The World Undersea

The World Undersea (Image)

Artwork by Tommy Chandra

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From the memoirs of the late Jarod Grimes, of Edgewall:

There is a patch of shore, nestled in the distant reaches of the enigmatic South, where the fearless and faithless go to drown. It is no small blessing that the journey there from lands civilized is long and arduous and fraught with peril, for I fear that should the mountains that keep its malevolence at bay crumble into dust, the allure of its accursed madness may prove too much for even the most sensible of good folk.

At first glance, the beach looks innocuous enough, even pretty. The craggy slopes that line it are shingled and steep, but its cerulean waters sparkle brightly in the sunlight, and its pale sands are soft underfoot. Indeed, the casual visitor – were there any – would have little reason to suspect anything amiss as they walked across its length, but for the odd scrap of abandoned clothing and the inexplicable silence of nature.

But on moonless nights, furtive silhouettes break from the surrounding groves and stride forth into the lapping waves. Where they exit the treeline they sometimes leave a small heap of worldly effects – but often by this time they have none left, having spent all their worth in the last villages on a final spree of drink and debauchery. The figures clutch chiselled fragments of sharpened rock close to their chests as they wade intently through the dark water out to sea. Once they can walk no further they stop, and as they grip their makeshift knives tight even the wind stops breathing.

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Stygian Road [Part Two]

The car sped swiftly down that dark road. The tunnel wasn’t completely devoid of light, as it had initially seemed. Soft glows, regularly spaced on both sides of the road, emanated from ceiling panels. Together with the reflection of the headlights, there was just enough illumination to paint the interior of the Uber into thick, shadowy shapes. The only other light came from the screen of the driver’s phone; a rectangular block of faux light bobbing up and down above the gearshift.

The display of the navigation app hadn’t changed significantly for a long time. The tunnel appeared more or less straight with neither exit nor end, and the little vehicle icon followed it diligently. Where normally would be the driving directions and remaining travel time was left blank.

After the initial screaming and cursing had left him with a throbbing headache and an aching throat, the backseat had become a flurry of scratching and scrabbling as Howard had tried to break free of his restraints. But the seat belt had constricted further, making it impossible to squirm his head and shoulders through the bottom gap. He had tried to grab the seat in front of him, but, oddly enough, it was too… distant. His outstretched hands were just a tad too short to reach it, even as the dimensions of the car appeared normal. Eventually, he had given up, and, staring at the headrest in front of him, he again considered all that had occurred.

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Stygian Road [Part One]

The morning sun did little to warm his bones, Howard regarded dismally, as he shifted his weight on the stony tiles. A light breeze made its way up the street, sending leaves and detritus swirling aloft. People strode on by, their trench coats and briefcases flapping about noisily in the early winter chill. They navigated around each other with adept ease, gaze unmoved from phones or floor.

There was something to be said about the casual mundanity of a near-death experience in the big city, Howard pondered. Oh yes, there had been a hue and cry, and the shouting and shrieking had maybe lasted a good ten seconds, but after that you would have scarcely noticed that an accident had happened, apart from the odd pile of rubble. One lady might have even whisked her phone out to call the police, he had noticed, but then again perhaps she had called her friend – named James, he thought – to tell him about the scaffolding that had came loose from its host building and crashed down onto the sidewalk below.

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