Alex does not know where she is.

  Not exactly a surprise, she’s always had a poor sense of direction; but there’s getting lost in the city, with its myriad of alleyways and streets, all segmented into vertical slices, creating endless nightmares to any self-respecting city planner, and then there’s whatever the fuck this is. She’s seen deserts, in movies and shows and sometimes on the news, she’s pretty they’re not supposed to be purple. Yet here she stands, a little speck surrounded by endless dunes of purple sand, it smells faintly of citrus.

  There are a few cacti littering the surroundings, she could swear they were looking at her, judging her somehow with their prickly little spikes.

  Then there’s the sky, it is green, and it is broken.

  Like a shattered pane of glass it opens to a new world, something grotesque and impossible. It’s a land of flesh and bone and viscera. Things push through the ground of exposed flesh like a diver surfacing through the waves, they stand uncountable. Fighting and feasting on each other from the second they are born. They are like nothing Alex has ever seen before, mouths shaped like vortex’s, many pikes of bone holding up a bulbose mass of eyes and teeth, things wriggling through the air as though it were dirt and they were worms. Some look to follow some rules of biology, with symmetrical limbs and balanced to carry their own weight, others are anatomical impossibilities shaped as though through the hands of the insane, while the last of their number are literal impossibilities, absorbing biomass through limbs and spitting out bone like weapons. The more they eat, the more they grow, the more they grow, the worse they become. There is a Dragon, or Alex chooses to call it a dragon, that is sleeping at the apex of a mountain of bone, Its head is split in two at the nuzzle, It’s eyes are closed. Each limb is bulging and bleeding, feeding the smaller creatures below like a river. The creatures keep fighting, keep dying, keep growing until-

  They stop.

  As one they turn to look at her.

  Hello, they say in words that cannot be language, you’re not supposed to be here.

  She lets out a huff, “well excuse me, Mr.alien beyond comprehension. If I could control my dreams, I wouldn’t have chosen to be sent here to have a conversation with some lazy attempts at eldritch vibes.” Because, as Alex has expertly concluded, she must be, in matter of fact, dreaming.

  Oh we’re nothing so complex as that, it replies with something that might be a chuckle, we appreciate the flattery though, and the lack of screaming, and crying.Proper communication is a novelty for one such as us.

  “Maybe invest in some skin, and vocal cords, and tone down the hive mind shit” she says “all the weirdness isn’t doing you any favours”

  In response she gets the mental impression of a shrug, we are what we are. We have as much control over our form as you do, child. Besides, we are fond of our nature, it is strong, and strength is often a necessity in our world.

  She tilts her head at that “Yeah, that’s fair” she replies “I’ve got to be strong too, so i guess we have that in common, although from the looks of it you go for the more violent interpretation”

  Strength is strength, child, any amount in any flavour is commendable.

  “Yeah but so many of my problems could be solved if I could just cap a bitch when they start being…well, a bitch”

  This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

  Cap a bitch, the eldritch horror echoes,you’re slang intrigues me child, where are you from?

  With that question, the Dragon wakes, opening its eyes to reveal pits of nothing. Not like a void, but as though beyond that point there is simply nothing, and to cross it is to become part of the Nothing that is its Eyes. It raises its head laboriously and turns to stare at Alex, a low rumble reverberating through its chest and shifting the sands of the desert. Despite knowing that it is a dream, she feels a bit of fear.

  “Arthas” she says.

  It doesn’t respond, but the Dragon does. It jumps off the mountain and lands on the flesh-ground and the small things atop it with a loud crash, eight pairs of limbs dig into the planet as the Dragon opens its double maw and takes a bite out of the planet.

  The response is immediate, tendrils emerge from the ground and wrap around the Dragon like chains, immobilizing it to the ground. Its struggles vibrate and shift the earth but it is all in vain, the tendrils do not break.

  She watches in amazement and wonders how she can see from so far away, by all rights, they should just be dots from this far away. Probably some funky dream logic.

  Interesting, it says, so much technology, yet so little progress. This is your home? My condolences child, though that does beg the question of how exactly you got here.

  She gets the distinct impression that if it had a chin, it would be rubbing it in contemplation, trying to puzzle out some great mystery.

  “It’s a dream” she says “I go to whatever place my brain makes up, and apparently have conversations with things that cannot be”

  Yes, yes, we know you believe you are dreaming. To a certain extent you’re not even wrong, but this place is very real, and coming here isn’t something someone from your world should be capable of.

  Alex raises an eyebrow “Sure”, she says diplomatically, though she does give herself a pinch just in case, and is vindicated when no pain arises. Although this does get an amused chuckle from the hive.

  That’s not how…no, as entertaining as this conversation has been, some things should not be spoken. Says the flesh amalgam, although there is a hint of regret in its ‘voice’, Alex wonders if she can push the answers out of it if she tries hard enough.

  “C’mon, no one needs to know, promise I won’t tell if you don’t”

  There are rules, child, some can be twisted but none can be broken. If we do, something much scarier than us will take issue with both of us, you do not want to meet them.

  She pouts at that, piquing her curiosity just to leave her out to dry is just rude, interspecies communication being no exception. Her reaction causes the being of many to outright laugh, causing her to scowl, which, to her chagrin, makes it laugh even harder.

  We like you, it says while still laughing, somehow, although your audacity is a product of misconception, it takes a certain person to be so brazen with their discontent in front of one such as we. Tell you what, meetings like this are rare for us, rarer still are the ones that don’t outright flee or do something foolish because of our appearance, how would you like a gift?

  That seemed oddly tantalising for an offer from a dream monster. She has nothing to lose anyway, none of this is real, after all.

  “I’ll take it, oh great flesh…thing? You don’t happen to have a name do you?” she asks

  We do, and someday you will know it, but that is not today. The gift will guide you so that someday you may ‘cap a bitch’ without worry for the consequences. It cannot make you like us but we guessed that you’d prefer your humanity.

  She nods at that “you guessed correctly”

  Just a few caveats though.Firstly, avoid cybernetic enhancements as much as possible. Secondly, although rare in your world, there are those who will see our mark and come to their own…conclusions, mostly violence. With that I believe our conversation has come to its end, goodbye, little Alex.

  Before she could muster a farewell of her own, it would only be polite, Alex is beset by a crushing kind of pain. As though everything that she is is being pulled to the centre of her being. She tries to scream, but all that comes out is a whimper, wave after wave of pain assault her, and she realises that some time between then and now she has collapsed onto the citrusy purple sand, she sticks out her tongue and licks it.

  Huh, tastes like mangos.

  And then she is gone.