Beckon the tide to rise to your feet! In today’s Quickwords, we tell the tale of what happened under the sands on which you now stand . . .
| The Beach that Burned |
| The beach was never meant to burn It was never meant to burn The fiercest flame could never hope to live a life of might Forever should the fractal sky be all that gave its light Even the wrath of Zeus might only turn the sand to glass And husks of ancient treants lay in graves the moon can’t pass The furious sun might singe the ground But nary a flame should spark Unless shields and blades lay buried Among bones armored in dark The arrows make like sticks and twigs Dead rage ignites among decay In the smoke clash the revenants Of a single crimson day The beach was never meant to burn It was never meant to burn |
| Beneath the shore |
| The sands hid a shrine never chiseled by mortal Tales told of cresting waves and erratic tides rare revealed a portal A chasm beneath, a chamber beneath Where the deepest of secrets wait Where flame was but one light required to the darkest spirits allay Leagues came anon and the cracks grew like vines Above clanged blades, screamed soldiers to a battle from which they’d be forgotten by time But beneath the shore, mission sole, ranks unwhole, a guild onward proceeded Later should the waves drag remnants of the better side of war, defeated |
| Obsidian Crown |
| We lay at his feet We atrophy A crown of rough obsidian cuts the skin of his temple Rivulets of red run ‘long his turned cheek Mimic the tears of stalactites The fangs of this maw The stakes of his flaw Words too cold to make mist pushed the heir aside Pierced that which had glowed in the chamber’s dark Left nothing save the myriad cries What we called a knight has lied What we fall to night beside |
