Prompt for May 2: Four Lines of Prose about the Sucker


[Prompt from .]

He was still as cute as the day I first made him, my little monster. I watched from my low position on high as his deep red eyes—the color of coral in darkness—stared intently at his prey frantically splashing in the water. I smiled as my little terror, grown so fast from the bubble of joy he had been at his creation, wrap that man in his tentacles and give a squeeze. He then placed his mouth on the man’s horror-stricken face and began to suck the years right out of him.


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