In midnight's scope an ivory hand seized another blade. Trembling fingers twirled it between digits, eyes fixed and mascara smudged. Fatigue channeled her toward a fast paced tunnel of faces, muffled voices and...hell's infinity.
Through a heavy lidded stare a navy atmosphere warped and bled jewels from a gaping cancerous lesion. Tentacles whipped riotously about as copious threads with barbs and bulging orange bulbs oozed fluids. The moon dimmed as blisters burst across its pitted face. They emitted black fibers that encircled and compressed until it ruptured like a rotten grape.
As the raven exercised her utensil of exactitude her flaxen hands withered. The crystal sun fractured. Once scorching sections mitigated, left barely what it constricted from a womb. Its molten nadir trickled duel brass eyes. Where terrain met the firmament, the prospect divided. Crowing thunder revolved in the interval that pursued. A fleeting look gave the viewer an unambiguous portrait of the malice fermenting amongst bubbly vapors.
YOU ARE READING
The Ancient Chronicles: Short Stories
HorrorA mysterious entity born from chaos breaks free from a hellish womb. The stories within are documents of a other godly race that no mortal can possible begin to fathom. These are the Ancient Chronicles.
