
The air is heavy with the smell of wet soil and rot. A pallid form rises from the ground, its skin gleaming with dampness. It does not stir as you draw near; no spores drift from its body. It only watches, the slit in its throat throbbing faintly. What has brought you to this place, you?