The creature has enveloped her in a thick, black tentacle, picked her up as if her weight is negligible. She notices, even as terror freezes her limbs... that his surface is not smooth, but littered with patterned bumps that somehow couldn’t be seen, but are keenly felt. Not that it’s rough, on the contrary. The tentacle holding her is slick with slime, softened by a life in the water. Even then, Agnes can’t escape. She wriggles and thrashes, pushes the limb away and grunts with the effort. The. I turned around, and lo and behold, there stood Fergus, leering at me like only a creepy old white dude can. I glared at Fergus and asked him what he was looking at. The old bozo smiled wickedly and then told me that in his day, women knew their place and that I had quite a mouth on him. As I stared at him indignantly, Fergus crept closer to me, until we were inches from each other. That’s when the creepy old white dude called me a towel head to my face, and asked me if my hair was nappy under. More

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