It’s been three days since that thing showed up.
I saw Rusty in the corridor. Or what used to be Rusty. He’s gone the way of all the crystal ponies. The squirming things covering his face, like a thousand thick, twisted worms. They grow directly from his flesh. It’s so hideous to look at. The creature ignores him, and he ignores it.
Some of the crystal ponies walked right into it. It swallowed them up, dissolved them. They did not scream. They uttered not a single sound. The wretched wriggling things on their faces and backs shivered with what I can’t help but think was excitement.
The whistling is so loud in our ears.