You are Wallace Whitehorse, an acclaimed private detective who was granted a generous length of leave from your agency. Curiously, you received a letter informing you about a completely pre-paid trip to a place called The Red Spiral. It turned out to be a holiday resort on a tropical island, though you and the twenty-two other guests soon discovered there were no staff at all present, only unusual red mannequins in their place. When you touched one of them, you suffered a sudden seizure and awoke having been escorted to the emergency room by a kindly guest of the medical profession, Nicholas. While unconscious, you had a horrid dream about red tendrils grabbing a man. A dream that proved to instead be a prophetic vision.

Most of the guests were out on the beach, and then the spiraling coils descended, snatching people up. While that was happening, you witnessed the mannequins moving around like living creatures, many of them pouring out onto the beach. You warned one or two of your compatriots, snapping them out of their transfixion on the skywards beings, but were grabbed yourself. After an ultimately futile struggle, you passed out into the world of darkness and woke later that night, face buried in the sand. That is where our story continues, with you sitting up to address the unearthly occurrences that you and the others have just felt...

Previous Thread: https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/2022/5338893/