The Black Sentry by William Bernhardt

Its ghoulish exterior was covered by a glassy, revolting, gelatinous skin. It had no eyes as such, but two luminous green lights protruding from each side of what must have been the monstrosity’s head. It seemed neither plant nor animal, or perhaps both. It was mostly brown and green, and its outer covering was sinuous like ivy, but almost completely covered with oozing black pustules. Worst of all was its slavering, lipless mouth—an immense wet maw.
    The creature slithered forward leaving a fetid black trail of slime in its wake.
    Just looking at the monster made his blood run cold. The Creeper had two limbs, or tendrils, perhaps, that writhed above it as it slithered along the ground.
    How it propelled itself was not immediately apparent . Perhaps there were short legs on the underside of the body. All he knew was that it did move, and fairly quickly at that.
    He gasped as he saw the Creeper’s long green tendril-tail, many times the length of its body and easily long enough to strike a full-grown man in the face.
    “It’s the tail that kills,” the Old Man explained. “Once it has you close, there’s no man fast enough to escape it.”
    “Is it deadly?”
    The Old Man nodded. “It can be. A direct hit with its stinger will produce a painful death within an hour. Even a glancing blow can cause days or weeks of sustained agony or blindness, and can produce scars and welts that never disappear.” He paused. “I’ve seen many a good man and woman fall to the tail of a Creeper. Many a comrade.”
    “There are more of you ? Rebels, I mean.”
    “Later. ” The Old Man’s eyes focused on the ground.
    The Creeper stopped just beneath their tree. He watched as it moved its tentacles all around the tree.
    The Creeper had detecte d them.
    “What can we do?”
    The Old Man did not answer. He searched the neighboring trees, but none was close enough to reach. They could jump down, but they could not jump far enough to escape the Creeper’s whip-like tail. There was nothing they could do.
    They were trapped.

 
     
     
     
    8
     
    Daman watched the Creeper slither around the tree, whirling its tentacles. Its tail suddenly lashed out, faster than his eye could follow. It grabbed the lowest branch of the tree, just as they had done.
    He watched in terrified amazement as the quivering creature hoisted itself into the air.
    T here were no higher branches to which they could climb.
    The Creeper waved its tendrils, targeting the next branch. If it mounted that branch, it would be close enough to strike them with its tail.
    He was being punished, he thought, just as he was warned he would be. He had violated the Laws and Ways of the Sentinel by blaspheming, aiding the Old Man, and crossing the village fence. Now he would pay the penalty. He had been a fool and now he would die for it. Worse, this Old Man, who had lived so long, would come to a futile, pointless death.
    H e started to ask the Old Man a question, but the man silenced him with a harsh look.
    He heard loud laughter from the other side of the fence. Probably to relieve their anxiety, the Sentry were telling tales—loud, boisterous jokes.
    Just as the Creeper prepared to grasp the second branch, it stopped. Its front tentacles circled around and reached out toward the fence.
    The creature paused for a moment, then descended. It hit the ground in a matter of seconds and slithered toward the fence.
    Had the Creeper determined that the victims over there were more attractive than the two in the tree? The insurmountable fence that stood between it and its new prey apparently did not register.
    “The Creeper has no eyes, not as we do,” the Old Man whispered. “It sees with its frontal antennae. And it does not have true sight. It only touches and hears and detects motion.” The Creeper whirled its tail into the air, but it was not long enough to reach the top of the fence.
    The Creeper hit the fence, pounding with its tentacles, making it sway. The Sentry fell