The Lake

In the beginning there was no separation between darkness and light. They melted together without subjective conscious minds. But then a great force rent existence apart in a single shuddering breath, time became the despot of life, and the two forces of all things were thrown as combatants into the coliseum of eternity.

As life was first inhaled by the earth, a reverberation echoed against her crust.

In the initial chaos a mistake was made. The Earth did not expand to her full extent, and there was a hidden darkness which could not be flushed from her depths. Between two broken crusts a body of water lies in wait, burning with malevolence.

It breathes with giant lungs, heaving in a murky gasp. Its surface is an impenetrable sheet of steely light, blinding in the morning sun and absorbent in darkening twilight. Underneath the veiled field of liquid tension are the depths. In these deepened areas there is no water. There is no anamorphic, constant circle of vapor, discharge, and pooling resources. There is something else.

In the hidden recesses of the sea lives a brooding consciousness, an ancient presence which hungers to break its fast. It yearns with a desperate must. It covets breath which is not enormous, heavy, and wet, like its own. It wants something delicate and warm.

In the brightening day a happy cluster of finger-painters gather around the creaking wood of the dock. Some timidly skim their soles across the surface, daring to test the frigid waters. Some glance at the depths and submit to widened pupils. They wrap their limbs with squeaking tubes and fill them with nervous breath. A strong voice cries out, punctuating with a screaming whistle, and the darkness of the waters are suddenly filled with splashing light.

The depths reach out and grasp the toes of little ones, dragging them to its black mouth. All light is devoured in its gluttony, and a great cry rises from mothers who outlive their children.

Reviews

[Skin]

In the brightening day a happy cluster of finger-painters gather around the creaking wood of the dock. Some timidly skim their soles across the surface, daring to test the frigid waters. Some glance at the depths and submit to widened pupils. They wrap their limbs with squeaking tubes and fill them with nervous breath. A strong voice cries out, punctuating with a screaming whistle, and the darkness of the waters are suddenly filled with splashing light.

The depths reach out and grasp the toes of little ones, dragging them to its black mouth. All light is devoured in its gluttony, and a great cry rises from mothers who outlive their children.

This is magnificent an entire universe in seven lines,
Beautiful Solid Real HONEST

Unlike all the claptrap written before it.

[Jez]

wow..... you need to teach me how to write a perfectly descriptive story like this! haha