Hey all. This is just a little something I thought you would enjoy. It's short, but it's captivating. Enjoy.
Deiad
Nightmare Island
You are sprawled out on a barren shore. Pulling yourself up on your knees, you look around. Dark, foamy waves lap your legs. Ominous, gray clouds plume from behind the sea. Sheets of rain pummel the buckling water. The crisp whiff of rain is washed away and replaced with the dank must of marsh. Gnarly branches sway into the gusting winds. Lightning cracks and briefly illuminates the island. The rocky crags and outcroppings that line the shore drop clumps of rock and mud into the churning ocean. Thunder crashes overhead, shaking everything. You run.
Underneath the cover of the trees you cower. Dark, sinister shapes dart between the foliage and glare at you with piercing red and yellow eyes. They hiss and snarl at you through their fangs as white as sun bleached bones. Shadows dance ceremonially around tree trunks like wraiths. The swishing of leaves and rumbling of thunder is their chanting. An ethereal mist cloaks the forest. The shrill callings and cackling of native birds awaken the hush caused by the storm. Meek breezes floated through the juicy air like the breath of a dying elder. A warm aroma of cooking meat draws your senses. You stand warily. Pushing aside limbs and leaves, you follow the antagonizing smell. You meticulously clamber over jagged rocks and stones. Your stomach gurgles and growls. The rolling of the waves leads you to the beach, but something inside you wails protests. Instincts drown out intuition as you continue.
Saliva gathers under your tongue. You peek from behind tall, spindly grass. A gasp escapes your agape mouth. The macabre scene makes you wretch. Tanned and muscular men clad in only scanty loincloths dance around a fire. Their religious crooning is muffled by an agonizing scream. In the crackling fire is a bound, squirming man.
Flames engulf his charred torso and envelope his head in a raging fury. Bloodstained knives are splayed in the sand. Bones from previous victims are piled carelessly in a pit, and the youngest of the tribe nibble at the leftover flesh. You cough up more bile and groan. Everything becomes quiet. They stop dancing. They hear you. You scramble and dash into the forest, but they follow with knives bared and filed teeth grinning in devilish delight. Foamy saliva dribbles down their rough chins. Their tattooed bodies ripple under the stress of their pounding feet. The hunters follow your fear scent through the forest. You are what they desire. The thought of the taste of your flesh tantalizes their tongues. The feeling of your blood rushing down their throats powers their muscles. You trip over some bulging roots. You feel the darkness of their shadows looming over you. You look up as your world turns black.
