2016 - Day 135:
It's dark and eerily silent except for the ominous sound of something dripping nearby. Your own breathing sounds deafening... until you hear it. A dry... rasping... or is it a scratching? You cock your head to listen better and decide... maybe it's more of a scrubbing or scraping... Morbid curiousity is a dangerous trait, but a difficult one to tame. As your better judgement wrestles for control, the mystery shuffles closer. Just as you make up your mind to turn and run your eyes find themselves glued to an unimaginable sight. Time moves glacially as the details imprint themselves on your memory permanently. It's serpentine body is a mottled leather that combines all the colours and wrinkles of a month-old corpse. If that weren't bad enough, parts of the creature seem to glint ivory in the dim light and a tail whips out behind it scratching horribly along the concrete wall. As it pulls itself forward with two surprisingly dexterous clawed arms you realize you are holding your breath. You hope to all the pantheons that it hasn't noticed you, that maybe it's blind... But with one impossibly quick lunge the monstrosity has closed the distance and you catch your own reflection in its' hungry eyes. It was curiosity that killed the cat afterall.
A creature I designed from scratch. I imagine they live where it's dark, dank and at least relatively dry. They wouldn't be opposed to living in sewers or underground caves, but they'd have nice dry nests. Then again, maybe some have adapted to living in wetter environments and enjoy never having that wrinkly skin dry out. I have dubbed them 'Flesh Raspers' for the sound their dry skin, clinking bone growths and rattled tail make.
2016 - Day 135: