SHORT FAT STUBBY FINGER STORIES PRESENTS:
THE FINAL COUNTDOWN
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Something was terribly wrong. They could smell burning, but it didn’t seem to coming from their connection with Rangor, it seemed to be coming from somewhere close by. Then the smoke slowly began to enter the room itself; the room they were occupying. The clash of thunder that accompanied it was so loud it made plates fall off shelves in the kitchen at the far end of the hotel. Then they heard the creature’s roar; a sound so loud, so personal, so hateful that their collective heads momentarily ached like it had been struck with full force by a baseball bat. The shivers that ran down their back originated from the way the ice was somehow packed hard against the curvature of their neck and their spine. They were being crushed to death by an invisible force and the pain so unbearable they were not capable of screaming out to share their agony with the rest of the world. Then, unexpectedly the room began to shake violently, increasing their pain tenfold. For that second, they wished their death to be instant, the pain was agonising and unnecessarily expanded to the point that Sharkie truly believed himself to be suffering greater pain than he had ever provided for anyone he had killed over the years. His pain now bringing tears to his eyes, and prayers for instant death. Then, for the first time in his long and ruthless life, he began to feel the fear of his own victims and broke into tears before passing out into a world of blackness,
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