Kaya
A ghoul.
Now that I've seen one before, I recognize it instantly. Maybe the first time, my perception was clouded by shock—but this time, there's no mistaking what I'm looking at. It doesn't appear as a formless, floating mass like before. No, this one is a fully-formed creature.
And its appearance is horrifying.
The ghoul before me towers tall, its body skeletal and grotesque. A long, bald head stretches over a sunken face, with two empty hollows where eyes should be—black voids that seem to stare right through me. Its mouth gapes wide, filled with four jagged rows of teeth, each one glistening with black, viscous saliva. The jaw pulses open and shut, as if sucking the very air into its rotting lungs.
It stands on two malformed feet, its long, brittle legs bent at unnatural angles, the joints twisted in opposite directions. Its chest juts forward, grotesquely broad, with strips of ashen, leathery skin hanging down like torn rags.
