26th November 2261: Didnae git much sleep last nicht sae went a wee dauner roon the dome, tryin no tae trodd oan ony slummers.
Foond sum eldritch craiturs shufflin aboot a pen, tucked awiy ahint sum barriers. Ma furst glisk made me hink they wur dairy coos ae auld, but the langer A gyped the mair A realised thur sumhin awthegither different — a mixter-maxter jummle ae pairts. Scaly skin, three humps oan thur backs, an a wispy, brichtly colourt tail. Each ae thum’s goat sax or eicht legs, sum even mair! Stieve muckle beasts, sae they are.
Whit are they? Indigenous tae the planet? Sumhoo doot that — as A hink A’ve mentioned awreadie, THAIR’S NUTHIN OOT THAIR! Insteid, A jalouse they wur conjurt up in a test tube by UNIT’s boffins. Either wiy, they seem cuddand craiturs, least when left alane. They hud the chance tae gorble us up last nicht and, weel, wur aw still here!
Written as part of #Scotstober2022 on Twitter (26th October — “stieve”)
