By KC Grifant
The quivering masses bobbed above the shipwreck, trailing a plum-colored cloud.
Maggie tapped on her underwater camera. With the warming ocean temperatures, jellies were reproducing at unprecedented rates, spawning never before seen species.
It was beautiful until tentacles wrenched off her snorkeling mask. She kicked upwards but felt both electrified and numb. Neurotoxins, she thought. Her mind glommed around an emphatic declaration:
Each flick of the buzzing tentacles onto her face imparted a new vision: massive jellies swallowed ships, clogged harbors, suffocated whole cities. Her throat gasped, desperate.
The continents sparkled with purple dust, the seas liquid amethyst.
Bio: KC Grifant writes horror, fantasy and sci-fi, with a particular focus on emerging technologies, biomedicine and mythology. Her work has appeared in the Lovecraft Ezine, Electric Spec and two anthologies, What Has Two Heads, Ten Eyes, and Terrifying Table Manners? and Frightmare: Women who Write Horror.