Ludvig Nilsson

  It’s fear you never knew someone could feel. A chill down to your core and limbs trembling so bad you can’t even open the car door and run. The sight is unbelievable, too inhumane for the brain to process. It can only take fragments to make sense of, like its familiar reptile-like texture, surely tough and borderline indestructible. If you touched it, it would likely not feel a thing. In the same way you can shave a horse’s hoof like it’s wood, attach a shoe with nails and a hammer. Painless, like it’s not really alive. Its legs look like giant arrows, and they’re big enough to be dull to the touch but deadly if they pierced you. It would need a stabilizing surface or adhesion to be able to climb like that too, to cling to the fence that way. It's otherworldly how it’s challenging gravity, considering the size of it. “Catch the game last night?” You snap your head around. “What?” He looks at you through the rear-view mirror, the amused smile on his lips dying as soon as he sees y...