Deafening: Cthulhu is a Kaiju

The roar of the rampaging kaiju was deafening. My high-rise penthouse shimmied in a grotesque earthquake ballet.

There was something alien about the creature's presence, both petrifying in its mass and otherworldly in its form. A 500-foot tall winged horror that resembled nothing so much as an abominal, squid-faced nightmare writhing and dripping and maddeningly wrong.

Panic threatened to drown me; I was gasping for every breath. As I watched, the squamous terror surged forth against the beachfront and I couldn't help but picture the tenebrous depths within which this abomination made its lair beneath the suffocating waves of the deepest part of the ocean.

“Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn."

In my head, the visions came in a blur set against that keening chant, maddeningly clear and seemingly on repeat: serrated teeth like broadswords, ragged fur where no creature should have fur, scales like an oilslick on the water. My inner eye was dizzy with ancient knowledge, forbidden to the fragile human psyche. I heard something like a branch snapping -- no! -- like a full tree bole being snapped in half, a thundering crack as my mind broke under the psychic strain of viewing the vile, horned, batrachian monster.

Sanity mutated into an aberration of stygian nightmares galloping across the desert plane of my parched tongue. Kaiju's armored psyche left no space for humanity to be the predator, only prey.