Scaris slithered down the dimly lit hall, a confusing hash of syrupy sweetness and promised danger. Her bruised eyes flicked towards me as she passed, and I pasted on a smile to hide the shiver dancing spider-quick down my spine.
Pausing, Scaris turned towards me. She raised a wrench to her face, likely on her way to the engine room, and tapped it against her pierced lip.
“Loooondon,” she said, rolling my name around inside her mouth. “Your term is up soon, yes?”
“Yes,” I said. Just one more revolution on this scrap-heap.
“I’ve a farewell gift for you. An adventuuuure.”NOTE: Written for The Prediction. Challenge words: syrup, scrap, wrench. Photo by Xhon Dang on Unsplash.