The Obsidian Shore

One man's descent into madness on an impossible shore...

T

he shore was as black as the sky. A haunting, desolate landscape. There was no sand - that even, was replaced by obsidian pebbles that reflected the black of space so perfectly. There was no sound. The ocean had long ago grown quiet & still. The only light was the cold, dead light of the moon, hanging red and pregnant in the sky - so much bigger than it should be. The reflection off the ocean was only slightly rippled, as the water massaged its surface. This was the scene to which I opened my eyes - I was a newborn, naked and confused. This place felt… wrong. It was the kind of place where mortals were susceptible to the onset of madness. Like an overripe forest, colours too vivid, its smells too sweet. Except that this was the opposite. It was sensory deprivation. The impersonal blackness seeping around me like syrup. I started walking. The sound of my feet on the black stones sounding unnaturally loud. It might well be the first sounds to invade this hopeless place in aeons. It was slow going. My shoeless feet getting bloodied & raw on the sharp little knives that substituted the beach sand. Beach? No. The word invoked sun & laughter. This was no beach. Shore. The frigid nature of the word being a more proper fit - but human speech has no equivalent to capture the desolation & dark & cold. Despite the ache & burn of my feet, I could not stand still. I had to get away. I needed to be anywhere but here. I already imagined this soulless ocean creeping quietly closer, silently crawling over the obsidian grains. It was paranoia. I pushed it from my mind, ignoring the screams in my head telling me to run as fast as I can. By this time I had already started limping. I turned away from the water… the liquid. This can’t be the cool, bright waters that I know. I needed to get away from this ocean, its horrors real or imagined. Again my imagination got the better of me. To my raw eardrums - grinded down by the lack of sound, I thought I heard a second set of feet walking next to me, I imagined hearing this over the crunch of the sand & the laboured breathing. I stopped. Nothing. Time was hard to judge - the fever-moon hanging forever in the same spot. I heard the footsteps again. Could my mind be so far gone? So affected by this place? Forgetting rationality & pain I started running. Away from the ocean & its moon. Away from the fever & the madness & the footsteps. It felt like hours that I ran. Eventually my body gave way in exhaustion & hurt. I fell to the ground. For the first time I turned back, expecting to see the stretch of obsidian reflecting nothingness. Instead… I saw the ocean. Black and so impossibly quiet. The moon, red in malevolence looking down upon me. Despair. It’s all there is. Despair. And madness. I gave in to the insanity and screamed - raw, eviscerating screams as I beheld the stumps of what ceased to be my feet hours ago.

Author's Note

Just a first post here. Very little rework done