Yokai Red

Sneezle dangled haphazardly from the side of the cliff by one scrawny red arm. His stubby little fingers buried deep into the base of a stubborn branch that had spent years developing, only to have this lazy little shit cling to it. Sneezles' other arm was mangled and filled with metal shrapnel. Now it was a useless pulp. If the branch could discern the character of what it saved, it would let him go. Below, smoke twisted and curled from the grenadine explosions. Chunks of goblin guts, rock, and poorly thought-out decisions littered the green valley. Sneezle felt his stomach answer with a wet, miserable borborygmus. “I ain’t eaten in fuk'n days,” Sneezle muttered. “Once I climb up, I’m gonna eat a goblin leg. Plen’t of them layin’ around.” He licked all three rows of jagged yellowish teeth. Just then, a shiny black bizwib beetle crawled into sight, fat as a female goblin heavy with a litter of 100 fodder—the juicy bizwib glimmering with emerald elytra. Sneezle’s stomach growled once more. "Shut up, feed you soon." He laughed. He smiled at his luck. Then he let go of the branch to grab this juicy obsidian snack that hissed at him. “Fuc…” Sneezle vanished down Sh’mole. His body bounced, cracked, and folded against the jagged rocks below. The bizwib opened its emerald wings, buzzed once, and flew off into the mist, uneaten and deeply unimpressed.