King of Demons [EXCERPT]

Chapter Two

Rosalyn ran as hard as she could, pumping her legs against the uneven terrain. Her ridiculous fuzzy slippers caught on the ground, doing her no favours, and one slipped off, leaving one bare foot to smack against the rough forest floor.

She couldn't remember the last time she'd physically ran, and she found herself quickly out of breath despite the adrenaline pushing her muscles. Fear, pure, unadulterated fear, brought on by some kind of hell-beast with tentacles—TENTACLES?—trying to get her.

She tripped over a tree root and staggered forward, attempting to use the momentum to push back up straight, but failing spectacularly and landing hard on her arms. As the delicate skin of her forearms scraped against the rough forest floor, she was thankful that at least it wasn't her face. As she scrambled to her feet, losing her remaining slipper, she chanced a look over her shoulder and didn't see anything...but that didn't mean much considering the darkness of the canopy.

She realized then, in her deep huffs of breath, that she couldn't smell that rotten goopy scent that had been so prevalent when she was right close to the thing. Maybe it was too big to weave between the trees? Her heart leapt with hope, but she still didn't want to be out in the open air, prime pickings for whatever else was lurking around.

Rosalyn took off in the direction she'd originally been running, unsure of whether it was a smart move or not, but happy with the fact that it was at least in the opposite direction of that...thing. Her lungs burned with the strain of running so hard for so long, and she skidded to a stop next to the fattest tree trunk she'd ever seen in her life, the balls of her feet crying with the motion.

As she bent over to catch her breath, her calf muscles screaming at her, she slowly shuffled along, limping and huffing as she moved around the tree, guiding herself with her hands around the thick trunk. Her fingers closed around a dip in the bark, and she felt around frantically, realizing that there was an opening.

"The tree is hollow," she whispered, the reflex to monologue too strong and her panic so all-consuming that she didn't even stop to realize she was monologuing to nobody.

She wriggled her way through the opening, sliding into the large tree trunk and hoping beyond hope that there wasn't anything gross and sinister and hungry waiting inside. It had to be better than the thing chasing her, right?

As Rosalyn slumped against the inner wall of the tree, the ludicrous nature of what was happening in that moment hit her like a battering ram and she couldn't help the laugh bubbling up in her throat. She clamped a hand down over her mouth as she shook with hysterical laughter, sliding down the wall until she was sitting on the uneven floor of the little cavern.

She curled her legs up against her body, buying her face in her knees to catch her breath and stifle the madness threatening to explode from her, but her lungs constricted as soon as she closed her eyes and saw the chat.

The fucking chat. "What is happening?" she wheezed, text flying by her eyes.

She sat up in shock and looked around the inside of the tree, but the messages were gone. She whipped her head back and forth, as if she could catch it in her periphery somehow. She tentatively closed her eyes again, and there it was, behind her closed lids. The chat window from her streaming software.

"I'm dreaming," she said out loud, her voice quivering. "I fell asleep at my desk or something, and I'm dreaming, right?"

The messages flew by too quickly for her to read them, but she picked out words here and there.

A donation message popped up over the rest, and it was KC, clearly irritated.

KCxbone: How the hell did you set all this up without me knowing! When did you film this?