The Crulture: A Project Spellcheck Short Story

When plotting his trek through the jungles of Dampton, Meeko assumed that the worst thing he’d have to worry about was an ambush by some resident goblins—nothing he hadn’t been able to deal with thanks to his budding talents as a neophyte magician.

The ambush arrived as if right on queue amidst heavy rain and roaring thunder, but neither he nor the goblins in search of food and knick-knacks to plunder accounted for the chance that something else was nearby, plotting an ambush all its own.

From the treetops it dropped, going for the easy pickings the goblins proved to be. Meeko was unfamiliar with the creature, but Pashmina’s scream of realization made it clear what they were dealing with.

“CRULTURE!!!”

The next thing Meeko knew, he was sprinting along jungle floor right alongside the goblins and all the other critters of the wilds away from the fearsome monstrosity.

Though he had never seen one before, he could at least recall crultures from Koronius’s textbooks and scribbles, as well as the nightmarish campfire tales the fae children would share during his brief time living amongst the hive under the old magician’s tutelage. They were apparently ghoulish creatures, always hungry for flesh, but craving the blissful taste of fairy flesh and dust most of all.

For fear that his dear little friend would be lost in the barrage of raindrops, or worse, snapped up in an instant by another surprise attack, he clutched Pashmina like a lover’s locket tight to his chest. Having lost her wits to panic, she did nothing but oblige and indulge in whatever feeling of security his hands could possibly bring.

Meeko couldn’t be sure that he was outrunning the beast while he could still hear the popping sound of it traversing the branches far above him, but any hope he had that he could was killed by slipping on an unforeseen slope. Losing balance, Meeko was forced to skid and slide to avoid an embarrassing, potentially life-ending tumble. Stopped for the first time since crossing the beast, he felt every fiber of himself at war as to what he should do. Could he continue running? Was there anywhere to run? Could he trust the rain shower to mask his scent? Only then did Meeko turn to hope that if he could not outrun the beast, he could dare to outwit it.

There was hardly any time to think, Meeko realizedtime to think, Meeko realized, as he found the scattered horde of goblins catching up to him. With nowhere else to turn, he ran for the makeshift shelter of a nearby shrub beside the massive trunk of a fallen tree.

Though he hoped they would be safe, Meeko, made certain to adjust himself so he would be ready to spring off at the drop of a hat. All the while, he held Pashmina nice and tight, making sure she was neither squished nor exposed.

Looking at Pashmina, , Meeko thought to himself all the things she’d probably say if she had the words: “Careful! Or else you’ll get yourself stuck, then we’ll both be easy pickings!” Or perhaps something more scathing: “You call this a hiding spot, dunderhead!? You may as well have just dug a six-foot hole while you were at it!” Rampant as her commentary could be, it was hardly an adventure without it, and he even found focus and resolve through the sound of her voice.

But the Pashmina he held firm was not the Mina he was used to. The endless minutes of ceaseless downpour and terror both had, quite literally washed the spritely pink color from her bright complexion and glittery hair. All that remained was a hollow, grayish vitiation of her usual cheery glow with hardly peep from her mouth or even a fervorous buzz from her wings.

A sudden wet thud from nearby compelled Pashmina to squeeze to Meeko for dear life

“I-i-is it…” she tried to say with chattering teeth, too afraid to turn and look

But it was not what she had feared. Instead, it was merely a clumsy goblin, separated from his ilk and humiliated by a clumsy tumble over the same uneven ground that nearly did in Meeko.

“Just one of those goblins,” he assured her. “If nothing happens to it, that means we’re safe.”

Pashmina only replied with a worried grunt of acknowledgement, leaving the duty of observation to Meeko. If only he could tell her how scared he really was, but for the sake of them both, he couldn’t afford to give any suggestion that he would ever waver.

The goblin in the open paced about, turning its head every way it could bend; it seemed just as desperate as Meeko and Pashmina to find respite from the wicked creature that confounded them. After seconds of peace and silence save the pattering rain, the goblin breathed a congested sigh of relief.

But then, that infernal noise as the wet and oozy crulture collided with high up branches, followed by a long, deep, echoing croak. The goblin panicked once again before pathetically clinging to a stump for cover.

But the slapping continued, again, and again, and again. Over, and over, and over.

For a moment, it paused, and it felt the world itself had frozen in anticipation…

And then, a putrid boom across the jungle floor, and a mere picosecond of pained screaming. The crulture had caught yet another prey.

The clatter shook Meeko and Pashmina both, the former jolting wildly while the latter gasped, throwing herself deeper into Meeko’s arms. The two could only watch in horror as the horrible beast emerged with the lifeless goblin held firmly within its wide, toothless maw.

Watching the crulture in motion was like watching a nightmare you never realized you had come to life. Its entire body, coated in thick mucus, was camouflaged in a pattern of sickly, slimy greens and yellows. Its hind legs powerful enough to launch the bizarre creature through the trees like a sentient arrow were nothing compared to the prolonged, oversized palms and fingers of its forearms that slammed down upon prey to life-snuffing effect. The crulture had all these frightening tools at its disposal, yet all the crulture needed to feed was crunch the goblin up one bite at a time, until it was tenderized enough to go right down its gullet whole.

Once the crulture had finished its meal, its beady eyes rotated back and forth in its socket. After a few seconds of it flaring its nostrils, its head twisted in Meeko’s direction, seemingly trying to home in on its next snack. Its slow steps directly towards them all but confirmed it was on the right track.

That meant there was only one way out left: the magician’s way.

“Hold tight Mina,” Meeko said, convincing himself of his own bravery. Without giving her time to do anything, she threw Pashmina into his soaked, slinking magicians cap, then crammed the hat as deep into the bush as he possibly could without bringing unnecessary harm to her. With little time to act, Meeko crawled his way out of the bush, exposing himself in the hopes that he could keep the beast from ever catching on to Pashmina.

The creature lunged directly at Meeko as though foreseeing where the boy was going to be. It was all but certain doom for Meeko, but monopolizing his fears, he clapped his hands to produce a burst of wind magic, not to strike the beast, but simply blast himself out of its reach.

As the crulture tried to get its bearings, Meeko chose to strike, barraging it with a stream of razor emerald streaks. Just as when he tried before at the onset of the encounter, the magic simply bounced off the beast’s hide, but his pestering was far too much for it to ignore. Again, the irritated crulture lunged, and again, Meeko used his wind magic to evade.

But just as Meeko thought he might go unscathed, a sharp force searing as sandpaper shredded the skin of his right arm. Looking down, he saw a gruesome, scrape-like wound across his bicep, courtesy of the crulture’s long, lashing tongue. He would have no doubt suffered a second injury to its surprise maneuver, but wind magic proved ever the lifesaver as it sent the tongue bouncing away like a strand of loose snot.

The crulture braced itself to leap for the decisive strike, meaning Meeko’s one and only shot was about to come barreling before him. His timing would need to be perfect. His heart would need to be without a single shade of uncertainty. He would catch this beast unawares, or he would die trying, hoping that his sacrifice at least would Mina a fighting chance.

In his heart, Meeko called on fueling thoughts: hatred of the crulture, fear of all his dreams going to waste, worry for his closest friend, and the desperation to live on. Altogether, Meeko grasped at them, wringing them for all they were worth, until he could feel it in his clenched fists as a handful of sparks, allowing them to gather unseen within himself, ready to be unleashed.

And when the moment came for the crulture to leap, let it all loose. All he would ever remember of that moment is being swallowed in an explosion of blinding, bursting light while he suffered the feeling of being burned and frozen all at once.

For some time, there was nothing for Meeko but a white flash. No other sights, sounds, or single sensations. But then, after perhaps the longest minute Meeko had ever experienced, he began to smell… burning. The burning of something very smelly. Then the sight of gray and black and the feeling of icy wetness across his whole body.

Realizing he was alive and awake, he jutted up with a dreadful gasp, and was just as quickly met with a familiar pink silhouette whizzing right toward him.

“You’re… you’re finally up!” Pashmina said, relieved beyond measure.

“I’m…” Meeko groaned, caught between grogginess and a lingering tingling feeling. “How long was I—”

But Meeko’s mindless inquiries were cast aside by a far graver concern than his own well-being.

“The Crulture!”

Meeko tried getting up, but Pashmina, seemingly back to her usual self, waved her arms to keep him from overexerting.

“Relax, Meeks! Just… just relax. Deep breaths, ok?” she told him. “Just… take a look.”

Pashmina hovered to the side and pointed to the crulture, some plentiful yards away from where he had been resting. With strained eyes, he saw the freakish being reduced to a crispy, motionless cadaver.

“See Meeks? It’s good and dead, Meeks. Everything’s alright,” she reassured him.

It took Meeko’s fizzled brain a few moments to register Pashmina’s words and the crulture’s husk, but once he did, a wave of relief finally washed over him. Pashmina seemed to be waiting for that exact moment to come before proceeding to send him right back down to the ground from a forceful kick from the world’s smallest pair of shoes.

“YOU ROTTING MORON!” She screamed. “We were told COUNTLESS times that shooting lightning magic in the rain is practically suicide for novice magicians! So what if you killed that freaky thing if it meant I was stuck in the woods all by myself!? And what if there was another one!? Then I’d be dead anyway!”

Pashmina continued to shout down Meeko as thanks for his daring heroics, but as Meeko tried to get back up, all he saw was the fairy looming over him, shaking her whole body ceaselessly in a fit of raw fury. Seeing Pashmina’s color and personality restored to their usual glory, he found himself falling back into the mud all on his own with a relaxed sigh.

“Hey! Are you even listening!?” She asked, reasonably baffled at Meeko’s response to her lecture.

“Loud and clear, Mina,” Meeko said with a wide, self-certain grin. “Keep going. I promise I’m listening.”