These Octopus Kites Are Nightmare Fuel

by TeachThought Staff

There are good kites and there are bad kites.

And then there are octopus kites.

A ‘good kite’ would be something like the one Benjamin Franklin flew. Whether we evaluate its quality by its flying performance or its historical significance, that’s one amazing kite.

A ‘bad kite’ would be the one you can’t get off the ground at the park and you start to notice other parents judging you so you have to ‘try again next time’ and take your kids for ice cream instead.

A truly awful kite is this streaming nightmare–a heinous, black monstrosity whose limbs move like terrifyingly-large amoeba. And since it’s Halloween in the United States, let’s talk about it for a second.

If an extraterrestrial/alien species ever discovered earth and felt compelled to drop in and show off their aerodynamic prowess, or just punish us psychologically before eating us, it would look like this.

This is all the nightmare fuel you’ll ever need. Just look at them.

“Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore—
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
“’Tis some visitor,” I muttered, “tapping at my chamber door—
Only this and nothing more.”

“And the silken, sad, uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me—filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating
“’Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door—
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door;—
This it is and nothing more.”

 

“Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
“Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,” I said, “art sure no craven,
Ghastly grim and ancient Raven wandering from the Nightly shore—
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night’s Plutonian shore!”
Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

(The Raven, Edgar Allen Poe)

These Octopus Kites Are The Worst