The Shore of Lost Souls

puncakbukit (78)in #photography • last month

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The waves whispered a warning as they slid across the dark sand, their foam like skeletal fingers reaching for the shore. The little fishing boat, a friendly blue and white in the golden light of dawn, was no longer a vessel of hope but a cage. It was tied to a world that was fading into a colorless gray, the familiar green hills in the distance now a looming, featureless wall of shadow.

The nightmare began as the sky bled from serene blue to a sickly, jaundiced yellow, and the sun, a cold and indifferent eye, offered no warmth. A chilling mist crept in from the horizon, swallowing the sea and the distant land. The air grew heavy, and the gentle lapping of the waves became a frantic, hollow thudding, a pulse that quickened with an unspoken dread.

The boat started to rock violently on the now choppy water, its ropes strained to their breaking point. The unseen presence from the mist was pulling it, dragging it toward the endless darkness. A silent scream caught in my throat as I watched the shore, my only refuge, disappear, and knew I was being pulled into a world of eternal night.

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The Shore of Lost Souls