Colonel Anderson jumped as the beast slammed its snaked arm against the splintering glass. His hands shook as he lifted his wrist to his mouth, spitting breathless commands to the rest of his platoon. He had to stay quiet: the alien saw the world in sound. It knew he was there on the other side of the bulkhead. It knew. He hissed a second order but it was no good,… they were gone.
“Aaaand I think we’ll call that Lunch, Colonel,” boomed a female voice. “That’s the Tenth simulation you’ve screwed. But don’t feel too bad,… it’s Pasta Wednesday”
(c) Tim Austin 2016
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Tendrils was suggested by my old sparring partner John “Bobby” R Wilkinson (Esquire): Associate Artist at York Theatre Royal and all-round top bloke!
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