Beach Artby
wildirisComment by K3Master: It started slowly.
At first, it was as if it were not happening at all. So subtle and slowly did they form. Little marks in the sand, etching themselves out over the course of days. So minutely that it was beyond observation, but etched they were. If the waves obscured them, they appeared again without pause. If a foot scattered them, they regrew, but quicker now.
Then, as if they had reached a sort of breaking point, the etching began to accelerate. They came faster now, sketching across the beachfront as an artist worked his easel, appearing across the sand in patterns like the vegetation of the sea. They etched, and advanced, until one of the main branches suddenly parted a parcel of sand, revealing there an object, white and glistening, some sort of stone.
Then, without a sound, the etchings departed. The sand filled in and the waves splashed in and wiped them out.
The stone remained. Moments later, with a crack that echoed for miles around, a sound that should not have been possible from this tiny thing, a fissure appeared in the smooth casing. A fissure that bled an unholy light.
It was a gift from the sea, and it had opened, and what lay inside was the ruin of us all.
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