Stewart's alarm began to buzz, sharply nudging him from the bliss of his euphoric dreamworld to the bleak reality of his day to day existence. He sat up in bed, rubbed his eyes, and reached over and grabbed the alarm. From outside the door came the howl of a thousand rabid banshees, echoing through the corridors into infinity, and sending an icicle of shock straight up Stewart's spine.
"No" he quietly mouthed. A small pounding quickly turned into a loud pounding, and suddenly there was a fat momma towering over Stewart's comparatively wiry frame, it having just bulldozed its way through the door. Stewart released his grasp on the clock, and it began to float gently downwards.
"Holy sh-" his words were cut off as the smash of glass on the ground combined with the crunch of bone above. Soon, a gentle squish as parts reached their final destination. And then the sucking sound of consumption.
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