Through a glass, darkly

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I love you as certain dark things are to be loved, in secret, between the shadow and the soul.


    **Mudlarking by Moonlight

    Tariq
    Tariq
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    Posts : 466
    Join date : 2012-05-13

    **Mudlarking by Moonlight  Empty **Mudlarking by Moonlight

    Post  Tariq Wed Dec 25, 2019 8:39 pm

    He knew, of course, that it was a ridiculous proposition to pick through the muddy banks of the river at night. But the boy was in a foul temper, his thoughts stained red with anger, and he could think of no better place to stew alone than on the shore of the black river.

    The inlet was littered with bottles and the decaying fibers of frayed nets but it did not keep him from kicking off his shoes once he made his way below the deserted road. The soft, sandy mud squelching between his bare toes brought him savage pleasure and he broke into an uneven run for the joy of it. The cold spray of river mist and the gentle lapping of water were familiar companions. He felt the tension in his back unspooling as he bent for an enticingly smooth stone. The full moon's reflection broke as the stone's splashing sent ripples through the dark water. Its silvery light illuminated the shore and he felt it a sufficient guide to unearth a treasure or two.

    He picked carefully along the edge of the water, every gleaming stone or shard of glass carefully scrutinized for its potential value before being discarded. A pretty jade ring of sea glass just the right size to be strung on a cord sent him fantasizing about a necklace and he pocketed it with his eyes already returned to the ground.

    The hoarse croaking of the frogs and buzzing insects swallowed the sounds of human life around his private island. It was easy to imagine he was alone in a wild place.

    A lump of limp feathers and glinting white bone gave him brief pause - the bird was headless, its ribs exposed to the moonlight, but it had not decayed here. The kill was fresh, as evidenced by the frothed smear of blood washing into the river.

    He thought dimly of a cat and stepped through the reeds to examine for tracks.

    Something sleek and swift moved in the water and he recoiled, his heart thumping with such fervor he could feel it in his fingertips. He peered into the dark water and tried to dredge up the name of a fish large enough to have roiled so. It had moved so serpentine that all he could imagine were man-eating anacondas and venomous cobras, all fangs and scales and gaping, hungry mouths.

    Unnerved, he glanced further down the bank and caught sight of a silver gleam. It winked out too quickly to discern, but this lead was too tantalizing to abandon and he wiped his dirty palms on his thighs and trudged onward, skirting the area in which he had seen the movement.

    The slope of the shore was gentler where he had seen the glimmer. The boy crept to the water's edge up to his mud-blackened ankles and looked across the river with his hands on his hips. Something sparked in the corner of his vision, close to his feet, and he quickly turned to catch the twin lights.

    He realized with yawning horror his mistake.

    They were eyes. White eyes beneath pale hair like a drowned horse's mane; bright eyes in the head of some black creature, some predatory, lurking beast that had the audacity to resemble something almost human.

    He scrambled backward but lost his footing in the soft sand and fell hard on his backside. The creature was quick, serpent quick and it was upon him before he had a chance to rise, to even scrabble for purchase in the smooth mud.

    Vaguely, he registered that the frog-call had cut off. The riverbank had fallen into an eerie silence.

    The creature's skin gleamed black and wet in the moonlight. He could see the delicate engraving of its scales, its belly dappled with a speckling of white and grey that trailed to its inner elbow. Although it had arms and a chest, its torso ended in a sinuous tail and sleek fins. The way it moved its head, blindly turning to scent him, it was clear those eerie, pale eyes did not possess sight.

    The creature pinned his wrists to the ground with bruising force, the weight of its body holding him fast to the mud. Its skin was warm and startlingly soft - he would have imagined cutting scales or perhaps slime, not this seal's velvet.

    When it opened its mouth there were far too many bone-white teeth in its sharp jaw.

    "N-no," he said hoarsely, more out of instinct than any conscious attempt to reason with this creature. "Stop!"

    He kicked, squirmed, felt immediately the futility of his struggle against the muscular body that pinned him. The beast raised its head and examined him with a cold, reptilian intelligence and for a moment the boy was certain it had understood his plea. But then its mouth twisted into a smile and it bent its head to his exposed neck.

    He could feel its hot breath on his throat and he stiffened, his breath dying in his chest. He turned his head to the side. His fingers curled into his captive palms so tightly he could feel his fingernails dig into the flesh.

    Its teeth were cold as river-stones where they dragged along the thin skin of his throat. He jumped as pain sizzled through his nerves. He could feel hot tears in his eyes but his teeth were clenched so tightly he could not utter a sound.

    But the creature had not torn out his throat. Instead its warm mouth was sucking at the wound made by its teeth, lapping at the blood that bubbled up like a sacred spring to its lips as a cat would fresh cream.

    The boy opened his eyes. For a moment, he dared to breathe.

    He had not taken note of how the creature's tail had coiled around his legs, how it had fastened upon him like a snake wound about a helpless rat. It was only one sharp movement and the breath was knocked from his chest as he was flipped around, face-first in the mud. It was only one more that he was dragged, fingernails scrabbling helplessly, into the black water of the quiet river.

    He saw bubbles, a trail of glittering white that he realized was coming from his own mouth. He couldn't breathe. There were dark shapes in the water. There was the feeling of that hot, sharp mouth on his neck. He couldn't breathe. His sodden clothes had sloughed off, or perhaps they were just torn, tattered, and he was skin on skin with the creature, weightless and graceful in the water. Something firm and insistent pressed against his stomach and he thought it was dreadfully familiar. He couldn't breathe.

    The scene was still confusion and silent, thrashing panic when his vision went still and faded to black.

    It was the sunrise - the harsh, glaring light - that awakened him. When he moved to shield his eyes, the motion sent a wave of dull pain pulsing through his aching body. There was grit on his tongue, water vines snaking up his bare calf, mud and sand chafing his skin where he had been unceremoniously flung to the shore but somehow, miraculously, he had not been drowned.

    He clenched his fist and confusedly found something hard in his palm. Blearily, he brought it to his eyes. The images swimming before his eyes slowly began to merge into one picture.

    Clutched in his palm so firmly it left an imprint in the skin was a pretty ring of jade sea glass.

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