HOME | DD

Description

As requested by a fan.

At dawn the temple made no sound. Felt no stirring. Heard no cries. Silent, the sunlight lay softly over towers, lighting the pediment. Chiseled in stone were the cycles of the Great Worm. That tentacled beast, dormant now from a sacrifice fulfilled.

Efpathís is what the townspeople called Courtney, though she didn't know what it meant. They were a strange folk, with a weird gloom over them. Almost depressed. She guessed not having modern technology would do that to a person.

She had visited the small village after hearing of an ancient relaxation technique that was rumored to cure everything from stress to, to pimples, to encouraging soft skin. In the stone bathhouse where she was told to go she had found the procedure exceedingly ticklish, especially under her arms and on her foot bottoms. She simply could not stand it.

She had apologized profusely, and refused any further treatment despite protests of the practitioner. However, after leaving, for some strange reason word had spread. The whole thing seemed to excite those poor villagers. Maybe they had just never met an American girl before who spoke her mind?

When she went to sleep that night she kept hearing a word over and over again, as if the whole village was quietly chanting.

Efpathís

Efpathís

Efpathís

That night, she learned of an ancient horror few mortals had ever known. A monster from the deep, forgotten by most of the world. Every year, the villagers had to appease that dreaded terror or risk ruination and death. And every year they found an appropriate sacrifice, but never one this perfect, this ideal. For it only coveted one thing and one thing above all else.

The ticklish.

Description

As requested by a fan.

At dawn the temple made no sound. Felt no stirring. Heard no cries. Silent, the sunlight lay softly over towers, lighting the pediment. Chiseled in stone were the cycles of the Great Worm. That tentacled beast, dormant now from a sacrifice fulfilled.

Efpathís is what the townspeople called Courtney, though she didn't know what it meant. They were a strange folk, with a weird gloom over them. Almost depressed. She guessed not having modern technology would do that to a person.

She had visited the small village after hearing of an ancient relaxation technique that was rumored to cure everything from stress to, to pimples, to encouraging soft skin. In the stone bathhouse where she was told to go she had found the procedure exceedingly ticklish, especially under her arms and on her foot bottoms. She simply could not stand it.

She had apologized profusely, and refused any further treatment despite protests of the practitioner. However, after leaving, for some strange reason word had spread. The whole thing seemed to excite those poor villagers. Maybe they had just never met an American girl before who spoke her mind?

When she went to sleep that night she kept hearing a word over and over again, as if the whole village was quietly chanting.

Efpathís

Efpathís

Efpathís

That night, she learned of an ancient horror few mortals had ever known. A monster from the deep, forgotten by most of the world. Every year, the villagers had to appease that dreaded terror or risk ruination and death. And every year they found an appropriate sacrifice, but never one this perfect, this ideal. For it only coveted one thing and one thing above all else.

The ticklish.