The Fold in Time

The charnel oddity envisioned the strange appliance as it twisted and turned within the abject void of space and time. It reached out, not with hands, but with crimson tendrils that drew the darkened thing into itself.

Never had the oddity seen, felt or breathed in such a confusing puzzle. With in it were malformed slips of pulp, dried and repurposed, with vile, disgusting images and ductile rectangles.

It rifled through the object before deciding it would be best to place in the keeping of the great dreaming god. Surely, it would know what it was and why it had been floating unguarded through their reality.

The great dreaming god examined it and concluded that it belonged to a human, that it had once imagined their hideous odors and warm skinned faces in a most pleasant nightmare. The god decided that their must be a human residing, no hidden, within their antiquarian longitude and that it must be discovered and destroyed.

As creature set upon creature seeking to discern the location and to kill this human, the dreaming god further examined the unfamiliar entities shrouded  within the device. One was a hard surfaced, a strange glyph embedded in it that held much interest.

More intelligent than the other, the dreaming god could decipher these unusual and simplistic scribings which read: Taylor Rundel. The hard surfaced thing also held an image of this bipedal mortal, an image far to abhorrent for it to describe.

“This corporeality must be found, then destroyed at all cost,” the dreaming god demanded, waves of energy rolling from it’s massive misshape.

Within time, those commanded would find no human among their aberrant beings, but by then their world was a shamble, death and rot twisting and turning in an abject void of space and time. And not even the commanding dreaming god was above the ensuing suspicion left by a wallet lost from some other latitude outside their now dead multiverse kingdom.