Imagine seeing the Organ Reaper's first victim slide down its gullet in twitches of movements and smothered screams for an easier death. Watching paralyzed as the monster descends on you, squirming pregnant pink slimy insides pumping toxic blood through translucent veins. Its mouth slipping open to swallow you whole, primordial poisons wafting from the dank cavernous tomb of the Reaper's body. There is no escape, it cannot be outrun, or fought, or reasoned with. Your death is certain. The monster lunges, hooked teeth dig deep into your fragile human form, ringing out clarity and carving out pain. It's like falling upwards, slipping and gripping your way through its throat, deeper into the red and warm.
The experience that follows cannot be described, but I assure you that it takes far too long to die, poisonous senses stifle the brain, membranous tissue binds you, rancid acid saturates your skin as you struggle to breath. Helplessly you feel the first victim still weakly gasping, trying to scream, or perhaps he has given up crying for help and now only begs to be shat out quicker.
Trapped within the monster, your lungs sputter while gasping for something to say. Your body flickers, arching, and sobbing for home in the dark depths, entwined with the eternal frame of death while the creature draws precious strength from your coming lifelessness.
There is something fundamentally terrifying about being eaten. An electric shock of fear that we so rarely experience, having long ago firmly established ourselves as pinnacle of the planet's food chain. This pure primordial horror crops up occasionally, Shark attacks, a few choice monster movies, the creatures squirmed up from dark and stormy nightmares that dwell outside your bedroom window or wait under the bed (we never really outgrow our monsters, just learn to ignore them)
It is a fear forged from helplessness, striking right to the root of our animal psychology. The concept behind this creature sketch was founded in that fear, the fear of being consumed. I wanted to design a monster that not only looked capable of consuming human prey, but relished the notion.
This officially kicks off my "drawing a day" project.
The trench scorpion is distantly related to terrestrial scorpions. While most of the eurypterid sea scorpions of the Ordovician either went extinct or evolved to live on land, one species has remained in the inky blackness of the Mariana Trench where it has eluded scientific discovery until recently. This sea scorpion uses a bioluminous lure which grows on one of a pair of antennae. When the trench scorpion senses movement near the lure, it strikes with its venomous stinger and grabs its prey with formidable pincers. The creature has the peculiar habit of walking backwards on the trench floor, and since it has long ago lost its eyes in the black abyss, it looks very much as though its "tail" is actually its "head."