日韩欧美亚洲范冰冰与中字

Not long after, he heard Gunnar\'s footsteps coming back to their camp site. 

"Holy shit….. What in the world…. I don\'t understand….. Those bats just..."

Howard\'s eyes became dangerously thin. "Those are not bats. They\'re something else entirely."

He looked around at the trees, and realized their repeating pattern.They all looked identical for miles and miles.

Howard gritted his teeth. How can he not realize it? He was so focused on vampires and vampire bats that he had forgotten that there were other forces out there. Others who were equally malicious. 

"We\'re lost now. We\'ll never get out unless we convince it that its not fun to play with us." 

"Convince what?" Gunnar furrowed his brows in confusion. 

Howard looked at the mud on the ground. The fireplace they made had been swallowed already. It\'s rising up to reach their feet. 

But he knew that it was just an illusion. As soon as he realized that, the scene had completely changed. 

They were now in a farm house. Gunnar blinked in confusion beside him. 

"Huh? Um….." 

He continued to look everywhere, listening to the sound of the sheeps bleating in their sleep. There was nothing for miles, and the lights only came inside this large red barn. 

"Had we always been on this farm? Did the farmer ask help for bats here or... \'Cause I was pretty sure it was in a forest." 

Howard shook his head. "Don\'t believe its lies. Stay alert, hold on to what you know is real. You are Gunnar, you came from a family of Samis. You are a hunter of vampires and vampire bats. You are in Salem, Oregon." 

Gunnar nodded, muttering all these to remind himself. 

"Gunnar….. Sami... Bats... Salem, Oregon...…"

Howard looked around. The swaying wheatfields repeat in the same pattern, all identical. He gritted his teeth, and focused on also reminding himself what was real and what was false. 

That was when he heard the singing behind the door of that barn. 

The person inside was knocking rhythmically. Knock, knock, knock….. KNOCKKKK, KNOCKKK, KNOCKKKK,.... knock, knock, knock. 

Three short ones, three long, three short again. The morse code for S.O.S.

Howard then realized that they were not the only \'real humans\' alone in this... unreal place. Someone was asking for help, possibly someone who was being victimized by the owner of those fake bats. 

Those bats made of clay.

"Clay. Show yourself." He called out. "We didn\'t mean to trespass your territory. We\'ll be on our way."

The knocking stopped, and there were shouts inside. This alarmed Gunnar and stopped him from muttering. He went to the door. 

"Hello!? Who\'s there!? What\'s wrong!? I\'ll get you out there as soon as I could!"

Howard pulled on his hand. "No, wait. You can\'t help them, they\'re already being devoured—"

The door swung open. Gunnar became frozen on the spot from what he was seeing. Inside was…..

A person was inside, seeming to be molding a clay pot. Their backs were turned from the two, and all they could see was their long, curly, dirty blond hair. The color was that of hay rolled up in muck, a very ugly color indeed. 

Besides that, they can see nothing. They can\'t see what this person was wearing. Their long hair reached to the floor, almost covering it. But the thing was…..

They can\'t tell where this person\'s hair began or ended. Which is not their hair, and which was. They just all blended in together like a watercolor painting. The curls were so curly that they hurt to look at, and even seemed to be moving on their own.

Howard remembered this experiment with using milk and food coloring in his art class back in college, before he dropped out. He thought it was one of the most bizarre experiences in his life. 

They would drop food coloring in different colors on a dish full of milk. Then, they would use a cotton swab with some dish soap in it. Once it touched the colors, it would make that weird moving effect that was similar to what he was seeing now. 

The person turned around. They appear androgynous, with features that could be masculine and feminine at the same time. Their face was too angular though, edges so sharp that you\'d think they could cut someone. 

That\'s when Gunnar realized they\'re not a person. They\'re something, but not a person.

IT is not a person.

"Oh….. It was actually you, Howard. Long time no see." 

Its voice was soft and rough, pleasing to the ear yet also so grating you just want to tear off your ears. There were more voices than there should be, yet less at the same time. 

Howard was disoriented by it, but this wasn\'t his first time feeling this way. 

"Clay. I didn\'t know you lived in these woods too."

Gunnar was flabbergasted by this casual exchange between his companion and this…. Thing that he still couldn\'t understand. 

"W….. What are you!!? What are you doing to that man!?" 

Sure enough, the clay that Clay was molding showed the face of a bearded man…. or what\'s left of it. Barely anything was left, the rest were liquified to putty in its hand. 

Clay tilted its head, but it did it so much that it started to slip off from its neck the way that melted ice cream would start to slide off a cone. 

"You\'ve brought a new friend….. Hello, sir. How\'s the game?"

Gunnar\'s head seemed to hurt, and he clutched it tightly. "I…. Are you a fairy? Fairies from back home also liked to do things like this, messing with your head….."

Howard sighed. "It\'s pointless to label Clay. It is what it is…. Or more correctly, it is what it\'s not. Clay was just the name I gave it."

"Which I never asked for, so it\'s quite rude of you." Clay chuckled. "You two are both so unlucky to be already marked. You could have become part of the new masterpice I\'m creating too! How are your arts, by the way, Howard?"

"Much better than yours." Howard answered plainly. 

"Hahaha….. You\'ve become cockier now. What happened? Surely you did not accept his.... Oh, I see how it is." 

Howard narrowed his eyes. "It\'s not whatever you think it is. Don\'t get it twisted."

"Oh, but it is. And my dear, everything is twisted. Did you make that silly motto against me? Or against all of us…. Twisted things…."

Gunnar banged his head on the wall. "Fuck this! I don\'t understand! I don\'t undestand! Get me out of here!"

"Gunnar, focus on the facts I told you! What is real!" Howard reminded him. 

Clay didn\'t even move, and it was suddenly by Gunnar\'s side. Holding him with those dripping hands, mixing its awful colors with his. 

"Hahahaha! Poor thing. Howard is holding up much better than you because he has a higher ranking." Clay said, almost in a way someone would coax a child. "You are just a pawn, and he is a knight. A dark knight of the Night." 

Howard brought out his knife up to its neck. "Let him go. I still need information from him."

Clay looked at the knife with a wide smile, the edges of its lips stretching all the way into its eyeball. 

"And you killed my beautiful bat babies. The locals think they can follow them to search for deers in the dark. How else can I make pottery with their heads now?"

Howard scoffed. "You can always make new ones."

"Then give me a sacrifice, and I\'ll set you free. It has always been this way." 

Howard reluctantly agreed. "Fine. Give me nightmares, I don\'t care. They\'re all I ever have when I sleep anyway."

"Precisely!" Clay said, letting go of Gunnar. "So it won\'t do. I think I\'d much rather accept your child\'s dreams."

Howard\'s eyes widened, and he shook his head. "No. My children are too young, they won\'t survive your twisted nightmares—"

"Then I\'ll choose the one who\'s not young. Your eldest has always fascinated me." 

Howard went to stab it. "You bastard! Don\'t you d—"

But he and Gunnar were soon back in the forest, inside their small tent. The rain had stopped, and it was already morning. 

Outside was a muttering man, who had fully lost it and was not even saying anything that made sense. There was just a permanent look of terror in his eyes, and he kept running his fingers over his own face as if.... molding it.

Howard knew it was too late. Clay let them go. The sacrifice had been made, and that thing shall soon make its pot from his son\'s head.