"If you are writing about a disaster, you don't need to use a grand perspective to describe the ruins of the entire world, nor do you need to use a detailed tone to detail the tragedy that happened to each person.
Because what I heard, saw, and associated with myself was enough to describe every undercurrent of the abyss in this dark vortex and outline its original bizarre and terrifying appearance. This is what I said after being rushed into the dark hole.
The principles learned while traveling through the dark and narrow passages of the world.
When we embrace the trap of light like unconscious prey, and then wake up, what appears in my field of vision is the rust stains under the iron plate that tilts up at one corner of the ceiling of the subway car..."
"God, where am I?" Quill covered his head and tried to sit up from the ground, but found that his forearm seemed to be glued to something. He tilted his head to the left and saw himself
Between the left arm that has just left the ground and the ground, there is a filament made of pulled mucus.
"What the hell is this?" Quil grinned and cursed. He put his arm on the ground again, shifted his body's center of gravity, and tried to lift his arm off the ground.
But when he put his right hand on the ground and exerted force, he found that his right forearm was also stuck to the mucus on the ground. Quil smiled helplessly and said: "I kind of know that the cockroach stuck on the sticky board is
What does it feel like, oh my god, rocket, rocket, are you there?"
"Puff, puff, puff..."
A series of tiny sounds came from a distance, and Quill froze. He instinctively turned his head to look in the direction of the sound.
There is endless darkness.
With the only cold light somewhere, Quill could clearly see the situation above his head. It was not an ordinary roof, but an iron plate. One of the iron plates had one leg tilted up, and mottled rust was exposed on the ground.
It seemed that he was in the subway car. Quil sighed. He even had time to comfort himself in his heart. Although he was an old man, he had seen the subway at least.
"Puff, puff, puff..." the voice continued.
Quill listened carefully and found that the sound was coming from a very far away place, and there was no sign that it was getting closer. He simply ignored the sound and focused on finding a way to get rid of the mucus that pinned him to the ground.
Shifting his center of gravity from the left to the right, exerting force from his abdominal muscles to his back muscles, Quill cooed on the ground in a somewhat funny posture for a long time, finally freeing half of his body from the entanglement of mucus.
Quill clenched his fists to encourage himself: "Okay, Peter, you are already halfway done. If you just work harder, you will be a free cockroach!"
Suddenly, a cold feeling came from his forehead. Quill touched the left side of his forehead with his free hand and found some dark marks. Because the light was too dark, Quill couldn't see what they were.
.
He wiped his hands on the ground, and the relatively dry mucus he broke free became the best cleaner, and the traces were rubbed away, but soon, two more drops of unknown liquid dripped onto Quill's forehead.
.
Quill shook his hand in disgust, and then discovered that there was something wrong with the state of the two drops of liquid. The way they flew out did not look like water.
Suddenly, he heard the sound of some mucus rubbing against his head.
Quill slowly raised his head, and then saw that under the raised iron plate, where he originally thought it was rust, densely packed, dark-colored eggs were surging.
More and more eggs fell down and flowed down Quill's forehead and high bridge of nose to his chin. Quill let out a broken scream and frantically wiped the things off his face with his hands.
Like an elk with a broken leg, he tried hard to move half of his body to avoid the terrible nest above his head. He weakly rubbed the dark marks on his face with his arms. He could even feel the fine...
Inside the gravel-like egg, there is a very regular heartbeat.
They are about to break out of their shells.
The moment this thought appeared in Quill's mind, he no longer cared about it. He grabbed the dried mucus and rubbed it on his face and body, wiping away the traces on his face as quickly as possible.
, and then threw it hard, and the slime ball just rolled under the weak cold light.
Quill saw clearly the source of the light. It was actually the indicator light on the subway door. At this time, under the light, the fine eggs wrapped in the slime ball began to hatch.
Countless black bugs with carapace and three pairs of hooked legs crawled out from the translucent embryos, but what awaited them was not rebirth, but a closed and constantly squeezing mucus mass.
The blood-red mucus has obviously lost its vitality, but it still entangles the densely packed insects, crushing their carapace, breaking their hook legs, and even crushing them into fine corpses.
The black bugs struggled to escape, but suffocated in front of the last barrier. Quil could even see their desperate expressions when they were suffocated, but more hooked legs pierced the mucosa, turning the red mucus into cloth.
Bodies full of holes.
Quill felt horribly suffocated, and he tried his best to get rid of the mucus sticking to his body, because more and more bugs hatched and grew bigger and bigger.
But the other half of the mucus showed no sign of drying up. It seemed as if it was still alive, biting on Quill's skin and unwilling to fall off.
The frightening ferocity under the simple and honest appearance of this lonely boy since he was a child was aroused. Quill reached for the dagger at his waist, held it in his hand, and cut a large gash on the skin that was stuck to the mucus.
Then Quill put his hand into the wound, and with a "squeak" sound, the entire skin peeled off, leaving the mucus on top. Then, Quill stood up unsteadily.
This decisive action saved his life.
Because the next second, the iron plate on his head could not support the densely packed insect eggs that were breaking their shells, and they fell down with a "bang", followed by the sound of mucus pouring out.
Quill was breathing heavily and didn't even have time to look at his bleeding arm. He stepped on the spot and turned around to run in the direction of the indicator light.
And just as he looked beyond the indicator light into the deeper darkness, he heard a familiar voice yelling and cursing in a language he didn't understand.
"Rocket, Rocket! I'm here!" Quill yelled.
Quill rushed over and saw the little figure next to the seat next to the door. Apparently he was also stuck with mucus.
Rocket Raccoon grabbed his tail and yelled in a low voice. The moment he saw Quill, he didn't even have time to explain his situation. Instead, he trembled his beard and said to him: "That damn doctor is crazy! He threw us away.
When I get to hell, I shouldn’t listen to him!!!”
"Don't worry about it for now." Quill took out the dagger, and with a "swish" sound, he shaved off the hair on Rocket Raccoon's tail. Fortunately, the raccoon's skin was not stuck to the mucus, so he only lost one.
With a wisp of hair, he successfully escaped.
He jumped on Quill's shoulders in two steps, and then said loudly in his ear: "Peter, I have to apologize to you! I listened to the damn conspiracy of an evil doctor, and he asked me to use drugs to treat...
Lead you to the steeple!"
Rocket Raccoon's voice was as sharp as an erroneous tape, but Quill made a silent gesture to him, then raised his ears and listened carefully.
"Puff, puff, puff..."
The sound was still very far away, but it was approaching here at a slow speed. Quill's eyes quickly turned, and then he said: "The mucus that sticks to us is very sticky, and it is definitely not saliva or something."
Suddenly his pupils shrank sharply and highlighted one word: "Flytrap...run!!!"
The moment Quill stepped forward quickly, a huge wave exuding a strong sour smell surged from the rear carriage. The splashed water droplets contained countless insect shells, hooked legs and uniformly hairy beards.
Eye.
Quill suddenly stopped because the cockpit was already in front of him. He glanced left and right and shouted: "Hurry up!!"
"boom!!!"
Quill rushed out through the glass of the side window. With a "crash" and the broken glass, he fell to the ground, but he did not stop for much, but rolled and climbed to the corner.
Then, he leaned on the corner, breathing heavily, watching the layers of giant maggots like sarcoids wrapped around the train, spraying his gastric juice into the interior of the train, sweeping away all the creatures inside the train, and swallowing them into his stomach.
inside, and then leave new mucus, waiting for a new wave of prey.
Quill leaned against the wall and gasped feebly. He turned his head to look at Rocket Raccoon and said, "What do you mean by 'doctor'?"
"I, I..." Rocket Raccoon seemed to have difficulty speaking, but he still pursed his lips and said: Those hallucinations you saw before, those tree roots and so on, were actually caused by drugs. "
Rocket Raccoon stretched out one of his paws, and Quill saw a small nozzle between his paws. Rocket Raccoon retracted his paws tremblingly, and then said: "The doctor called it 'fear gas'.
It only takes a little bit to make people engulfed in fear.”
"So, you tricked us into coming here?"
"Damn it, I had no idea he was going to do this! I thought the test he was talking about was just putting some monsters in the steeple-shaped building for you, or walking through a maze or something like that. He was playing too much!"
Rocket Raccoon lowered his head, seemingly blaming himself. He thought he would wait for Quill to scold him, but at this moment Quill held his head again and said to him: "Shh... did you hear that?"
"What?"
"Puff, puff, puff..."
The sound was getting closer and closer, and Quil felt his hair stand on end, but he didn't see anything in the darkness. He looked around and didn't find his travel bag, and even his hiking bag was gone, so now he
I don't even have any lighting equipment.
But at this time, Rocket Raccoon stretched out his other paw, and a ray of light appeared. He looked up at Quill and said, "If we get out alive, you can do whatever you want to me, but we have to leave this place first.
"
"I think so too."
Quill listened carefully to the source of the sound, then pointed at Rocket Raccoon's back and said, "There, what's there..."
Rocket Raccoon turned his head sharply and pointed the lighting device on his paw at the place Quill pointed to, but there was nothing there except the damp tunnel walls.
"No, no, no." Quill closed his eyes hard with some pain. A kind of pain that his perception was inconsistent with reality troubled him. He grabbed Rocket Raccoon and hugged him in his arms, staggering towards the sound.
ran in the opposite direction.
"What exactly did you see?"
"I didn't see anything!"
"Then why did you run?"
"Because I can't see!"
Quill and Rocket Raccoon ran all the way up the subway station, over the turnstile, and quickly ran up the out-of-service elevator.
The moment he regained his sight, what appeared in front of Quill was a grand sunset in a world devoured by monsters.
The golden light shines on the end of the quill stained with ink, and the pen tip gently falls on the paper. Even the words are illuminated in gold, but the content written on it is plunged into deeper and deeper darkness.
"Dusk is always called the moment of encountering demons, but I have never seen such an evil and terrifying scene in any dusk. The canvas of the sky and the earth is filled with monsters, and twisted monsters shuttle through it, as if they are the real ones.
The master of this world.
That was not Dante's Divine Comedy, I was sure of this, because I actually saw their unique and vibrant ecological order in this horrific, twisted and chaotic scene.
But I know that these are just appearances. Some thoughts have been bothering me. Those things that I can occasionally feel but cannot see, that keep me peeking in the tube without knowing the whole picture, are still hidden in the dusk.
In the shadow.
They are calling me, stretching out their arms from the darkness, wanting to hug me, just like the stars I saw on the day I was born."
