Talia walked across the lawn and yawned. The alcohol stimulated her brain, leaving her consciousness hazy. That vague, tipsy feeling was exactly why many people drank.
The cold wind teased the ends of her hair, and before she knew it, Talia had reached the center of the lawn.
She breathed in the cool, crisp air, wanting to lie down on the grass and enjoy the moment.
But just as Talia sat backward, she felt as though she had settled onto a soft sofa.
The sofa was as soft as memory foam, and Talia soon sank deep into it. The comfort made her drowsy. Although sleeping outside at this time of year could easily lead to a cold, when sleepiness came over you, no nod or blink could be trusted.
Talia quickly fell asleep.
As her consciousness drifted away, the "sofa" surrounding her began to change.
Dark, slick, pitch-black tentacles wrapped around Talia's body. Black flesh gradually began to devour her, yet she remained sound asleep, as if the pain did not exist.
Her skin was torn open, blood spilling out as her nerves and muscles were slowly eroded. Even her bones failed to escape.
A moment later, Talia had been completely devoured. The invisible monster continued to writhe, and a mass of filthy black flesh fell to the ground. Soon, the flesh began to squirm, grow, and swell. In the blink of an eye, it had become a small monster, staggering across the grass as it learned to walk.
"So it really is impossible."
A sigh drifted over.
A young man held a camera in his hands, recording the scene.
"No matter how many times I repeat it, no matter what method I use, there's still no way to change it?"
He lowered the camera and looked toward the RV.