The Rig

The darkness weighs down, heavy-handed – he is coming.

In the shadows, in the night.

Teeth. So many teeth.

The night is fury.

A djinn, raised from the depths of the Earth.

He leaves the corpses.

Emblazoned with cursed runes, their eye sockets raw and empty.

Silent screams pour skyward.

The muttering of the sea surrounds this crippled island. The radios are out. The drill is broken, shattered. All the lifeboats have shrugged off, wandered from their moorings.

The lights burn, to keep away the blackness.

The lights burn, a warning. Or a beacon.

The lights burn, mirrored on the horizon.

He has won. He has summoned his kin.

They rise, to stalk the Earth.

Written for this week’s Friday Fictioneers’ photo prompt. 

Comments and criticisms always welcome! 

Tagged , , , , , , , , , , ,

19 thoughts on “The Rig

  1. symplysilent says:

    Chris, your writing is so very powerful. Silent

  2. Dear Chris,

    Wow, that was certainly uplifting. Effective imagery. You’ve crafted a dark world that made me shudder.



  3. MissTiffany says:

    Oh, what a dark, grim world you’ve created. I just love the first four lines – I had to read them out loud for full effect.

  4. What darkness.. really a great apocalypse you paint.

  5. claudia says:

    reminded me a bit of war of the worlds… cool…a dark atmosphere indeed..and well woven sir…

  6. Anonymous says:

    I~ like “a light or a beacon” very clever

  7. EagleAye says:

    Woo this has a sinister aspect. I’m reminded of H.P. Lovecraft. I like your interpretation of the photo as an oil rig, isolated, alone, ripe for the taking. This gave me goosebumps. Bravo!

  8. dmmacilroy says:

    It’s the end of the world as we know it…

    Well done.



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