NEW FICTION: the creature.
The creature shifted across his brow, snaked through his eyes - wide open as usual - then slid up into his skull, sitting sturdy, sealed to the underside of his cranium, the cathedral dome of his being, of his drifting, distracted maker. He shifted in his bucket seat, making himself comfortable, allowing the creature to grow, or fester - whichever seemed the most appropriate for the moment. He sat quietly - patience was everything. At first there was nothing. Nothing. More nothing. But then voices, voices murmuring inside his skull. There was a language, an identity, but he couldn't make this one out - it was different, strange, it had an unusual resonance. He was a connoisseur by now, so many visitations - from a small child onwards, so he knew how these things worked.
He rocked a little - to and fro, not enough to unseat the creature that was cradling his skull, trying to make itself comfortable, secure, but he needed to do enough to comfort himself as well.
He could no longer see anything outward, his eyes were fully glazed. So he had no idea what was going on in the outside world, whether he was drawing attention, but it didn't really matter anymore, everything was now inside, and inside was now alive with a multitude of voices that bounced off the inner walls of his skull. He tried to hone in, as always, on one frequency, one tangled voice that he could make sense of. There was nothing, nothing, then far off he heard a voice, a singular strain amongst the atonal cacophony. It was slow, but was inevitably drifting towards him. It wasn't recognisable yet, just a regular thump, a regular rhythm. It wasn't human, but it tried its best through a slow manipulation, to appear so. It mumbled through its distortions, but there was little to make sense of. But he was patient, as he had learned to be over the years of his life that the invasions had used up. And eventually, by honing in on that one singular vibration, honing onto the regular rhythms of the voice, he understood. He knew what was being said, had half known since the invasion of the creature began.
"Nathaniel?" The space of a pulse, a heartbeat, then "Nathaniel?" Then over and over again, the steady thump of the word running through his body - "Nathaniel? Nathaniel? Nathaniel?" He understood what was expected of him, so he physically nodded his head slightly. An unnecessary act, but it was the comfort of resignation that his body needed, if not of his now occupied skull. Nathaniel automatically relaxed. The result was immediate. He felt hot urine fill his lap. He sighed a little - it had started.
