Skin Deep [Full]Skin Deep
Disorder"What do you do?
Participate in our prompts given out every Friday. Submit your piece and it could be featured here!
Cry of the JackalsCry of the JackalsCry of the Jackals by Michel-le-fou
Those who have traversed the Sahara along the Egyptian stretch and wandered through the Valley of Kings might have chanced to hear the occasional cries of jackals. They sometimes hang out near the doors of the tombs. When this writer was at the nearest resort, a traveler such as I mentioned arrived and told me and a few others that he had seen or heard a clutch of jackals at a particular tomb. Naturally, someone inquired,
"Which tomb was it? Akhenaten? Ramses?"
"I am not really sure," he replied, nervously. "Neither did I see a marking nor did my guide know."
An unmarked tomb. An unknown mummy. Something very strange was going on out there. However, I was still on holiday and had no intention to investigate. So the inquirer, Edmond Tulley, an amateur investigator who occasionally worked with Scotland Yard, felt it was incumbent to go. The journey was about two days by rover.
When Tulley arrived, he and his guide, a native Egyptian, camped and checked provisions. Cert
In Their Shoes.Everything and everyone we encounter is an iceberg; only the surface is visible, and what lays beneath is an unknown story, within a story, as a result of a story.In Their Shoes. by rociobelindamendez
We may see someone walking down the street, and immediately have a watered-down idealized image of them, in their room, doing whatever it is that they do, in their skin, with their experiences behind them, and their world in front of them.
We can empathize with others in a general sense––
Have you ever wondered what it’s like to be another?
Have you ever wondered what it would be like to wake up as a random passer-by?
We have an image of what these people are like behind closed doors, when there’s no one around, when they can just be. We interpret these imaginings as beautiful, as interesting, as different, we romanticize the idea of them. We know we’ll never learn the steps to their tune, just as they’ll never dance to the beat of our
Heart of the Woman IIHeart of the WomanHeart of the Woman II by Michel-le-fou
What will glow like fire every night?
What will shine like the stars?
What will glimmer so brightly
That one will see it from afar?
What will have value more than precious stones,
More than silver and gold?
What has a price so dear when bought
But never should be sold?
Men, if you don't know, then ask your wives; if they don't know, then ask Puabi.
When Heaven is Angry conclusionWhen Heaven is AngryWhen Heaven is Angry conclusion by Michel-le-fou
Every cloud has a silver lining. There may be some good in the worst situations. Within moments, earth dimensional time, the storm blew me through the threshold of Hastur's dimension and back to our world. The key was, how've, still in my grasp. The storm it evoked failed, or worse, was not meant to remove it. I rejoined Ralph Compton and we returned o his house. I spent about half an hour shaking myself from that experience.
"Well, Henry , thy sy that we learn from experience. What has this experience taught you?"
"for one thing, Ralph, old boy, it taught me to beware of them Old Ones."
"Oh, absolutely don't trust them!"
"Beyond that, I learned how much power they had and something queer about Hatur. But, let's get started. There are a few places that need a storm."
We set to work combining the spells in the Necronomicon Spellbook with the key. Throughout that time, we both duly dreaded the dimensions of the storms we would conjure. Ralph offered to hol
Only youAnother day passes slowlyOnly you by MorganWolfram
Life keeps on fading quietly
My years have been spend worthlessly
With no feeling fraternity
I walk my way solemnly
Make my path formally
All eyes lay on me respectfully
I'm treated like the great solely
But I owe them back disgracefully
I put them aside disdainfully
I whip my worries mercilessly
I am a powerful weapon ultimately
But my bullets are stunned by you so suddenly
Your Kindness shoed away my troubles so charmingly
You helped me upon my feet willingly
You expected nothing back unconditionally
From that moment my mind was on you individually
Even with all the fuss; you smile caringly
Pain was caused and you suffered sensitively
But you said regrets will go gradually
I don't care if there is no money surprisingly
You changed me astonishingly
I won't let a burden fall on you, even mistakenly
How can you be so gentle admiringly?
Don't hesitate to hold my hand tightly
But please keep smiling constantly
My eyes shall remain for you promisingly
I shall love
Scorched 1.1The moment the train stopped, she rushed out of her seat, ran out of the door, pushed her way through the morning crowd, and sprinted to the University. It was just her luck that her train broke down the day of an important exam. She wound up taking a different train which came later than its arrival time. Her eyes were fixed on her watch and her hand was securely on her book bag.Scorched 1.1 by Erin-Lynne
"What happened this time?" the receptionist asked Prishe as the Asterian burst through the doors of the University. She didn't look up from the desk but Prishe could hear the shuffling of papers as if she was reaching for something.
The young Asterian laughed uneasily and signed in. "The train broke down. I can't talk; I've got to get to class!" she replied, darting down the hall.
She took the stairs, figuring that they would be faster, but was quickly flooded by students. She was determined, however. She had never been late before and she wasn't about to start. Not caring who she plowed by, she continued tak
Scorched P.1She woke abruptly to the beginning of her favorite song—a loud, energetic low-brass song—and fell out the chair of her desk. She hit her head on the side of her bed and had knocked over several sheets of paper which were now littered around her. A groan passed her lips as she removed her headphones. The light in the room made her eyes sting until they adjusted. Her blueprints, essays, and medicine homework were on top of her bare legs, making her nerves tingle.Scorched P.1 by Erin-Lynne
After sitting in the odd position for a while, she took a glance at her watch. It was going to be a couple of hours before her regular alarm would go off. She sighed, stiffly collected her work, set them aside, and got up. Every muscle in her back and legs were screaming at her, but she paid little attention to it as she yawned and stretched.
She sat on her bed next to her work and stared at the walls for a while, collecting her thoughts. She would have classes today, and her work needed to be done, That way she woul
Rise of JERICO-- ProloguePrologueRise of JERICO-- Prologue by Erin-Lynne
The room was silent as he sat there, reading his book intently. A few candles were lit around the room, casting an eerie shadow across the figure. Two years he had spent in solitude, never leaving his mansion, since the end of the of the war. He rarely came in contact with people, unless it was one of the AMBROS prisoners that needed to be punished. Everyone who knew of him feared him; he treated none with mercy.
His name was Viare.
Lightning flashed outside as the rain began to patter on his window. He put his book down when he heard a metal ping of a kicked gate outside. He stood to his feet and looked outside his window to see a man with soaked, fiery red hair jump off the barrier gate. Viare curled a slight smile on his face. “Again? When will he learn?” he murmured to himself. He turned from the window and left his room.
The guards were startled by his presence. “Send the hounds. It seems our guest hasn’t been broken in. Bring him back
act 1: the boulevard, or, herJessie had eyes that sometimes thought they were green and sometimes thought they were brown. That night, they were in one of their depressed moods and had decided to take on the semblance of minty chocolate to make themselves feel better. If they could eat themselves, they would have. Jessie herself, however, was just as intensely, determinedly happy as usual. She skipped on every second step and her smile crackled with energy; since i flatly refused to skip with her, she would skip ahead a few feet and then turn around, pale yellow-white hair flying in the half-light from the streetlamps and storefronts, and wait for me to catch up. Our parents thought we were at a mutual friend's house, sleeping over. We'd decided to skip it. We were eighteen, after all, and it was the summer after high school, that last possible summer where you can really be a kid before having to decide what you want to do and who you want to be. College applications had been sent out, but with one girl that wantact 1: the boulevard, or, her by just-get-over-it
Wasteland Samurai Ch. 4 Wind whistled and wailed as stinging sand sailed through the air, forcing itself through windows, under doors and everywhere it was not wanted or allowed. As residents took refuge within their homes, windows shuttered, and others wherever they could as quickly as possible, one sole man fought through the pain, goggled and shielded in denim layers with tied openings. The worst of it hadn’t come in yet. Visibility was still there. He secured his place of business with wooden shudders and ushered strangers to safety as he headed inside. They would brush off their dusty clothes, though a shower would be best for their sandy scalps.Wasteland Samurai Ch. 4 by StevenGilby
The man burst through the door, leaning hard to close the windward-facing door. He tore the protection from his body, sweaty and chaotic in appearance. His hair stood as light brown fire atop his head with clean skin rimmed in dusty brown around his light eyes.
“You do not pay me enough to batten down this shack
MTB: When Parallel Planets Collide, Chapter NineNow, Riley, my best friend in the whole world— even though I don’t admit it sometimes— was in his dorm room the next morning, about five or six in the morning, right around the ass-crack of dawn. He was asleep in his bed, tucked away and off to dreamland. I would be, too, if I had as good a life as he did. But then, out of nowhere, the mailman came to his door and knocked on it.MTB: When Parallel Planets Collide, Chapter Nine by TheSkull31
“Letter for Mr. Zinc!” the mailman proclaimed.
Riley wondered to himself as the letter went through the bottom opening of his door. He had just woke up and got his sleep in, but it wasn’t much because he’d been practicing for his final exams until midnight— but that’s his business, not mine. As he wiped the crust from his eyes, he realized that this letter was something that he needed to read, no doubt about it. As he opened the envelope, a letter entitled ‘Dear Mr. Zinc’ could be seen at the top in bold letters. What, y
MTB: When Parallel Planets Collide, Chapter EightNow, I don’t know how the hell Cyrus was able to get discharged from the hospital that night, but the doctors managed to discharge him. He was on his way home, from what I know for sure, and he wanted to cook himself up a nice big plate of dinner; however, just then— and like a thief in the night— something grabbed him, sweeping him off his feet as it flew away.MTB: When Parallel Planets Collide, Chapter Eight by TheSkull31
“Hey, what’s going on here?!” Cyrus screamed, trying to release himself from the vampire’s clutches. I’m pretty sure the vampire’s name was Adam Neilo, and, let me tell you, this guy is older than Methuselah! And then he looked at the dark castle that also happened to be a long ways ahead of him before he looked up to the vampire I knew at the time as Adam and he finally came to his senses.
“Oh, it’s you, Adam! How are you doing?”
“I’m in a festive mood tonight,” Adam said to him, smiling. “I figured you might want to come along for
Shroomy and her Melancholy state of AffairsForward from this: http://hebbybobdige.deviantart.com/gallery/#/d5hapii sceneShroomy and her Melancholy state of Affairs by Hebbybobdige
Okay let's discuss Shroomy and her completely un-endearing un-cheerful and un-attractive state of affairs. Firstly you must realise that Shroomy's life was far more dismal than most. Those at her school find her (in their own words) a 'skanky, ugly, creepy little bug-eyed weirdo'
You see when somebody isn't what you would consider 'normal' people have a tendency to ridicule or be afraid of this person. Shroomy being no exception to this, she would spend her time at school sat alone on a table muttering strange things to her only friend who was named 'Scarlett' and she could be seen only by Shroomy. Whilst the rest of the class formed their own, chattery little groups consisting mainly of people who would consider a scruffy, bug-eyed girl constantly whispering scary things to herself a strange sight indeed, therefore nobody wanted to talk to her.
You may or may not know that somebody who exists in
A Rather Peculiar Dream [conclusion]A Rather Peculiar DreamA Rather Peculiar Dream [conclusion] by Michel-le-fou
The crew of that ship decided unanimously to destroy the parchment. They hoped that destroying it would eradicate their nightmares. However, the worse was bound to happen. They carried the parchment to the inn cautiously, hurried behind the inn and looked for dry wood. They separated and searched he terrain. About half an hour later, they returned to the spot and built a small bonfire; and then, they tossed the parchment into the fire. Instead of merely a burning manuscript, the air was filled with loud, painful screams. In the midst of burning the parchment, mysteriously the faces of Andrew Carlyle and two other mates caught fire and they suffered disfigurement and blindness. The unaffected mates gasped. The parchment jumped animatedly from the fire and landed in Carlyle's lap, setting his body ablaze.
They tried to seize the document and throw it into the fire again but it burned one mate's hands. He yelped in agony. Then, it suddenly vanished in sm
A Rather Peculiar Dream [page 2]A Rather Peculiar DreamA Rather Peculiar Dream [page 2] by Michel-le-fou
The following night,however,the first mate had a stranger dream than the last. He was still in R'yleh but searching frantically for a way out. He turned and ran in every possible direction but he discovered that they ended in a dead end. The terrain and structures at each end were strange and foreboding to him. But as soon as he looked back over his shoulder, he discovered that the monsters were trailing him. They seemed to hunt him. He panicked. They loomed steadily closer to his spot. Yet no sooner had they closed in on him then he awoke. He screamed and the others heard him and hurried to his bedside.
"Andrew, what's the matter now?" one asked him.
"Those horrible things are tracking me!"
"They followed me in the dream and almost caught me!"
The others shok their heads and tried to think of ways to stop Carlyle from dreaming. However like that first night they all eventually suffered exhaustion and fell asleep. That night, around the hour
A Rather Peculiar Dream [page 1]A Rather Peculiar DreamA Rather Peculiar Dream [page 1] by Michel-le-fou
Cthulhu R'yleh wgal'nagh ftagn
Do dead souls dream? Do living souls dream of the dead?
Worse, do they dream the same dream?
Of ships that sailed the Arctic or Antarctic, that reached eventually the island source of the dreaded cult, few ever return to port. In my lifetime, as I resided near Providence, Rhode Island, one ship with a total crew of 5 men managed to return to port. The crew lodged at a local inn for a few nights, and tried desperately to forget what they found. They played games, sang tunes, exchanged tales of other experiences. Afraid to dream, they took pills to keep awake. Eventually, though, they fell asleep from simple exhaustion. Near the wee hours of morning, the first mate, Andrew Carlyle tossed and turned in his bed. His fellows herd faint cries of a name or names never heard or known before: Cthulhu, Dagon, R'yleh.
The next morning, after first mate Carlyle awoke, they asked him about those names. He explained grimly that he had lain sleep
My last letter of loveMy last letter of love.My last letter of love by AlilliceMFC
My beloved one so near,
still too far to embrace.
I reach for your hand,
touch the edges of fulfillment.
Do I regret?
one last breath
and I'll hold you tight!
No looking back now.
No chance of change.
One more breath: I smell the air!
One more step: I feel the pain!
One more blink: I can see it clearly now!
And with the last beat I am safe in your arms.
Thumb On The Mob (Part 1) Amongst the light foot falls of officers going about their tasks, one set stood out as it sounded louder through the precinct, heading from the entrance over to the holding cells. The man to whom these foot falls belonged was tall; about six-four, and thin; not lanky, but like a bean-pole. His black slacks danced on the top of his black shoes, his dark-blue tie wriggled ever so slightly under the slight heaving of the man’s chest, but his bluish-gray waistcoat held it to his faded sky-blue shirt.Thumb On The Mob (Part 1) by BDancinJones
The man slowed himself down, actually stopping to tap his slightly damp forehead with his sleeve, before turning the last corner into the viewing side of the interrogation room. He proceeded to enter the room, and did so with a certain swagger in his walk and a sly smile sitting in the corner of his mouth. In the room stood a mid-twenties woman in work-place formal dress and an early-thirties officer in uniform. On the left wa
. shadowed .. shadowed . by Amanda-Graham
. shadowed .
It is a charcoal space, rectangular and seething with irregular textures. It stinks of metals and years of dusty disuse. Termed 'Scheduled for Reconversion' and 'Reconversion Through Space Leasing' it's been placed in the 'hold for another when able, we promise to be good' trash heap of this country's monumental failures.The urban landscapes that are undergoing reclaimation are, in this District and others, ignored with cracks and graffiti tag spray that are decades old.
"… grey black white blur ghost rectangle white sparkle night glimmer residential lights far off never-lands dreamt flight …"
The sounds of traffic, cut by the occasional creak and cymbal strikes of thin steel blown shutters, are the only sounds other than the soft whispers of her rhyme. The pulse and throb of her wet machinery is too soft but for the other resident-in-squat to hear. Feral cats and dogs range f
Dialogue: Forgive"Hey."Dialogue: Forgive by Avix215
"I didn't say anything."
"Good. Keep it that way."
"He's sorry, you know. For what he did."
I stayed silent.
"Can't you at least talk to him?"
I gave out a short, sharp bark of laughter. It came out sounding feral.
"You're lucky I'm talking to you!"
"Me? What did I do?"
"Nothing. That's the point."
"I tried to stop him."
Our eyes met. "Tried isn't good enough," I said shortly.
"Can't you just-"
"Can't I just? Can't I just what? Forgive him? Because I won't. And I never will."
I laughed. "He's not even brave enough to try to talk to me face to face! Instead, he sends you! A diplomat! An envoy!"
"Sending in the cavalry while he sits and watches from the barracks!" I spat.
"Or maybe, instead of the cavalry, I'm a third party. Trying to end the conflict."
I stared at that face. That mouth, twisting and turning words to suit its needs. Those eyes, falsely trustworthy.
"He said I was worse than a dog. A savage. A wild animal," I stated flatly.
"He didn't mean
SingWill you singSing by Lupuswolf13
Sing with me
Sing my Joy
Will you sing
Sing ballads from your soul
Sing to my heart
Will you sing
Sing to comfort me
Sing away my sorrows
Will you sing
Sing me to sleep
Sing my lullaby
Will you sing
Sing me to the golden gates
Sing my salvation
Will you sing
Sing my release
Sing at my funeral
Don't cry. Just Sing
Goodbye 'friend' .. no wait.Sitting here now in darkness I stareGoodbye 'friend' .. no wait. by leanscribbles
Still wondering, and waiting to see if you care.
I've cursed you and expressed a severe disconcern
But now I have to wonder was it me who did the burn.
Was it me who pushed you away
Too impulsive too repulsive.
I'll never know and always wonder either way.
You came to me when you felt down and depressed.
I was there for you.
I barely knew you.
Yet I loved you.
Hidden HuesRefusing to escape this perfect realm,Hidden Hues by DSteffi
Oblivious to the alarm’s nagging.
Closing my eyes to falsely pretend,
This world goes on without the raging.
And yet too soon I wake to darkness,
All the sun’s light is a mirror’s illusion.
Nightmares clear the dreams I prolong,
Setting my fears into fruition.
Draped in robes of heaven’s disguise,
Evil taunts us from left and right.
So many forms it blatantly sports,
Angels must pity our little plight.
Fractions of time is hell unleashed,
Sorrow absorbed in just one blink.
Blades and ropes and bullets blend,
Each passing day a child will sink.
Colors dull to the undying clockwork,
Ears gone deaf to justified crime.
Oh just how can we all stand it?
Watching demons at their prime.
Placing pearls on the ocean floor,
And leaving hope in Pandora’s box.
The gods must feast on playing jokes,
Closing this cellar without the locks.
But just as air seeps in the tiniest hole,
Paired with night is dawn’s bright light.
God's called another angelYou were sick and tiredGod's called another angel by leanscribbles
none of us we knew,
God had pulled the reins in
Calling home for you.
My mother and yourself
You fought so hard and long
Now that your struggles over
My mother will carry on.
I know she feels defeated
this cancer its hard to beat.
Your memory lies with her always
In every stride as she aims to defeat.
Flight of the EagleIt was the last week of university. Classes were complete, exams were taken. It was the time for the students to find a job. Lucy sighed as she perused the job choices. None of job offerings appealed to her. She didn't want to be stuck behind the desk; she wanted to be out and about. Adventure and action were her calling. She logged out off the computer and got up.Flight of the Eagle by tyw7
Maybe I needed a breather. Time to cool my head. Lucy thought.
She headed to the wardrobe. She grabbed a towel and disrobed. Although age has filled her in considerably since her stick figure days, Lucy wasn't particularly curvaceous. In fact she was stronger than most typical girls (or boys). She was sure she could take even the strongest bullies in a fist fight and win.
Staring at the mirror, she could see faint scars that covered her face. She paused at the one that under her left eye. The same mark that she had sustained when monst
Puppet Masters: Chapter 6Puppet Masters: Chapter 6Puppet Masters: Chapter 6 by DuchessRush
Disclaimer: I do not own Puppet Master Characters or any of the Full Moon Features movies. I do own the plot and my OC Characters Alexis, Revy and Jinx.
*Talk* = Puppet talk.
“Puppet people seriously. I’m driving I get to pick the radio station.” Revy yelled turning the station back to where she had it.
She was met with a large group of hisses.
“I don’t care. If you don’t like it I do.” Revy hissed back at them. Alexis was deeply saddened Jester was trying to comfort her from her fears.
He wished he could explain that she and her sisters were going to be ok and that they were in good hands.
Pinhead especially would look after Jinx while they were away.
Pinhead was once a man named Herman Strauss. Strauss was a truck driver who secretly brought food to the Jewish ghettos; as a result, he w
Frozen Shadows (Ch. 2)The Boy with the LanternFrozen Shadows (Ch. 2) by Aurora66
The silver glow of the moon broke through the retreating storm clouds like a colorless aurora. The long blades of grass on the dunes swayed back and forth, rustling softly in a duet with the sea. A figure walked up from the beach, towards the village that lay completely still even though most of its inhabitants had come out of their reed-roofed houses.
There was Cano, who owned most of the island's sheep, and Juna, who would sometimes take Moira along on her fishing boat. Juna's parents, both stooped and leaning heavily on walking sticks, stood beside her; and behind them was Moira's aunt and uncle with their five-year-old son. Between his chicken pen and house stood Rick the mainlander, the only one who hadn't been born on the island. He held his pitchfork as if to ward off an attack, yet he didn't bring it down on anything. Everyone was there; everyone except for Cano's wife and their small children and the elderly and sick – everyone who'd stepp
Galaxy P.I. Light covers the city, even at night. A bevy of colors, my favorite ones being the variations of green on the white buildings. It’s a very bright place, especially during the day. The skies are almost always clear, but when it rains, it really pours. It’s like someone dumped the cosmic bucket of water down on the city.Galaxy P.I. by StevenGilby
The skyscrapers stretch higher than my neck can bend from street level, but the sun still reaches us bugs on the street. Couple of the bigger places are as big as city blocks and act as cheap housing. They’re the tallest. Pretty fancy stuff for cheap living. I got me one, near top floor. Everyone here is at least twice as big as a human, so my apartment is very spacious. Scary shit looking all the way down – hell, it scares me looking half way down – but the view over the rest of the city is magnificent! They’re not like the buildings back home.
The indigenous species here are called something I c
A Conversation with The Writer He stood and watched her as she walked to the house, opened the door, turned one last time to smile at him shyly and wave goodbye, then vanished. He stared at the closed door as if mesmerized for several moments, then began to walk away. He stopped. Then continued. Stopped again. He kept walking until he reached a street light. Then, in a voice that seemed to echo all around him, he softly called, "Writer..."A Conversation with The Writer by LassieTheArtist
The word was like a charm, an incantation, as it began unraveling the place that he knew as his universe. The street and the light and the hedges and houses vanished around him, to be replaced by something that could have been a bedroom. It was like standing inside the painting of a rather depressed mind: the whole world seemed to be made up of smudgy brushstrokes. The colors were all wrong and he couldn't decide whether it was because they were too bright or not bright enough. He found it difficult to distinguish the shapes of the furniture in the room; the whole wo
The Arcana and the AwakenedAfter the genesis of the Cosmos, the ancestors of livingkind discovered they had powers. These powers are called the Arcana, some of the infinite divine properties of the One. These powers included elemental manipulation, Nature communication,The Arcana and the Awakened by Everlasting90
otherworld perception, psychokinesis, shapeshifting and the list goes on. After the Fall, the Arcana became scarce among the descendants. But there were those whose powers were active. These people are called Awakeneds but they are also known as witches, shamans, sorcerers, thaumaturges, seers, shapeshifters, etc. These people could change the True (natural form) into the Other (unnatural form). They could change forms and courses of Nature and possibly the Cosmos. These people were both revered and feared by others.
"From the One All came and to the One shall All return." - the motto of the Island of the Grey.
Prodigal's SearchProdigal's SearchProdigal's Search by Michel-le-fou
Tormented in school, berated at home
A constant need to live this life alone
I finished school to go abroad
My heart weighed with a heavy load
And every step I took then
Echoed with my mother's voice
An empty heart and a sad soul
Need time to recover and become whole
I needed to live among caring men
So I would not relive that life again
But still I heard that woman's voice
I wandered far and away back then
Vowing never to return home again
Haunted and hounded by my mother's ghost
Peace is desired but it has a heavy cost
Only now at the side of one I love
Who heals and soothes with a velvet glove
Does that voice soften and sound like the wind
And drift away like my dreams from my mind
And in the end I realized
That only my father and my sister cared
The former supported me till now more than I knew
The latter supports me at every thing I do
And I no longer hear that awful voice
It's apart of our historyWe all have suffered.It's apart of our history by Everlasting90
Race, sex, belief, everyone.
We are bound by pain.
Truth EmergesHave you ever met someone with a beautiful exteriorTruth Emerges by Everlasting90
but it contradicts with their ugly interior?
They start off attractive with a quality that's cute
but their acts make you want to give them the boot.
Have you ever looked at someone and paid them no heed
but your view changed when you saw their good deeds?
Over time, you see the soul's beauty emerge.
Your feelings change and some begin to surge.
Chapter 1: The Tempest
Muffled sounds of waves crashing & thunder cracking was all young Nyck heard. His eyelids opened to a blurred vision of blue lightning striking out of a dark indigo sky. He felt water droplets fly onto his face. He could taste the salt of the sea. His vision came into focus. The strong winds of the storm churned the sea.
Nyck was lying on the deck floor of the boat. He raised his torso from the damp floor slowly. He felt groggy as he sat upright. The agitated movements of the boat didn’t make him feel any better. He wondered if he was any better lying down. His nose wrinkled as a whiff of something putrid went up his nostrils. He looked around. Surrounding him were three piles of damp gray ash. A silver dagger lay next to one of the piles.
He slowly lifted the rest of his body from the floor He tried to balance himself against the sea’s turbulence. A wave crashed into the boat, knocking him back down on the floor. He landed on his hands and knees. A pain shot up
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