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Blackclay

BlackClay Back in the earlier decades, on the wooden decks of the longstanding eminent ship, the Brooke, lived a tall hardworking sailor, Dylan Calder Coburn. Dylan was a fair young man. His golden threads of hair were relentlessly wet and ornamented by white grains of salt, henceforth making him smell of the ocean. On his tall neck hung a shiny precious pearl necklace which is of heritage in the all sailing Coburn family. This necklace is made of golden pearls extracted from the ocean by the grandfather of Dylan. These pearls being renowned due to the sailors’, and only sailors’, ability to see them as golden; they are seen regular to others. In color coordination with his sun sown hair, his skin was wrapped around his ocean loving heart. Dylan sailed his heart out. He was prominent as a good and big-hearted man in BlackClay. The smartest and wittiest, as well. A fast thinking kind man he was. BlackClay, a coastal village, was not just any coast. It was the coast where the most bittersweet creature arose, the Pearlor. \Myth says the Pearlor was a beast summoned by the rare golden pearls, which Dylan and most sailors wear, only and only at the occurrence of the lunar eclipse, the blood moon. With the first crash of wave at exactly midnight, the ocean would spit out a rich number of golden pearls onto BlackClay’s coast. With a blink, emerging from these pearls, the Pearlors roam the streets of BlackClay. They lure sailors leading them to the golden mattress of sand on the beach upon the dark night’s mirror, the ocean. Under the bloody illumination above that cursed land, the Pearlors drown the sailors to their doom devouring their hearts. All of which is done in an ominous peaceful silence. The Pearlors were known to be so beautiful that it was not comprehendible to the human brain. They had big stunning gleaming eyes that held a deceitful sparkle of innocence within. Their figures stood tall and slender as they strayed in the beautiful village of BlackClay singing bridges. Bridges sung so charmingly that it was said to be mystic. So aided them were their deadly quest to work their perilous magic. Only sailors were to hear their singing. And only sailors were to sight such gorgeous yet terminal creatures. Nobody believed in the existence of the Pearlors but their witnesses, and no human was ever able to witness them but a sailor by heart. People claiming to have seen attacks by the Pearlors were laughed at and humiliated to their core flesh. Thus, the mention of the Pearlors was always a grieving whisper. “Insanely beautiful.” Dylan told his crew which were a day far from BlackClay, taking a sip of his liquor. “A form of punishment-” Another sip. “That is why escaping the Pearlors seems so easy, you just move your gaze away from them!” He slurred his words shaking his head. “You’re foolish, Dylan. These things might not even be real.” Across the room one of the sailors replied. “Am I really? Tell me, what other way could a sailor be punished? By being drowned in what he loves? Or by being called a lunatic by what he escapes?” The process was done only in grudge to the sailors’ wicked hearts. The ocean never permitted these sinful men to sail upon its soft skin, to litter its impeccable water with their evils, to paddle their dirty wood on its rippled blue surface. The ocean did not belong to the sailors, the sailors belonged to the ocean. The blue infinitive page of water was retaliating. If sailors could not maintain a good heart, they shall have none. Let the civilians of the never ending enigmatic ocean shall exhibit their fury upon the BlackClay sailors! It was the night of the lunar eclipse. Dylan and his crew were at the harbor going over their strategy to attack the Pearlors, prepare their weapons. Pearlors cried diamonds so valuable that if one piece of it was introduced to the market, it would make the present diamonds’ worth as that of dirt. Tonight, the sailors were to catch at least one Pearlor, not just worthless pearls, but the beauty that comes after they roll outside the water and before they roll back into it. It was ten minutes before midnight, the sailors gathered at the harbor waiting for the menacing occurrence. The silence was growing louder by the second, adding to the fright of the sailors. The night stretched out in a starless dark sky, only lit by the red moon. And then it happened, the shiny luminous pearls moved along the shore outside the sea like an avalanche of light illuminating the black night. And just with the flicker of the trembling sailors’ lashes, there were no golden pearls. Abruptly, the voice of the beauties rung like a church’s bell at dawn, in its beautiful symphony. Drenched in blood Before the bay Victimized hearts Drowned away By the oceans They are the prey Bear the price Sailors of BlackClay. Shivering, never in his thirteen years of sailing the world had Dylan seen such majestic beauty. “Fire!” was all Dylan’s mind was able to comprehend in this madness. And with a glance and a heartbeat, BlackClay was being sprinkled with fire all of over its aberrant skin. As if it were being purified from all sins committed on its land. As if the very land was taking a shower, a fiery, deadly shower. He didn’t know whether what he was seeing was hell or heaven. He couldn’t move an inch, or even flinch. All he did was stare in astonishment, waiting for his body to listen to his screaming conscious telling him to move. He was too apprehensive to even blink in fear of missing something of this pure, lethal, and beautiful insanity. Everything turned quite for a moment, and all he heard was the beautiful soprano singing. He was almost numb, until something cold suddenly grabbed him. Something really strong. Something that caused him to fall harshly to the ground. His heart raced and he felt the heat of his blood run through every inch of his body. As if through memory, all sounds from the past few seconds knocked echoingly into his head and he heard the following words which made his mouth drier and his body tremble even harder: “Dylan, behind you! She’s powerless!” Turning, he saw the tall leg of a Pearlor stuck between ruins of the tree behind him which burnt down and fell. He thought; the Pearlor must have tried to attack him from his back, shockingly stopped by the tree which rescued him. Or perhaps, didn’t. Impulsively, with a jolt of adrenaline, he took out his sword and cut down her leg, watching the circle of blood beneath his feet get bigger and bigger and bigger. He gasped, in disbelief of his own actions, and rushed himself to carry her helpless body beckoning the sailors to retreat. Dylan had just captured a Pearlor. The thing screamed in agony revealing fangs. His sleeves were getting too wet. With tears or blood, Dylan did not know. He looked down at her eyes which cried in anguish in contrast to her now muffled shrieks. Regardless of the dark night, they glowed in a brilliant blue. It reminded him of the ocean. She opened her mouth, trying to muster some energy to speak. He waited, was patient. Never in his life had he felt so curious to listen to someone or, something, speak. Her cherry red lips opened and closed, trembled. She coughed and her eyes started closing. Dylan felt as if he was stung by a thousand knife. He had been stabbed before, fought the deadliest monsters of the world, bore with dehydration, but never in his life had he been put in such agony. He was witnessing a beautiful thing perish in his arms. And he was the killer. He heard his crew shouting for him to come. “Dylan, you sensitive faggot, quit cryin’ and come ‘ere or you ain’t ever seein’ the ship again!” Approaching the water, he was not able to put the thing he was carrying in further pain, or himself either. He was an honorable sailor, and truly loved the ocean. With all its beauties and beasts. Before he knew it, the life draining from the body of his victim, he caught himself running. Ignoring the curses and shouts and ‘Dylan!’s, he took out his sword first and dumped it in the water. It dripped making a sound of music to his ears. Drenched in blood and ache, he was apologizing to the ocean. He felt a strong grip around his neck and a resilient pressure pushing him downwards. Drenched in blood Before the bay Victimized hearts Drowned away By the oceans They are the prey Bear the price Sailors of BlackClay.   Yet again, suddenly aware of his surroundings, he started hearing, and what he grasped from the tumultuous screaming and chaos was: “Dylan watch out!” he turned his head back to see something coming up behind him. Something with so much brightness, something very deadly. He heard so many loud screams and falling objects. The heat approached him from all sides, closing him in. But the body was already in the water. The pearls, golden and righteously, sunk in the depths of the ocean. But which pearls?

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