Archive for the ‘The Dark Verse’ Category

TDV 108: The Sermon Of The Shadow In Darkness

June 17th, 2017 by Sharkchild

I have seen the Shadow in Darkness—a shadow within pitch blackness. Where darkness ends and a truer black begins—a corrosion of color and a void of anti-creation. An obliterator of sight. An obliterator of mind.

I have felt the Shadow in Darkness—a shadow cast not by the inhibition of light, but from the suffocating of space. A presence not of matter, but of spirit, existing in form and shifting away that which should be. A distortion of time. A distortion of place. A slaying of comfort and of courage and of wholesomeness.

I have succumbed to the Shadow in Darkness—a shadow that provokes its will without persuasion or strength. An omniscient knife that cuts through the immaterial apart from doctrine or creed. What it touches, nevermore the same.


TDV 107: The Celestial Mover

May 25th, 2017 by Sharkchild

The roll down door of my storage unit hit the ground with a thud. I slid the bolt, inserted the cylinder lock, twisted, and pulled out the key. On the other side, ten by fifteen feet of junk—not quite insignificant enough to give away, but not nearly practical enough to have around—lay gratifyingly stowed away out of my sight and, more importantly, out of my mind.

I walked with one of the loaner flatbed dollies down a walkway towards the elevator. Soothing wave music softly played over the sound system. Long, empty halls, dozens of secured storage units, a diverse assortment of different colored and styled locks, and eerie quietude—like the tucked away corners of an expansive library, this personal storage facility evoked a dense air of wonder.


TDV 106: Apathindying

April 21st, 2017 by Sharkchild

In the pit of night, in a barren land, beneath and within leafless oaks and upon untrodden soils, a gathering of vagabond Magic Bleeders shared in their woes around the warmth of communal flames. Distant battles painted the sky with colorful sparkles and bursts of glimmering energy that cut through the fissures of the branches.

Amongst those assembled, a bearded old man detached his hands at the wrists and floated them to a location within the top of the bonfire where the flames lapped up and kissed their bases. The hands burned and while they did they proceeded to cast out a riveting melody with the cracking of knuckles. Each finger popped different notes with its joints, collectively achieving a composition that uplifted the somber congregation. The tone of the music changed and enriched as the flesh shriveled.


GIVEAWAY

Comment on this post before 12:00PM PST on Saturday, April 22, 2017 to be entered in a chance to win a:

HARDCOVER COPY OF
THE SPIRIT COLLECTORS

Winners will be chosen at random (at random.org) from the entrants after the cutoff at 12:00PM PST on April 22, 2017 and will be announced by Sharkchild via email and on this post within 24 hours after the end of the contest.

The winners can be anywhere in the world! The winners must be at least 13 years of age. One (1) valid entry allowed per person. A winner must respond to Sharkchild’s email within five (5) days to claim a prize.

Winner:
Amber Williams (16)

patreon-ad

TDV 105: The Supplicants Of Pain

April 2nd, 2017 by Sharkchild

In memory, what I saw felt only as a dream—a picture so surreal that only the wild and deviant subconscious should have been able to conjure such a display. I doubted many of the account’s details over time as knowledge and experience established a clear border between reality and fantasy. Even with the event elaborated upon the permanence of paper, a goblin of the mind worked to discredit its authenticity. But, when I saw my sister—when I saw her work and show the power of her tainted existence—the foreboding truth of this remembrance always struck forth.

I was four years old and playing alongside my sister in the bedroom we shared. She was one year older than I and was occupied by amusements apart from my own. Before me, an array of fantastical figurines were sprawled amidst a battle at the foot of a wooden block tower. I placed a ghost figurine at the pinnacle of the makeshift structure—an overlord preparing to weigh in upon the struggle with its mighty magic. I remember staring into its wide, black eyes when the pounding cadence began. I knew the sound; it was the rattle of our bedroom’s sliding, mirrored closet door.


GIVEAWAY

Comment on this post before 12:00PM PST on Tuesday, April 4, 2017 to be entered in a chance to win one of two (2):

HARDCOVER COPIES OF
THE DARK VERSE, VOL. 2

Winners will be chosen at random (at random.org) from the entrants after the cutoff at 12:00PM PST on March 5, 2017 and will be announced by Sharkchild via email and on this post within 24 hours after the end of the contest.

The winners can be anywhere in the world! The winners must be at least 13 years of age. One (1) valid entry allowed per person. A winner must respond to Sharkchild’s email within five (5) days to claim a prize.

patreon-ad

TDV 104: Everyone’s Whisper Sounds The Same

March 3rd, 2017 by Sharkchild

My wife turned out the lights, crawled into bed with me, and whispered, “I love you,” into my ear before giving me a kiss on the lips.

“I love you, too,” I whispered back.

I turned my way and she hers, and we faded into slumber.

“Wake up, wake up,” my wife said to me as she ruffled my hair and kissed me on the forehead. “We have a fun day ahead.” When she said “fun,” she meant “long.”

I grumbled and burrowed my face into my pillow.

“Oh, come on. It won’t be that bad,” she said in response, pushing my shoulder.

“The last time you said that I ended up living a second life while we wandered through that giant furniture store’s maze of madness,” I said into the pillow.

“Up!” My wife pulled off my sheets.

“Alright, alright, I’m up—and I hate it when you do that.” I stood up and, in retaliation, tossed her onto the bed before playfully hitting her with my pillow.

The day started with a stop at a department store and its connecting mall to refresh the wardrobes for spring. Then it veered to a coffee shop before jumping to an art exhibit. We spent half an hour at a store picking up gifts for a baby shower my wife was to attend and then another hour savoring lunch at a quaint cafe she had been eyeing. Next we journeyed to a specialty decor store to look at a specific line of vintage office furniture and accessories. We purchased a rustic, wood mail sorter and a brass lamp with a medieval tower base before we were on the road again.


GIVEAWAY

Comment on this post before 12:00PM PST on Sunday, March 5, 2017 to be entered in a chance to win:

A HARDCOVER COPY OF
THE SPIRIT COLLECTORS

Winners will be chosen at random (at random.org) from the entrants after the cutoff at 12:00PM PST on March 5, 2017 and will be announced by Sharkchild via email and on this post within 24 hours after the end of the contest.

The winners can be anywhere in the world! The winners must be at least 13 years of age. One (1) valid entry allowed per person. A winner must respond to Sharkchild’s email within five (5) days to claim a prize.

Winner:
sherry fundin (17)

patreon-ad