The Deep

A truly miniscule piece about the deep dark sea… Increasingly dissatisfied thus taking a break from other things.

The stygian depths do not tremble, do not quake and do not roil as the sea above. The slow shifting silence whirls to its own rhythm. Melancholic growth and fungoid shapes bloom in luminescent groves. Wide eyes stare, with alien intellect at those that swim in the open. Those that play in the deep.

Gnarled rock and fiery vent form quaint causeways… Pillars of heat and life and rushing gushing power rise as columns from the abyss. Like fingers, torches, braziers glowing with tenebrous fire in the gloom. Blind, faceless things swim in hypnotic coils around the heat. Their soft pale bodies undulating in twisted dances. Like macabre wraiths they glide silently in the nighted deep.