Eric Fomley

The structure of the ceiling was like the inside of a rib cage, like the earth itself was some turd being swallowed by whatever creature was in here.

The air that wafted out was moist and hot and smelled like the worst sort of dead animal I'd ever smelled.

It turned my stomach and I gagged.

But above all else was the screams.

Oh God, the screams.

There was a cacophony of screams from organic beings.

Not just some that sounded human, but worse.

Like the whole universe was crying out at the abomination I was looking at, begging for reprieve.

I dropped my gun and fell to my knees.

The sight, the sound, it was enough to drive me mad.

Tears blurred my eyes as I took the sights in.

I could feel myself gasping for air, choking, but without being able to catch my breath.

Then the hole started to stitch itself closed from the floor to the ceiling like a suture that knitted the wound back together that separated our world from whatever this hellish place was that I was in front of.

Soon I was in front of blank drywall in an abandoned factory in Granville, alone.

That's when my backup showed.

They said they found me murmuring something, but I don't remember that.

I do remember the tears that wouldn't stop streaming down my face and the inability to tell them what exactly happened, what I saw, and where the suspect had gone.

I sat in silence for a long time until they brought the chief out.

He relieved me of duty.

I'm going to have to stop talking about it after I put this here.