Just a thing that spat its self out of my brain one morning. I am sorry if you cant make sense of it...
I wouldn't say its really relevant or canon to anything in particular but it does not fit with my other story collection Siberia, so I decided to post it on its own. Maybe there will be more very short things 'storys' to add in the future but I just do not know.
Word Count : 159
It started like a whisper, hushed and weary on the wind of a clouded and desolate night.
But with time it twisted, turned into a roar like sound that cracked from the darkness like one to many bones breaking on the jagged rocks of despair.
It is never ending, and like a black, thick and toxic fog it grips the minds of the lost and the hopeless.
Drives them onwards further into the harsh clutches of insanity and then once the noise was strong enough it assumed a more solid form.
A form at whose feet the weary fall before lifts them gently and takes them over the final edge and into oblivion.
It is a creature now with an unending luck, a need for constant companions and a habit of drawing in the trouble, it feeds off the misfortune of the others, surviving day after day with a blackness in its heart and it calls its self...
Captain.