Under the water,
So cold and blue,
Under the water,
I now bid you adieu,
Under the water,
I'm now cold enough to feel you
The Wormwood tore it's way though our ship's haul, blue fingers grabbing at us. Screams were muffled by the roar of water; and for once in a very long time, I had no idea of what to do. We're going to die I thought. Looking toward my left and right, I saw no one. Suddenly, I felt as if my heart was beating in my throat and I could barley think freely. Again I looked over to the left and the right and at last saw my parents, Lizire, and Torlem swimming toward the surface. Funny, I didn't even know how long I was under water. As soon as I surfaced, I released the breath I didn't know I was even holding and gulped in as much air as I could. If you looked toward the horizon, you could make out the outline of the Wormwood, sailing fast toward its destination.
"What do we do now?" asked Lizire. Her question was answered by silence and the gentle lapping of waves. Finally, I answered.
"The driftwood. The Wormwood tore through half of the ship leaving large clusters of wood floating around. If you'll look around, we can use some rope to fashion a deck, and then we pray. Hopefully the Isabella will take us where we want to go."
"Well? What are we waiting for? If we don't want to become fish food we better hurry up!" said Torlem. But it was already too late. Dark shapes were starting to swarm around us below.
Wham the first fish struck our skimpy raft. The raft shook with tremendous force. A frenzy of fins and scales were swarming around us. These fish, Johaha didn't particularly like human, but at least they tasted good; the problem with these fish was that they took large bites out of things before they became uninterested. Judging by the fins, they were small fish, but a big problem.
Wham, Thwack. The fish were becoming more anxious now. The tethers of the rope holding the two pieces of raft we were floating on.
"Mom!" I screamed. My parents were floating farther and farther away. Blinded by panic, I fell in. Surrounded by a flurry of metallic silver and grey I was in danger. I saw Liz climbing out of the raft, and climbed on top of the nearest piece of wood. I was wounded, but alive.
"Oh my god," said Torlem. That's when the pain hit. I was badly bruised and scratched; the scales of the fish left bloody gouges on my arms and legs. We were floating farther and farther away from another. I was able to see that Lizire was not as badly hurt as I, no where near it.
"I shall meet you at our house!" I shouted. I could only pray that they heard me.
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When my sorry excuse for a raft reached the shore, I almost wished it had not. For I had landed on the island of Gorgossium; irony, gotta love it. However, I wasn't in the best of shape, I was loosing blood and becoming lightheaded.
I knew there was no escaping. It was rumored giant lice the size of three people roamed the land and that there was a garden of every since poisonous plant ever as well as a forest of gallows where the ravens sang their eerie songs. This was not good. Not good at all. And of course as our luck would have it, it was starting to get cold.
I tried to think of something, Anything that would get me off this infernal island. I was trapped on a deadly island with evil people and it was getting colder and colder.
"Could things get any worse?" I moaned.
"Of course they can, they always can," said a voice from behind me.
There was a boy of roughly his teens standing behind me. Now, you have to understand that I have seen a lot of different people during my travels, but nothing quite like him. He had molted greenish scales that seemed to pulse and change back from scale to skin and back over and over again. Not to say he was ugly, no he was quite handsome really, but you couldn't really get a decent look at his face because you were always staring at his scales. They were actually sort of handsome in a mutated, weird way. His hair was curly and black and covered most of his forehead and eyes.
What's your name?" I asked.
"My name's Letheo. Not that is should concern you,"he said
Where had I heard that name before? Letheo…it sounded so familiar….
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Poor little stitchling,
From the noose you shall swing,
Mud oozing from your seams,
The ravens shall dance to your screams.
Kime wasn't the smartest or most useful of mater Motely's gruesome creations. This is why when word had it that a message had to be sent to Carrion, Kime was picked. He was often ridiculed for his stupidity, for Mater Motely didn't do much for him in the brains department. His mismatched skin of green, brown, and colors that don't even have a name seemed to sag when he had been chosen to deliver the message. Kime was at least smart enough to figure out that: the message was not a good one and his chance for surviving intact or alive was not so great.
"What do you mean my grandmother forbids me?" hissed Christopher Carrion to the stitching who had been unlucky enough to give the Dark Lord bad news.
"She just told me to tell you, uh, that, uh, um, well that you can't just go out and ravage an island-" the stitching was cut off short.
"HOW DARE SHE FORBID ME!" Carrion roared. The stitching, Kime bent his knees and covered his head.
"Look at me!" said Carrion. The stitching raised his eyes. Barley.
"Do you realize who you are talking to? Is there anything else that my grandmother would like to inform me of?" he demanded. Kime nodded his head. A few moments passed by.
"WELL AREN'T YOU GOING TO TELL ME?" snarled Carrion.
"Oh yes," Kime said. He took a big breath, it might be his last, "Your grandmother has also informed me that 'if you are to continue on your escapades' she will take away your….seamstresses. She also said that she has spies everywhere and it is advisable not to do anything rash for she will be watching," he finished.
Carrion's rage first started deep within him rising and clawing its way outwards. He bounded toward the poor stitching and tossed Kime across the room with what seemed like little or no effort. Kime hit the wall, hard. Rubbing his jaw, Kime gingerly raised himself into a sitting position. Carrion's metal gloves hurt far more than one would think.
Kime looked into Carrion's eyes. Eyes of hate and loathing; eyes that knew no mercy; eyes that had been tortured. There was something about the presence of a Carrion, Christopher particularly, that told you that you were in the presence great power. No, you do not want to mess with any Carrion.
"Tell my precious grandmother this. I shall find a seamstress of my own and no matter what she says; any island that opposes midnight will be crushed. You may leave now," said Carrion. The stitching stumbled out of the room without a single look back, glad to still be in one piece.
Carrion sat down in his study. It was large and filled with all sorts tales of the ghastly and gruesome. Fleshless vultures sat at the top of massive bookcases watching the scenes below them with white, blank eyes. There was the matter of a seamstress. In order to be as fearful as possible, he had to not only be, but look the part. It would take a talented seamstress to satisfy his extravagant and meticulous ideas. But that was to worry about later. Carrion knew his grandmother was both dangerous and smart, and he would have to make sure he would be smarter.
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Letheo! Carrion's assassin! I thought to myself. I had condemned myself to a nightmare of epic proportions. Letheo caught me and dragged me from the water. I knew I couldn't win this one. Grabbing a stick as he grabbed for me, I started hitting him as hard a possible it didn't seem to bother him. Not only had he endured worse beatings, but my strikes were getting weaker and weaker.
Running on sand is hard enough. Try it while bleeding, and starting to faint all the while being chased by someone who probably wants to kill you. Not fun. Darkness slithered into my vision, blotting everything out until I could see or feel no more. So dark, so, so dark; as I felt myself falling, I realized in order to see the light you must first see the dark.
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Carrion was interrupted from his reading by a knock on the door. He was in a decent enough mood. It was an especially dark night, he might just take a walk in the forest. His corpulent nightmares floated lazily around his collar. They had fed well that night on the night isle of Idjit….
"Enter," he said. Hopefully someone would have good news tonight. Letheo came in with something in his arms.
"I think I might've found something of interest to you," Letheo announced laying the bundle on the floor before the Dark Prince.
"I think you may be right," said Carrion looking at the girl's face. A cold smile spread across his grisly features, he had found his seamstress.