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Disturbance #97

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They can't see it, obviously they can't, Chay and Farmer, if they could see it they wouldn’t be trying to stay in this pentagram, they’d be running, their logic and sense would fail, overcome by the fear of that, there, inside that black hole, a million miles inside it yet still at the surface, unrelenting, expecting to be noticed, enjoying being feared, soaking in the acid apprehension and bileous hatred swilling about its limbs, washing its ulcerated surface like poison, gorging on our terror like greed gorges at a full table, but they can't, obviously they just can't see it.

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