"Shadow"

Once, in a small, forgotten town nestled between dense, looming woods, lived a young girl named Emily. She was an introverted soul, finding solace in the eerie quietude that surrounded her quaint home. Emily's only companion in this desolate place was a loyal, coal-black dog named Shadow.

The town was draped in legends and whispered tales of things that crept in the shadows. The locals spoke of a haunted forest that bordered the outskirts, warning the townsfolk to stay away once the sun dipped below the horizon. Emily, however, was drawn to the mysteries that lurked beneath the ancient canopy.

One gloomy evening, as the sun painted the sky with hues of orange and purple, Emily couldn't resist the allure of the forbidden woods. With Shadow by her side, she ventured into the labyrinth of twisted trees and tangled vines. The air grew heavy with an unnatural stillness as they delved deeper into the darkness.

The trees seemed to close in on them, their gnarled branches reaching out like skeletal fingers. Emily felt a shiver crawl up her spine, but the thrill of the unknown propelled her forward. Shadow, sensing his owner's unease, pressed against her leg, his fur standing on end.

As they ventured further, the forest seemed to come alive with eerie whispers that echoed through the rustling leaves. Emily's heart raced, but she pressed on, drawn to an otherworldly glow in the distance. The dim light revealed an ancient, dilapidated mansion that seemed to materialize from the shadows.

Despite the foreboding atmosphere, Emily couldn't resist exploring the mysterious structure. Shadow hesitated, his growls barely audible over the unsettling symphony of creaking doors and rattling windows. The air inside was thick with the scent of decay, and dust danced in the moonlit beams that filtered through cracked windows.

As Emily wandered through the haunted halls, she stumbled upon a room adorned with faded tapestries depicting scenes of a bygone era. In the centre of the room, a dusty mirror caught her attention. The reflection that stared back at her was distorted, as if the very fabric of reality had unraveled.

A sudden cold breeze swept through the room, extinguishing the flickering candles that lined the walls. Emily's breath caught in her throat as she heard a ghostly whisper, a name carried on the wind – her name. Shadow's low growls intensified, his fur bristling as a shadowy figure emerged from the depths of the room.

The figure was a ghastly silhouette, its features obscured by a tattered cloak. Emily, paralyzed with fear, could only watch as the apparition extended a bony hand towards her. The room seemed to pulse with an otherworldly energy as the figure spoke, revealing a tale of a tragic past, a curse that bound it to the mansion.

With a sudden burst of ethereal energy, the figure vanished, leaving Emily and Shadow alone in the chilling silence. As reality settled, Emily felt a weight lift from her chest, and the mansion crumbled away like a mirage. The forest, once ominous, now seemed serene under the moonlit sky.

With Shadow by her side, Emily retraced her steps, leaving the haunted memories behind. The woods, though still shrouded in mystery, no longer whispered tales of sorrow. As they emerged into the fading moonlight, Emily couldn't shake the feeling that the shadows clung a little tighter, and the woods held secrets that were better left undisturbed.

Source: Some or all of the content was generated using an AI language model

Lament to the end of summer

As the sun dipped low on the horizon, casting its golden hues across the landscape, a whispering breeze carried the lament to the end of summer. The days of warmth and laughter seemed to linger, but the subtle changes in the air hinted at the inevitable farewell to the season of abundance.

In the garden, flowers bowed their heads, petals weary from the dance with the sun. The once vibrant hues of red, orange, and yellow began to fade into a melancholy palette. The leaves, once a lush green, now wore the first strokes of autumn, painted with strokes of amber and russet. A sense of wistfulness hung in the air, a prelude to the impending departure of the sun-kissed days.

Children's laughter echoed in the distance as they frolicked in the fading warmth, their carefree spirits unaware of the subtle shift in the atmosphere. Summer's embrace lingered in the lingering daylight, but the shadows grew longer, signaling the approach of the inevitable autumnal chill. The sunflowers, once standing tall and proud, now drooped under the weight of time, bowing in a silent farewell to the season that nurtured their growth.

The songbirds, too, felt the subtle change, their melodies taking on a softer, more reflective tone. The familiar chirping of crickets in the twilight held a touch of sadness, as if they, too, mourned the passing of the long, sunlit evenings. The symphony of summer nights began its gradual descent into a quieter, more contemplative nocturne.

Along the shoreline, the waves whispered tales of the summer's adventures. The sand, warmed by the touch of countless bare feet, bore witness to the laughter and joy that graced its shores. Seashells, once collected with enthusiasm, now lay scattered like fragments of memories, each one telling a story of a moment frozen in time.

The scent of barbecues and sunscreen hung in the air, mingling with the crisp aroma of the first fallen leaves. The taste of seasonal fruits, once juicy and sweet, now carried a subtle tang of nostalgia. Ice cream cones melted a bit faster, as if even the frozen treats could not escape the grasp of summer's fading warmth.

In the meadows, butterflies danced a delicate ballet, their wings fluttering in graceful rhythms. Bees hummed their busy tunes, collecting the last droplets of nectar before the flowers closed their petals for the season. The grass, once a vibrant carpet beneath the azure sky, now bore the marks of playful picnics and lazy afternoons spent basking in the sun.

As the calendar pages turned, the lament to the end of summer grew louder. Nature, in its wisdom, prepared for the inevitable cycle of change. The world donned a sepia-toned cloak, a farewell gesture to the season that painted its canvas with warmth and vibrancy.

Yet, in the midst of this bittersweet farewell, there lingered a promise. The end of summer was not an end but a transition, a prelude to the spectacular tapestry of autumn. The trees, shedding their leaves, prepared for a grand encore in hues of red, gold, and amber. The air, though crisper, held the promise of cozy evenings wrapped in blankets and the aroma of cinnamon and spice.

And so, with a heart heavy with nostalgia and anticipation, the world bid adieu to the sunlit days of summer, embracing the inevitable passage of time and the cyclical beauty of nature's eternal dance.

Source: Some or all of the content was generated using an AI language model

Isle of Teeth - Chapter 2 – The First Roar

The roar echoed through the trees long after it had ceased, a primal thunder that vibrated in the bones. For a moment, the group sat frozen around the fire, their laughter strangled mid-breath. The jungle fell silent, save for the crackle of torches and the faint lap of waves.

Victor Kade smiled, raising his glass of rum as though nothing unusual had happened. “Ah,” he said softly, almost reverently. “So they’ve come to greet you.”

“They?” Claire’s voice wavered despite her attempt at nonchalance. She raised her camera, trying to peer into the dark. “What do you mean, they?”

Victor’s grin widened. “You’ll see. Tomorrow, all will be revealed. Tonight, relax.”

But no one relaxed. Even Marcus, who had faced anti-aircraft fire in war, found his bravado slipping. “That wasn’t a jaguar, was it?” he asked.

Dr. Ortega shook his head vigorously. “No mammal makes that sound. That was… deeper. Resonant. Like… like—”

“Don’t say it,” Eliza snapped. She didn’t want to hear it spoken aloud, not yet.

The tension lingered through the night. Sleep came only in fragments, punctuated by distant rustles and the occasional snap of a branch heavy with something large. Daniel took the first watch, eyes scanning the tree line with soldierly patience.

At dawn, Victor led them inland. The jungle was alive with colour and noise—parrots flashing scarlet, insects humming, orchids blooming from tree trunks. Ortega gushed over every plant, stuffing samples into his satchel. But Eliza’s focus stayed on the ground. She saw impressions in the soil—three-toed tracks, massive in size, pressed fresh into the earth.

She slowed, her fingers brushing the edges of one print. “Victor,” she called. “What left this?”

Victor only winked. “The past,” he said cryptically, and continued walking.

The path ended at a ridge overlooking a vast clearing. Mist curled above a river valley where towering ferns swayed like green cathedrals. And there, grazing calmly on the banks, were creatures Eliza knew only from museum halls.

Sauropods.

Their necks stretched high into the canopy, pulling leaves from trees with slow, sweeping motions. Their tails dragged thick furrows in the soil. The ground seemed to vibrate with their every step.

Eliza’s breath caught. Her knees nearly gave out. She was staring at living fossils—beings that had ruled Earth long before humans even dreamed of fire.

Claire’s camera whirred as she filmed feverishly, whispering, “My God… my God…”

“Welcome,” Victor announced proudly, spreading his arms wide, “to a world lost to time. To my private Eden.”

For a long, reverent moment, no one spoke. Even Daniel, the soldier, was transfixed by the spectacle.

Then, from the far side of the valley, the foliage erupted. A blur of motion, low and fast, burst from the undergrowth.

The sauropods trumpeted in alarm, their massive bodies swaying as panic rippled through the herd.

And out of the trees came hunters—sleek, scaled, and lethal.

Eliza whispered the word she had tried not to say the night before.

“Raptors.”

Source: Some or all of the content was generated using an AI language model