We starred at the seemingly innocuous block of upholstery foam, cautiously silent, growing more ill at ease with every passing minute. For we knew that just beneath the soft exterior lay a horror so terrible it dare not be acknowledged, as if acceptance of it would challenge our already teetering sanity. Nevertheless, the terror was about to be freed from its plush prison for without it we could not film our tome of terror thus inducing an apocalyptic shockwave across our known universe. In our party was the producer Jessica, co-writer/actor Matt, and my partner Amanda. The team stood steady, blades poised, waiting on my instruction.
“So how do we do this?” asked Jess.
“Take a piece of foam and remove anything that doesn’t look like a claw,” I replied.
Earlier we had eaten a sacrificial feast of raw fish and rice downed with copious quantities of Dutch vodka. We hoped this meal would please That Which Lies Below and that the spirits would dull our conscious minds, that we may relinquish control so the old ones may enter our bodies and guide our hands. Failing that, at least we’d be totally loaded and filled with false-confidence. Here’s where we netted out.