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The water was only slightly cool upon my feet as I bounded down the shoreline in a steady rhythm. Wet sand compressed beneath the soles of my feet. Moonlight from above broke through the black clouds that swept in from the South. A breeze blew warm, salty air across my face as I ran by condominiums. Some of them still had their lights. Considering that it was just past 4am, no one from the Friday night party was still up. Well, almost no one. The sun wasn't due for another couple of hours. I looked behind me and couldn't see my father down the shoreline. He was lost behind the small curves in the sand and the darkness.

[color=black]I tried googling pictures to show you guys my home, couldn't find any though that suited me*sadface*[/color]

I jumped over a dead lady fish that was missing a large chunk of the back end of its tail. Stepping on a slimy fish barefoot would have ruined my morning. The breeze from the South increased and I had to lean into it slightly, throwing off my rhythm. The last of the condos passed by as I ran through the pilings of a half built pier. A large bend in the shoreline ahead would lead me to a protected part of the beach. No development. I glanced over the black horizon and watched as a light flickered out. The flame of an oil rig or a light from a yacht. I cleared the bend and sped up. Almost half way there.

A sharp pain stabbed upwards through the heal of my foot. I hopped on the other and stopped. Feeling the bottom, I could find no traces of blood. The glint of a white point protruded from the sand. I bent down and grabbed the horn, expecting to find a conch shell underneath the sand. The effort I had to exert was more than I anticipated. What I pulled forth was five times the size of a conch but only slightly different in shape.

The stripped pattern that covered the giant shell was white and brown. I noticed I was seeing all to clearly and looked up quickly at the moon. It too had grown in size, almost one hundred and fifty percent. The sound of crashing waves made me drop the shell and look towards the sea. The tide had grown more vicious but it was sweeping outwards. My heartbeat quickened as turned back towards the way I came. The sweat on my skin instantly evaporated despite the suddenly strong humidity as my hairs stood on end.

I rounded the bend. There was no pier, no condos, no father. I looked to the South and saw no lights aside from the moon and stars. The withdrawing tide revealed large, flat surfaces of sand. Small tide pools formed in shallow depressions. I began to panic as I could not find anything of familiarity. Motion in the waves from my peripherals snapped my attention back to the sea. It was smooth and its skin glinted ever so slightly in the moonlight. Four clumsy flippers propelled a mass through the surf and across the sand. A long neck similar to a giraffes ended in a reptilian head filled with rows of teeth. The only noise it made was the clamp of its opening and closing jaw and the slap of its bulk across the wet sand.

The dragon of my horrors.

I fled down the shoreline without a thought.

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Posted by: destroyer13

« on: February 08, 2010, 07:17:57 pm »

Insert Quote

Sounds good yet sad to see that ur funeral will mean nothing to people of this generation for people only thrive for themselves and dont care for the less fortunate. These gernations gone from good to worse as you can see, the people dont care about others because from what I see they only care of the money. For me, I care for others since I see a lost life in a sea on a boat as for I call it the exiled area where my other significant side tries to take over with pure hatred comming to life. So when i see people who arnt themselves no more I see them lost at sea in a boat wondering and trying to find their way back and understanding things more to their prospective.

Posted by: flynntaggart

« on: February 08, 2010, 06:58:02 pm »

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I can't remember my parents. I still have videos of them, pictures, gifts... but I can't remember them anymore.

I refuse to give false dates for deaths, despite this only being a short story

My father died in the year 20XX. My mother passed shortly after. During that time, cell regeneration was still only available for the wealthy. Just like all things, it eventually became available to the "public." Technology advanced yet again and the outdated became cheap.

I'll be one thousand, three hundred and sixty two in a few days. The saying used to go, "You can't do anything about your twenty year old body, but you can have a three thousand year old mind." Ironically, I have a thousand year old body, and it looks like its twenty.

I miss my family.

We can't have families anymore. Those in the "lucky" generation that were able to catch the technological tidal wave had to watch as those that were too old or poor for the treatment die off. In order to prevent overpopulation, we've sterilized ourselves. Not by choice mind you. Someone up higher decided it was for the good of us all.

War still occurs, but now they can rebuild you out of the scraps of shredded DNA that remain after a nuclear blast, and they do. I've slit over a hundred throats, fired rounds through foreheads at point blank range, and not one confirmed kill.

I can't stand to be with a girl for over ten years. I can't have children. I don't have elders. My pets are clones of clones. They bark and cry but there is nothing there. Whoever said animals didn't have souls never saw a twentieth generation cloned bulldog.

If I died tomorrow, there would be no legacy, no one would come to my funeral.

January 09, 2015, 09:35:29 am Superchaos2585 says: SHOUTBOX IS BACK

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