Scottie Seashells

I write

[tylerscott-blog1]

Picture: And Into The Blue We Go by Cat (criminol)

Artist’s page: http://criminol.deviantart.com/

It was a few years ago, that’s what it feels like, since we went into the cave. The two of us were exploring the parts of the beach we were never allowed to go near when we were younger when we found it. From the outside we could see just one of those runestones shining in the darkness of the tunnel. Ezmai just had to go see what it was and I wasn’t going to let her go by herself, we had no idea what kind of monsters could be hiding in here. I still don’t, really. The further we got, the more and more of those blue runestones we found. They have these strange symbols I’ve never seen before. Ezmai thought the stones were the best thing she’d ever seen. She wanted to take as many as she could home with us, but that wouldn’t have been a good idea. If our parents knew where the rocks came from then we would have been in so much trouble. But I should have let her, no punishment our parents could have been too harsh. We found a pond some minutes of searching the tunnel, its murky blue water somehow forming small walls that crashed onto the rocky floor. More of the blue lights from the runestones were hanging from the ceiling, some almost reached the ground. The pool captivated her. Ezmai sat by the water and became entranced by its waves. She began to hum songs to them, some that I could make out and others she must have been making up. Then the waves started moving to the sound of her humming, growing bigger and smaller as she changed tunes. That was enough for me. I tried to get her to leave, to move even, and she didn’t. She couldn’t. I ran back to the entrance to try to find someone to help, but it wasn’t there. I know it was the same spot, that one little runestone was there to mark it. It just wasn’t there, like it closed up. And that was so long ago. Still here, and her still sitting in that same spot by the water. Never once has she stopped her humming in all of this time. Never once has she looked away from the waves. I don’t think any will come to take us home, there isn’t a way in or out anymore. Neither of us has had any food or water - I refuse to touch that bile in the pool - since before we had journeyed in; I don’t even think we can die to escape. The blue will keep us here forever, unless it doesn’t need us anymore. And, now, that’s what I’m scared of the most.

Then Ezmai stopped her humming.

[tylerscott-blog1]

Picture: Purple Castle by Amin Chami (AmineCH)

Artist’s page: http://aminech.deviantart.com/

It’s as close to the sky as a man can get, I think that’s why they built it. Why else would it be in the middle of nowhere? Somebody with money and a crown wanted it done, so it got done, that’s how things usually went these days. I know the one who did it, too, the little bastard. The ground must have not been enough for the prince so he looked to the sky to expand his undeserved kingdom. I hope his father lives forever; how such a great man could spawn such a devil of a son is beyond me. The day he becomes ruler of these lands is the day all we’ve come to know turns to rubble. Possibly the beasts of the sky may not like this new intrusion of their space and burn the whole castle back to the ground. Now that would be something to see, perhaps I should summon them. But that would leave our king to grieve for quiet some time, and he hasn’t always made the best decision when his emotions are able to best him. However, it would solve our little problem of having a power hungry tyrant being in control of an entire nation in the years to come. Every decision always has its ups and downs, I suppose. You can never truly win. Still, a grieving king would be far less of a headache than the alternative. I should let the clan know of my newest, brilliant idea. All i can ask for is that this doesn’t put the king on his death bed. Then, gods be damned, we’d have to deal with his daughter.

[tylerscott-blog1]

Picture: Trail of Ruins by Michael Allrich (onlychasing-safety)

Artist’s page: http://onlychasing-safety.deviantart.com/

Hundreds of years had passed sense he’d been there. It looked much nicer back then, but so did everything else, back before the wars. If only he could share his immortality with the world, then it wouldn’t have become so broken. There would still be grass covering the fields he found himself passing through daily. Green grass, real green, not like the dying strands that hardly sprouted out of the earth these days. The day’s sky would be blue again instead of the gloomy, dull shades it had changed into. Maybe the air wouldn’t have that disgusting tang to it that made it hard to take in every breath if he could share his gift. His curse, rather. Immorality seemed great at first, and it was. In the beginning it allowed him to roam freely from what he knew to take on challenges and adventures where ever his heart led him, and unlimited time to gain unlimited knowledge. It was amazing, but it was lonely. Friends grew old and passed, kingdoms came and went, and all he was left with was the memories made along the way. Eventually the world had an entire new set of people, a new feel. New rules. This generation of lives brought with them a whole new ideology on what their world should be. They ruined everything. All anyone ever wanted was what the others had, and they fought until they got it. This new way of life, unlike the one before, was passed down and followed by the next generation, and the next, and the ones after that until there was almost no one left to fight. There was nothing left to do, no where left to go that hadn’t been destroyed in the countless battles that scarred the world he once knew. That world was never coming back. So he went back to where it all started, to a place he knew he could at least continue his never ending life in peace. Home. But home was there no more. Peace was no more.

[tylerscott-blog1]

Picture: Bay of Oblivion by Sergey Likhachev (batkya)

Artist’s page: http://batkya.deviantart.com/

The shore was nice once, beautiful even, before all of the fighting. To those leaving Listera, the divine home of our gods, they were greeted by the mainland’s gorgeous beach and vibrant overgrowth, now grey and dull. Soft, warm sand that played with and kissed the crashing waters of the sea turned hard and icy leaving the calm waters alone. The collection of greens in the form of trees and plants became dark and petrified, forever rotting where they stood. There were no more visitors coming to spend time here; the ones unfortunate enough to get caught up in the mess had their lives taken or... or met a similar fate as the rest of the bay. There was no escaping it, either. Once it all had started and Cenna had drowned the path back, there wasn’t anywhere else to go. All that’s left in the field of destruction some used to call a home is the seemingly unlimited amount of magics still swirling through the planes like its own living beast and the ones who fell victim to it. Those are the ones who deserve the most sympathy. Not the ones who perished but the ones who are now cursed to walk the Dead Lands forever, searching for some way to end their suffering.

[tylerscott-blog1]

Picture: Hall of the Ancients by Michael Allrich (onlychasing-safety)

Artist’s page: http://onlychasing-safety.deviantart.com/

It had taken decades to carve out all ten faces in the hall, but after the years of hard work it had all been finished. Yet one question still stood: Should there even be ten? The Great War had been the result of the monstrous acts of the most infamous of the acolytes, and many agreed he should not get a statue in his honor. But they were made for more than just honor. The carvings of the hall stand as reminders of where we all came from and each acolytes role in shaping the world as it is today, even the worst roles. History is what shapes the future, and if we are ignorant enough to intentionally forget then we will be crippled in the days to come. We cannot be so dismissive of our faults or we will be doomed to repeat them. You must take ownership over your actions, and learn the consequences. With all of that said I expect the person who has mocked the work of hundreds by destroying Ruben’s monument. 

But I did it. I couldn’t stand him looking at me anymore.

[tylerscott-blog1]

Picture: Hall by Cappi-ka

The temple is beautiful. Well, was. Still, I think it a work of art. There was once a time where we would go some times a week and worship the Divine Three: Gaius, god of balance, and the twins Euma and Cenna, goddesses of Life and Death. Most days we would see one of their acolytes, Ruben, using the power they had given him to search the world for the ones who needed his help. The sick, the injured, the broken could all rely on him to find them and put his strength into them. Ruben was such a good man. But that was before all of this happened. It was before he turned his back on the gods, on all of us, and started spreading his lies to anyone who would listen, before he took the lives of the other acolytes to weaken the gods and strengthen himself, and before he started a war that ruined our world. Even now all these years later, there are the proud and dangerous few who believe him to be a hero of man. But we know heroes don’t get trapped in their own tormenting realm. Unfortunately, I believe that’s where my story takes us. I fear his followers have found a way to release him from his prison, out into the world again. They can’t do this alone; they don’t have the resources, but I think they have found a soul who does. And if they have learned anything from this man that they worship, they will be able to lie a way into this soul’s heart and convince it to cater to them. If that happens- When that happens, I don’t think my nor my son’s power will be enough to stop him. He knows me too well for that.

[tylerscott-blog1]

Picture: The Escape by InfectedMaiden

“It wasn’t my fault, I really wasn’t even there. Like I said, it was all in a dream. I went to sleep in my bed at home, and the next thing I knew I was outside. It was freezing cold, with snow covering the ground like a big blanket. It doesn’t even snow around here; I’ve never seen snow in person before in my life. I couldn’t move, couldn’t hear anything, I thought I was dying. I tried to scream for help but I couldn’t do that either, just feel the cold. After a minute or so is when it all happened. The first thing I heard was a loud slam; the door of the cabin was thrown open and a man all bloody and bruised stumbled out. He - you said his name was Hamal, right - started walking towards me. He was breathing really hard, like it was a chore for him to do. He was struggling to stay on his feet, and even at one point fell to the ground where he laid for a good minute  before pulling himself back up. Hamal was bleeding bad; he left a pool of blood in the snow where he fell. But he kept coming, walking towards me. I wanted to run up and help him, find out what’s wrong, but I still couldn’t move. I don’t think he could see me at this point. An arrow flew by and landed in the tree behind him. That’s when he picked up his pace. That hurt him to do, I could see him wincing in pain as he held his sides where blood kept pouring. Two more arrows came, and hit him in the leg. Hamal pulled them out and kept going. He walked right in front of me, and looked at where I was laying on the ground. This was the only time he acknowledged i was there. He looked at he dead in the eyes and said ‘Tell everyone.’ before a final arrow struck him in the throat. He fell forward onto me and all of the sudden I was in my bed again. I didn’t know what it all meant, I didn’t know where it was or who any of those people were or why it was all happening. Or more importantly why I was there. But I wasn’t there, I just saw it. And that’s why I came in, because the man told me to. I didn’t have anything to do with it I swear, I just wanted to help. You can’t put me back in there with those killers, I won’t make it through the night. Please, I’m begging you.”

-Viv Kord, Statement, 8 Winter 3 Day

[tylerscott-blog1]

Picture: Peak by BDraw2012

I know what’s on the other side. I went once, even though I’m not supposed to. It was at the end of my watch about a year ago back when I had just started work at the Peak. Everyday had been the same; I’d show up and let whoever was watching before me go home, sit for a few hours while nothing happened, and then leave. Except on that day I got a little curious. No one even knew what we were watching the portal for and no one ever showed any interest in finding out, so I took it upon myself. I had maybe half an hour left on my eight hour watch. No one would know; we always do our shifts one at a time. I went out of our little stone station out onto the Peak and walked closer to the portal. My feet felt heavier with each step closer, and it was getting hard to walk straight.  Without even noticing, I had almost went right off the ledge. When I was right in front of it, I could hear the crackling of old magics in the air, swirling around the portal and preserving its power. I’m not stupid, I only stuck my head through. If there was anything dangerous on the other side, I could just pull out and run away. I wasn’t expecting much of what I would see, but still I was disappointed. On the other side was a lot of green. There was grass that was actually alive, and tress swaying in the wind. I could see for miles under the sun that was too bright to live under. Just a bit away from the portal, was a wooden hunt that reminded me of our stone station. A man - I think - ran out to greet me. He stood and walked like a man but his skin was a tanned brown, not like our grey flesh, and his eyes were blue like water and not black like our midday sky. And he didn’t even have wings. The ‘man’ ran out of the hut and shouted something at me in a weird language. I don’t really know what it meant, but he seemed upset. Was he on Peak duty too? I wasn’t able to find out, because he picked up a rock and threw it at me. Or near me rather, his aim was piss poor. At that point I’d seen enough, and the shouting ‘man’ was starting to make my ears ring. Oh, his ears were these little round button-like gibs on the sides of his head, they weren’t pointed or anything! How could one even hear out of those little things? Anyway, I took my head away and again saw our side of the Peak, but I still heard shouting. Behind me was the next watch, yelling and asking what I was doing with an absolutely horrified look on his face. I just shrugged it off and went home; what’s the point of watching over some glow rock if we can’t even get a closer look? 

After hearing that guy died that night after I left, I decided to quit. He was beaten over the head with a rock and a note stuck to it with his blood. It was written in some archaic type of language that none of us understood, but i think it was the tan man and his friends. It wasn’t worth staying around to watch, wasting my days away in boredom AND also be in danger. I haven’t told anyone else that I looked through. They might try to blame me for that other guy dying. I bet he got curious too and the shouting gibberish man got mad at him. 

[tylerscott-blog1]

Picture: Horizon by Mickael Forrett

There’s always just too much walking. First you would have to get through the absolutely disgusting wetlands to the spire, then climb a disgusting tower of stairs all the way up to the top, only to then cross the bridge that should have just been built on the ground. And it was disgusting. Why her merry family of hunters picked here of all places to make a home, she had no idea. It was difficult enough making the journey by yourself, but it was multiple times worse when ‘escorting prize,’ as they all called it. And oh, she had a prize alright.

Walking a few paces in front of her on the bridge was none other than the great Sabo Ike, the newly appointed head of Horizon’s Council, the man who would bring a fortune of wealth to her band of misfits once they sold him back to the city unharmed. Well, slightly harmed. His finely tailored white suit was now grey and brown from the days of travel they’d just done, and his nice shoes were covered in mud. Even still, it was much cleaner than her fading black cloak she was wearing, with hood pushed up above her head, over her regular tightly fitted attire. Being discreet was key when hunting. He’d probably never seen so much dirt before in his life; he may have a heart attack when he sees the inside of their little bunker. And then they wouldn’t get paid, and that is what scared everyone the most. Sabo had walked the entire day in the same slumped over position with his head down and hands tied behind his back, shuffling along and never once speaking to her. And she was fine with that, his voice always reminded her of a door with squeaky hinges. How anyone could listen to this man give a speech was beyond her.

Sabo Ike quickened his steps so slightly before breaking out into what could kind of be described as a run. He hobbled his way towards the edge of the bridge, away from her, and she ran after him. “Hey! No no no. You don’t get to jump off.” she huffed while grabbing him by the back of his neck and slamming him down onto the stone walkway all in one swift motion. “You were being so good all the way here, what happened?” “You’re sick.” he groaned from his new spot on the ground. She didn’t need to throw him around that hard. But yea she did. “I’m not going to let some animals keep me locked up and torture me until they get bored and kill me anyway.” “We aren’t going to kill you, then you aren’t worth any money.” Did he really not understand that? Who would pay for a dead guy? She helped him up and shoved him forward to keep walking, “No more stupid business, okay?” “What would your parents say if they saw you doing this?” he spat out at her. She kicked him in the back of the leg, hard, making him fall once again. “Maybe you’ll get to ask them soon.” Fuck money.

It took at least ten more minutes, maybe twelve, to get to the other side of the bridge. “Don’t bring me in there, please. I know what happens to people like me when people like you capture me. Just end it here and now, please, please don’t bring me in there,” he pleaded to her when they reached the door to the gang’s hideout. It was kind of pathetic to listen to. “Okay.” She opened to door and shoved him in, “Not bringing you, you’re going on your own. Good luck.” She pulled the door shut before taking a seat on the ground putting the smooth wall on her back. From within, she heard the victorious whoops and hollering of her friends seeing what she’d brought them. He was basically a walking sack of gold, except more annoying and sweaty. When the noise finally died down a little, the door opened back and out stepped one of the other hunters. Gordon, a tall, strong, and extremely soft spoken person sat down next to her. “How’d you get him?” he questioned her. “In his sleep. He had his family moved out of the house somewhere more protected and he was alone, was pretty easy. Blind folded him for the first few days journey, he can’t give us away. How much you think we’re gonna be able to get?” Gordon sat silent for a second, staring down at the ground between them. “Lady, you know we can’t give him back right?” “What do you mean?” This wasn’t part of the plan. “If we let him go back home, he’ll just keep turning more and more senators to his side until he owns the whole city. Then he’ll never get prosecuted for what he’s done. We need to see if Iwu will lead the people better than he did.” “So what are we going to do for money for food? And better weapons? And since when did you get so into their politics?” “Have you forgotten all this man has done, to the city and even to your own family? We’re not letting him go back. I’m sorry, but the decision isn’t up to you.” Gordon stood up and dusted himself off, “Come inside when you’re ready, we set up feast for your honor. The boys want to celebrate with you, Lady, it was a great hunt.” “Can we even afford feast, you know, since we’re going to be a little lower on income than we thought?” He went back inside without answering. Why did they always have to be the good guys?

[tylerscott-blog1]

Picture: Early Rise by RVHochman

He hadn’t slept at all last night; it was right there. Right there between the trees soaking in the new morning’s sun. It was getting closer to the house every night, the shadow. The first time Chris saw it, he couldn’t even tell what it was, but each night as it got closer the shadow became easier to see, more detailed. It stood like a man and kind of looked like one too, but it wasn’t. It had ears like a jackal, standing up straight on the top of its head, and he could see its hands - sharp talon like fingers too long to be real. But it was real, and it came every night for the past couple of weeks. It stood there, just watching him in his room as he slept, or didn’t sleep. It watched and got closer, like a hunting animal readying to pounce on its prey. A few nights ago, on the shadow’s face Chris could see a crescent of white and he swore the thing was smiling at him. And the night before last, it was moving. Not moving closer just its head, shaking it back and forth so slowly. The same pace, all night. Back and forth, back and forth, as if it didn’t like what it saw all the way until the sun same up the next morning. It always disappeared when the sunlight met the trees. But what even is it, and what does it want with Chris’ cabin? 

And where were all the other hikers, anyway?

[tylerscott-blog1]

B fires an arrow and hits the bulls-eyes. Starts parading around.

M: Proud of yourself?

B: A little pride never hurt anyone.

M: Sure, but you have enough pride for the three of us and we still haven’t shot yet.