mint green_nibble · 0 hearts · 0 replies

Mist rolled over the abandoned harbour as a single lantern swayed in the wind. A figure stepped onto the creaking pier, leaving footprints that the tide quickly erased, unaware that something beneath the dark water slowly stirred in response. The figure paused at the end of the warped pier, breath clouding faintly in the moonlight. A faint gurgle rose from the black water below, as if the sea itself was whispering secrets in a tongue half-forgotten. He glanced over his shoulder, but the harbour lay empty, swallowed by the fog. The lantern flickered, casting jagged shadows over the bobbing crates and seaweed-slick pilings. Something shifted against the hull of a half-sunken boat. A slow ripple spread outward, disturbingly deliberate. He crouched, straining his ears; the only sound was the soft hiss of the tide drawing back through the broken stones of the quay. Then—a faint scrape, metal on wood. He stood quickly, the rotting boards beneath his boots groaning in protest. The lantern’s flame flared, revealing a pattern scratched into the planks at his feet: a spiral, etched deep and recent. Heart pounding, he stumbled back, eyes darting to the water. A pale, glistening hand broke the surface. He froze, unable to look away as more fingers followed, grasping the pier with inhuman slowness. Water sluiced off skin that seemed too smooth, too reflective, and eyes like pieces of the night itself stared up through the rippling black. The figure whispered, its voice carrying a hush like the fog: “You heard us.” He turned and ran, boots hammering along the pier, but the fog closed in tight, and the way back seemed to twist in on itself. Behind him, the sound of water sloshing grew louder, closer, accompanied by the soft thud of something climbing the timber. He dared to glance back—shadows moved where no lantern-light reached. A shriek of gulls split the air suddenly, and he stumbled into the open square of the harbour. The abandoned market stalls loomed like skeletal remains…