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!