By every definition, you were going through a midlife crisis. It didn’t help that your boss had fired you on a whim for some Ivy League snob fresh out of college, nor did the eviction notice currently taped outside your apartment door. You sat at your desk with two slips of paper in front of you—life’s last two lemons. The slip on your right was a general application for an IT position back at your old school, and the other was a neatly handwritten letter from Josh. From what you could tell, he had gone off the deep end since high school—no texts, calls, or even a damn postcard until today.
The contents were full of red flags: asking for money, promising considerable returns on your investment, and even having the gall to pledge "unwavering religious clarity." You scoffed at the bottom text: "With love, Brother Ohlson..." Who the hell does he think I am? It felt almost disrespectful how little effort was put into this little scheme. However, one thing still boggled your mind: Why now? Why, on possibly the worst day you’ve had in recent memory, would this letter arrive now?
Curiously, you typed in the website for donations. It was filled with some of the strangest religious insignias and artwork you’d ever seen. Passages from old works of H.P. Lovecraft were displayed across the site, most notably referring to the summoning of Cthulhu and the end of humanity. Your curiosity peaked. You decided to give a small donation from what little savings you had. After entering your address and credit card information, a message flashed on the screen announcing that a delegation had been dispatched to thank you in person.
“Hahaha!” You couldn’t help but laugh. Josh, or "Brother Ohlson," was either a real member of a death cult or perhaps the greatest scam artist on Earth. You closed out of the website and returned to the application on your desk. Not ten minutes went by before you heard a single knock on the door.
Your blood ran cold. Could it really be them already? Rising to your feet, you quickly cleared some of the clutter from the floor and cautiously answered the door. Before you even had a chance to greet your guests, three cloaked figures entered your living room.
“What the fuck? You just come barging into someone’s house like you own the place?” The middle figure stepped forward, unveiling their hood.
“Josh!? I—I thought you were scamming me. What’s going on here?” you stammered. His face was laced with peculiar tattoos that traced his neck and jaw.
“Brother Ohlson will do. Tony, please sit down. You’ve been chosen as a beneficiary for our chapter. Only say the word, and we shall make it happen.”
“Wait, wait. I don’t understand. Say what word? Why me?” Josh only looked at you, his gaze powerful, locking onto yours. You couldn’t help but stare back, something oddly captivating. Before you knew it, you’d pulled up a chair from behind you and sat down.
“Our god is a graceful one, one who rewards devotion. Thanks to your—” His eyes darted down to a phone tucked away in his sleeve. “Twelve dollars and fifteen cents, he will grant you one wish of whatever your heart desires.”
Despite Josh’s lofty words, your mind couldn’t help but drift through visions of realities where you were Uber-wealthy, invincible, and the smartest person alive. But one vision in particular kept circling back again and again until it was the only thing you could think about. What if you were the size of an ant?
At a whopping height of 5'2", you had always been the shortest among everyone you knew, let alone your family. As such, you’d quickly developed a love for taller women and, eventually, the idea of being super small, surrounded by giants. Even if these crazies were for real, it was practically suicide to wish for such a thing. Nevertheless, it was all you wanted—an easy way out to indulge yourself or die trying.
Josh’s looming words snapped you out of your daydream. Your mind was now completely made up, whether you liked it or not. “Ah, it seems you’ve got your wish. Understand that once we begin, there is no going back. Do you understand?”
Almost involuntarily, your head nodded in agreement. You couldn’t disappoint Josh now.
“Let us begin.” The other two figures uncloaked themselves: an elderly man who looked far too old to be alive, and a young woman of incredible beauty, beyond comprehension, as if she had transcended humanity itself.
“Brace yourself, Tony,” Josh warned, as he and the pair behind him began to chant. The language was vile, each strange word made up of the foulest sounds the human mouth could produce. You covered your throbbing ears as warm blood began trickling down your hands. Just as the sound became unbearable, the sky darkened, your hearing went silent, and the world outside stopped spinning.
The chanters stopped as all four of you peered outside the window at a still world.
“What happened?” Josh paused before answering.
“I—I don’t know,” he stammered.
Your blood boiled, and you grabbed his trembling frame by the shoulders. “What do you mean, you don’t know?!”
His eyes stayed glued to the window as a heavy wind blew leaves off branches and stones off the ground. “Th-This never happened before. I mean, for us, we just woke up the next morning, but this... What did you wish for?”
Before you could answer, the roof exploded overhead.
Hurricane winds tore apart your building, carrying bits and pieces up into the swirling vortex above. You ducked under your living room table while the three cultists fell to their knees, praising the primeval storm brewing overhead. Your cover didn’t last long, as the table was ripped off the ground and torn to pieces! A dark veil eclipsed the eye of the storm, and from the darkness, you could just barely make out three slender tendrils reaching through the void. As they got closer, you could see their slimy green flesh, riddled with ripple marks and scarred runic symbols lining their underbellies. The tendrils slowly wrapped around what was left of your apartment, constricting around the four of you.
Your back slammed into the sticky surface as your struggling body collided with the cultists. The tendrils tightened around you, growing more suffocating by the second. Something had to give. The cultists didn’t stand a chance. The elderly man was twisted and contorted until his body slipped out under the mass, lost to the growing void. The other two cultists weren’t so lucky; their bodies eventually buckled under the otherworldly pressure and shattered into each other.
Alone and covered head to toe in blood and mucus, you screamed up at the monster above as it slowly reeled you into its domain. You rose slowly at first, then faster and faster, until you were launched at blinding speed into the abyss. Your skin burned, your heart rate skyrocketed—like a car engine, its BPM in the thousands. Until it stopped. You literally felt your heart explode inside your chest. Seconds later, your vision went black.
Like waking up from a night terror, you fell forward, screaming. All around you was silence, and the ground beneath you felt oddly soft. As your eyes adjusted to the darkness, you saw the intricate pattern of woven fabric beneath you, but the threads were far too large. Your eyes slowly gazed up and out, taking in the blurry space around you. Some basic geometric structures formed in the background—what looked like a giant glass table, a large black rectangle spanning miles in width, and the monolith you were on: a series of equally gargantuan squares of stuffed fabric.
Your jaw dropped, and you nearly fainted. Whatever beast had taken you—Cthulhu or not—had made good on its word. You were the size of an ant.
Somehow, even stranger, this looked like your apartment, only completely intact. You could even make out the small figure of Josh's card that had been slipped under your door earlier today. If it was now a couple of hours in the past, then this was where you were when you came home, slouched on the couch, stuffing your depressed face with chips.
Sure enough, when you looked down at the thin carpet below, a massive bag of chips rested there, its contents spilled out across the floor. Survival instincts kicked in. You knew you’d need food, water, and shelter eventually, and since you lived alone, you'd have a good amount of time to yourself before your landlord came barging in. You decided to make a game plan before you got too far ahead of yourself. The five best choices you had were:
View Portfolio
Visit Notebook
Send Gift Points
Awards
Badges
Send Email
Community Newsfeed
General Discussion
Sponsored Items
Book of Trinkets
Static Items
Books
Groups
Interactive Stories
Audio
Campfire Creatives
Community Notes
Crossword Puzzles
Documents
Folders
Images
In & Outs
Madlibs
Photo Albums
Polls
Product Reviews
Quizzes
Survey Forms
Web Pages
Word Searches
More by this author