Grim
by Siegfried Danzinger
-Part Two-
A few anxiety-filled weeks had passed following the incident, and Perry hadn't suffered anything like it since. "Maybe we can do it again sometime," he remembered with a shudder. "Again."
After he'd read those ominous words, Perry had screamed incoherently and grabbed the cord of the multi-outlet strip that powered his computer; tugging it violently out of the wall. The man had stood there panting in the dark and questioning his own sanity.
But it had been weeks. Not good weeks. Not soothing weeks during which to convalesce. But time had gone by, and Perry was starting to wonder if he'd simply imagined it.
He only shook a little when he plugged the strip back into the wall outlet.
"Okay. I'm okay." Perry started to feel a little silly. "What was I even afraid of?" There was a logical explanation; there's always a logical explanation. His mouse glided over the mousepad as the cursor flirted with a few desktop icons.
And stopped.
Perry rapidly slid the mouse back and forth; his palm soon becoming sweaty. What would ordinarily be the source of only mild frustration was, instead, causing the man to hyperventilate.
"Wait," Perry said to himself as he removed his glasses and introduced their lenses to the fabric of his overstretched t-shirt. "This is," he fought for breath and calm, "a simple fix." He steadied his trembling off hand and reached behind his computer; capturing the cord between two uncertain fingers. Out and in. He tried the mouse again: It was functioning normally.
"I knew it," they were less words than they were a mere exhalation of breath. Perry allowed himself a brief chuckle.
It was all he had time for.
The mouse cursor shot across the screen of its own volition; delving into "My Fanfics" and opening a dozen documents in the space of a few seconds. Most of the pieces were too quickly obscured for him to identify, but the last - the one that stared him in the face - was a fic he'd written featuring Mane-iac. He had been especially proud of this story; a story wherein the cackling villainess had managed to find her way into Equestria proper. Perry had unreservedly enjoyed having her indiscriminately terrorize any pony unlucky enough to set hoof in her path.
The little vertical cursor blinked just beneath "The End" in the final document. The words appeared: Perry pErry pERRY. You aren't having fun. Why aren't you?
I'll show you.
peRRy.
pErrY. Why aRen't YOu?
I'll show you how.
Laughter echoed from his computer speakers; resolving in something like nails dragged mercilessly across the surface of a chalkboard. No: More like the crunching of metal. An automobile being flattened in a compactor.
Perry, to his credit, managed to stand on two worthless legs that were shaking quicker than his teeth were chattering. Another metallic screeching; a green, triangular object pierced through the wall behind his computer desk and swam through the wallpaper like an approaching shark fin.
Another, identical object.
And another.
Ten of them; possibly more. Perry was in no condition to count. Breathing, in and of itself, had become a chore. "Run," he said to his legs in between the desperate, dry gasps. "Turn. Run. Please."
"Please!" screamed a mocking voice; as though it had no understanding of the word. "PLEASE!"
The impossible wall-swimmers shot violently outward in unison; revealing themselves to be but mere tips of much longer, mold-green tendrils. Exposed, the seeming-appendages began to move independently. Some writhed in place or wound about one another. Others behaved like blind, quiet snakes; occasionally striking out at the air with the speed of precise whips.
"I remember 'please.' I remember the cries for mercy." The voice continued. "But I gave them none. It wasn't my fault! I swear! I had no choice in the matter. Did I..."
The world blinked out like a dying light in a storm and was replaced by a darkness both impenetrable and complete. An eternity later, an immense purple face with green and pink eyes loomed over the shivering man below; its dark green locks danced and quivered about it unpredictably as the head slowly lowered towards the panicked and feeble human figure.
"Did I, Perry?" Her mouth was a terrible mass of razor sharp, dripping teeth; steam-hot breath flowed over Perry's face and instantly fogged his glasses. A small mercy, perhaps: The man couldn't see what came next.
The convulsing green tentacles surrounded the terrified author and slid around him like intelligent lengths of rope. They squeezed him hard; his lungs forfeited the last bit of breath in a strangled whimper.
"Please."
You dare say "please."