Archive for the ‘The Dark Verse’ Category

TDV 91: Costumes Of Reality

November 20th, 2015 by Sharkchild

Outside, frogs croaked by the hundreds. The recent rains had swelled the nearby creek allowing for a brief metropolis of amphibian prolificacy. They had never before caused me much delay when it came to falling asleep, but this evening their raucous sounds were so penetrating that it was too hard to exchange their dissonance with the frequencies of unconsciousness.

I lay there in bed next to my husband, wondering upon the dark blotches of shadow on the ceiling and their infinities and the day of errands awaiting me upon the approaching dawn. The fan creaked with its brisk rotations.

My three-week-old daughter began to fuss in her bassinet at the foot of the bed. She had been fed and changed not a half-hour ago. At first it was a grumble here and a grunt there, but soon enough, she belted out with full, reverberating, newborn despair. I hesitatingly slid to my feet and walked over to my beckoning child. Her left arm had broken free from her swaddle and was swinging with clenched fingers. I reached down, slid my hands beneath her—one beneath her neck and head and the other beneath her lower back and hips—but yanked my hands back—as if they had just embraced a scalding surface—in reaction to what I felt there. Something was below my daughter. I widened my retrieval, extending one hand to the top of her head and the other to her legs, and hoisted her up against my bosom.

TDV 90: The Essence Of All-Sight

August 13th, 2015 by Sharkchild

The steps leading up to the century-old stronghold were like rotting teeth, fragmented and disgustingly whittled. The passageway at the pinnacle of these steps—tucked between the swooping, gnarly trees of the Battlemance Forest—lay open for any foolish wayfarer such as myself who desired to connect the fate of one’s life with the Death Breadths of Kirthkald Dungeon.

Revenants entombed in the blackness of their past lives’ powers, infinitely stamped in shadowy existences with the inability to use their godlike spells and existence-altering items, were left with nothing but the faculty to accumulate wealth and seek entertainment through devilish deeds. Here, at Kirthkald Dungeon, they guarded their belongings and bolstered their empire of immortal greed and sadism.

TDV 89: Omnipotent Ingenuity

February 25th, 2015 by Sharkchild

Darilandria Alrindce Syabeltel.”

That was all the gargantuan visitor said after it arrived through a fissure in space and abruptly appeared in the middle of the world. A portal, not so different than a mirror in the sky, appeared without warning, reflecting back the lands before expanding outward to its city-wide ends as an enormous halo of reflective boundaries. Like an asteroid falling through a chute, the ultra-mega being crashed down, obliterating everything around it—all was displaced and decimated, with the tallest buildings being torn from their foundations and sent sprawling. Chunks of stone and metal were flung great distances, expanding the deadly carnage for many miles. Millions were instantly killed; the wake of destruction was vast and utterly harrowing. Once settled in its nest of ruin, it spoke:

“Darilandria Alrindce Syabeltel.”

The creature stood over ten-thousand feet tall and, with mortal eyes, could not be fathomed in all of its deplorable form. Its color was black—black like death and black like nothingness. It loomed as a void of color rather than a color itself. It had many mouths—too many to count—from which it boomed its words. These mouths were caverns of gross malady from which spewed vehement clusters of acidic filth—violet, putrid sludge that burned through flesh and earth, incinerating its way deep underground where it fell. Upon it, there were no arms or hands that appeared to reach; there were no legs or feet that appeared to shuffle or transport. This World-Scarrer stood solely as a massive pillar, dealing in demise and devastation.

TDV 88: The Protean Birth Enigma

October 21st, 2014 by Sharkchild

Although I slept and although I dreamt, I was not at rest. My muscles perpetually flexed while the blood surging through my veins heated my damp, rank flesh. My eyes jutted beneath their lids, absorbing an orange light that radiated heat upon me and into the core of my mind’s visions.

Time passed exceedingly slow as I plodded from dream to dream without connection or interest, excitement or fear. I was unwillingly and strangely detached from foreboding scenes of gargantuan, ominous beings invoking their power across the universe. In each of these dreams I, too, played the role of such a being, but I was void of their knowledge and purpose; I was a wayward ghost struggling to find its escape. This disunion brought nothing but the incessant fight to awaken, free myself from this obscure oblivion, and probe the physical realm beyond my sleep where the drenching orange glow saturated my clenching body.

TDV 87: The Apocalypse Bringers

May 28th, 2014 by Sharkchild

A destroyed moon lay dispersed across the sky. Its fragments reflected a pale, red light. In front of these debris, a great multitude of meteors reached the atmosphere, raining across the land in streaks of flame. Concussions resounded in every direction that amplified the pandemonium of this planet’s final hours.

“Sidideris desiterkan durs forlektis,” my master proclaimed as he reveled in these grandiose moments of destruction. He revealed his speared teeth while smiling. As he did so, he flipped his long, red tongue just outside of his lips. His bare, burgundy, muscular chest flexed with approval. Veins rippled throughout his upper body and arms at their height hundreds of yards off the ground. One, lone eye sat as a gaping black hole within his face and oscillating, flaccid flesh made sounds of suction and popping as it churned across the top of his head.


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