You were in 'the shit' now, literally.
"Fucking greywater," you sloshed onward, framing the yawning sewer ahead with a flickering flashlight.
Wading through filthy drainpipes wasn't your particular cup of tea - it gave you the fucking willies - but you were on an assignment.
Almost a dozen men had gone missing in the past two months; incredibly worrying for a place as small as Cunnie. Their disappearances were seemingly at random, though the last location of each individual shared a common trait: sewer grates.
No one connected the dots. No one seemed to care all that much, really; the quiet town engulfed in a amnesic miasma. Regardless, you swallowed your pride - and what may have been a fly - before pushing deeper into the fetid labyrinth, spurred by some terrible curiosity.
Your head throbbed, sensing some horrible anxiety beginning to set in, but was that so strange given the situation? The concrete corridors seemed to echo with malevolence, the walls compressing inward, threatening to devour you like a starved animal. From the darkness, a crooked tune began to stir, akin to some haunted parade tune; was that circus music?
There was a sudden, unnatural swell of mirth. You almost laughed aloud. It's not funny, you told yourself, yet the urge seemed to worm its way deeper into your brain. Why the hell did you feel this terrible compulsion to laugh? Your eyes pressed tight and you managed to shake the intrusive urges away, and with them, the clown-like tune began to fade.
Eventually you approached a grate. You shone the light down, finding the opening to seem impossibly deep. A musty smell wafted up, and you felt something wet and slimy brush against your leg. You jerked back, heart hammering in your chest. There was a noise from below, like the sound of a large dog panting. What would happen if you fell? What stirred in that cold void? The question terrified you, and your hands shook as they gripped the flashlight.
"Hello?" you called down, voice trembling. "Is someone there?"
"Nope!" came the reply, sounding like a very excited youngster; shimmering, amber points of light the only thing that peered up from the murky black.
You gulped, then called out again, louder, "W-What? Are you stuck? I can go get some help!"
A childish chuckle answered from the sludge-coated grill, followed by a maniacal snort, "Oh, I'm not stuck! Just teasing ya, silly! But you're welcome to come down here and play, too! We all play down here..."
The words were accompanied by a low, ominous growl, and you heard the scrape of claws on metal. You shivered, a sudden chill running up your spine; fuck this. Then again, were you gonna leave some kid in the sewers? You shook your head, trying to clear the cobwebs, and focused on the task at hand. You didn't want to be here any longer than necessary.
"Well," you said, voice quavering, "I'm gonna get you out..."
You took a deep breath, which you quickly regretted, and peeled the grate away for your descent. The stench hit you like a wall, and you choked back a gag. The light flickered wildly as you tried to steady yourself, and you felt a heavy weight land on your shoulders. The weight pushing you down, eliciting a startled yelp as you fell face first into the muck below.
"Oops," cooed a voice from above; you squinted up to a grinning face looking down at you. "Clumsy man fell, scared by a rat, and passed out for a spell!"
You blinked, trying to focus on the face, and realized it was a child. She was maybe eight or nine; short, scarlet hair that eerily matched the color of blood. Her skin was pale as if caked in powdery makeup, with glassy amber eyes that glowed in the dim light.
"Are you alright?" she asked, a feigned concern in her voice.
"Y-Yeah," you replied, your voice cracking. "Just a little... dizzy; what's your name?"
"My name? Quartercunny! At least me friends used to call me that; I don't have too many now." She mock pouted, her fake frown chaotically snapped to a cheery sneer, "Good thing you're here, mister! We can be friends!" A flash of teeth as she grinned crookedly.
"Uh, yeah, I guess," you replied, still shaken by the fall. "Fuck, where is my flashlight? It must've sunk into this mess..." It was nearly pitch black barring Quartercunny's gleaming gaze.
"No," she approached, pressing her white-gloved hands against your lap; they were in absolute tatters and speckled with rusty droplets. "It probably floated down there, towards my 'home'; we all float down here, mister." The light of her eyes reeled you in, as if some dying light that called unto you like a moth to the flame; such soothing light.
"We all float down here..." A saliva-spattered slur slipped from your lips.
Quartercunny's pearly grin expanded, emphasizing sharp incisors, "Yep, we all float..."