Baked Scribe Flashback : Ittan Momen
Lillith hadn’t paid the thing any mind at first, just a piece of stray laundry, caught in the breeze that was floating her way. It looked like an elongated sheet, maybe a runner for an end table, something that had pulled free from the line it had been drying on.
The thought that froze her in her tracks was when it occurred to her that the sheet was floating against the wind.
She spun back around as the sound of rustling fabric behind her, and she was immediately wrapped up in a flurry of white.
As she threw her arms up to try and clear the thing away, she was lifted partially off the ground and spun around several times, until her head started to swim. Her arms dropped back down to their sides, and the thing quickly wrapped around, pinning them to her body while throwing her roughly to the ground. It was almost funny to think what this must look like to a passer-by, to see her writhing around hopelessly inside of someone’s lost bed linens.
Except that it wasn’t a sheet.
It had looked like white cotton as it flitted about through the air, but as it pulled tighter around her, it felt like flesh. She tried to rip through it with her nails, but couldn’t come even close to breaking through. She tried to scream out for help, but could no longer draw in enough breath to do so. The absurdity of the situation as she toppled over backwards was infuriating. Her legs were now fully tangled up in the thing as it seemed to have unlimited length. All she could feel was the mounting pressure around her body.
Every part of her was now covered, save for her face. She thought that she could hear whispers, spoken softly in her ear in a language that she could not understand. Then, the thing moved up and around her eyes, obscuring the world around her in a translucent fog of white. It continued wrapping around, covering her nose, and now forcing its way into her mouth, down her throat. In that final moment, her last thoughts were of struggling in vain for air that she would never taste again.
