Its giant tentacles embraced the building, squeezing its crumbled walls, its weathered naps sucking the life out of the structure while at the same time breathing it into existence.
The thing had been dormant for many years but the wrecking balls and bulldozers that had come to tear down the office block had awoken it from its slumber. It looked like a scene from a Lovecraft story: an Old One leaving its mark on the city while the commuters couldn’t help but glance at its majesty on their way to the train station.
Jimmy was one of those in awe. The kid had been picked up from school by his hurried dad but insisted on taking a short breather on the pavement across from the decrepit office building. He wanted to admire this son of Cthulhu from up close. Wanted to touch its curvy tentacles that reached all the way from the stone rubble on the ground floor to the cracked toilets seven stories higher. He wanted to know where it came from and how long it had been dormant, forgotten by all but its creator.
Jimmy wanted to know all this and more but above all he wanted to walk into the nearest hardware store, buy a dozen spray cans and start practicing to become as brilliant a street artist as the one that had decades ago painted this ominous octopus on an office building wall.
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