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Villager's POV - Prison Break
🕑 Added 2021-06-11 17:58:05 +0000 UTC
The sun has just settled over the soft blanket of white fluffy clouds on the horizon, after another day of hard work, the celestial being must be as tired as the young farmer who worked all day on the old plot of land that belonged to his family for generations.
The skies are painted in a myriad of red and oranges, like the angry sunburn the young man sports on his pale forearms. He regrets not listening to his mama when she told him to wear a long sleeved shirt. In his defense the old seer of his village had forecasted dark times ahead, that could only mean rain, right?
He can already imagine the earful he is going to get once he gets home, which makes the desire to not go back even stronger. He could go to Lady's Heart Tavern, but he's not swimming in gold, yet. There is also the option that would better fit his currently empty pockets, the Red Rose Saloon, where all the fishermen go to 'unwind' after a stressful day fishing in the cold and murky waters of the Black Gulf.
No amount of gold could make him do what those men did, risking their life everyday in dark cursed waters, filled with dangerous and corrupted creatures, that barely resemble their past self, if they were ever different that is.
No one knows what exactly caused the Black Sea to become, well, black, and to the creatures living in it to evolve into stuff of nightmares.
Crazy old hags would shout at kids with disparagingly bloodshot eyes and rotten teeth of the day the darkest and most powerful star in the sky fell for their sins against the surface world, and with it they brought nothing but corruption and death.
Their dark essence seemed to poison the heart of even the purest of them all, the sun itself.
Of course he didn't believe the mad tales of falling stars that tainted the sea with dirty blood. He believes in the nine divines, like everyone else he knows, for he had seen miracles happen with his own two eyes, which only possible explanation was a god's work.
However, the existence of gods and magic are things that do not depend on the faith of men or any other race out there, they've existed way before time itself, and will continue to exist independently of mortal belief. The same couldn't be said about rumors and fabrications crafted by senile minds, that have lost all connection with reality.
Once they cease to exist so does their fantastical stories, such is the price of mortality. Tales have expiration date but divinity is eternal.
As the young man ponders how to spend the last hours of the day something he doesn't expect happens, the ground shakes. At first he can barely feel it, just a slight tremor, but as time ticks by, it gets notably worse and soon the whole village and coast line seems to be tilting away from the turbulent waters, as if scared of touching it.
The very earth beneath the man's feet appears to groan in agony, and standing becomes an impossible task, he soon lands on his face, panic and fear gripping his feeble mortal heart.
His first thoughts go to his mother and sisters that he left back at the house, from where he is only the blurry shape of it can be seen in the distance.
From his position he has the perfect view of the shoreline and the village comfortably nestled around it.
The village is littered with panicked cries and desperate wails from terrified parents trying to protect their kids from the collapsing houses. Many run desperately towards the empty streets and dirt roads, trying in vain to escape the earthquake that seems to rock the entire world.
The monument dedicated to the great god of the seas, placed at the center of village, crumbles to the ground, bits and pieces of white marble scattering in the wind like sand. The most pious of the villagers prostrate themselves on the ground around the tumbled statue. They beg and pray, asking for forgiveness, for whatever sins they've committed.
A dark shadow blocks the last rays of sunshine, in his bewildered state the young man looks up, and what he sees shocks him to the core. Flocks of thousands of birds fly in the same direction, like a colossal exodus, away from the black sea, their deafen screeching fills the darkening sky.
However, an even bigger flock flies in the opposite direction, one made entirely of crows. The falling man's eyes follow their small feathered bodies, covered in ebony plumage. Their beady eyes are focused solemnly on the epicenter of all the chaos, somewhere deep beneath the murky waters.
As the cloud of black birds passes above him, silence reigns unrivalled, the earth stops shaking and that is when he realizes how the previously green and lush surroundings turned dull and colourless, the very air appears to be still, drained of all life and warmth. The freshly planted wheat around his laid body becomes shriveled, green leafs and healthy stems wilt before his eyes, as does every patch of grass and tree across the land.
The silence is occasionally broken by falling debris and cries for help, but just when the young man thinks the worst has passed the fates seem to have a new surprise in store. One look in the direction of the docks has him in total shock, again.
The fishing vessels that until a second ago were floating gently on the murky waters of the black sea are now sunk to the bottom, wooden hulls stuck between rocks on the seabed. The water continues to recede, and soon the young man can see nothing but the bottom of the ocean, the place untouched by air and sun.
A colossal whirlpool forms in the distance, the size of it makes his village look like a grain of sand amidst a hurricane, it's far enough that he can barely make any details, that is until it explodes.
Before the devastating shockwave hit the small village and its residents, the skies explode and a cloud made of pure shadow shrouds the setting sun, throwing the world in darkness.
No one escapes.
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RightInTheGuts
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