Ke Kuahiwi Moana e ne (The Sea Mountain That Moves) [FYM2021]
Absurd and disturbing as the possibilities could be, he had to find out. At 27, all his professional aspirations would be addressed, and well...
he’d be an Icon. Scant concern had brought him to the Hawaiian shores, but now, an inexplicable dread accosted him. Strange, the uncanny heat of the
topical clime, so oppressive. Uncanny balmy breeze careening through palms and island fauna. Evoking stark foreboding, instilling an unnatural, nay
unearthly sense of ill-will.
Yet the young Anthropologist pressed on. With great trepidation he advanced. The S.S. Robbins only just having deposited him firmly ashore after
17 inglorious days at sea. Sebastian carefully climbed toward his destination, hoping the map had the right isle. Steadily upward he leveraged himself
through the exotic thicket, grasping what trunk or root he could handle. “I’m going to be famous!” or “The Smithsonian will host my find for
months!”, were thoughts he assured himself with, compelling himself toward his location of import.
A few more steady steps set young Sebastian at the cusp of a volcanic vent, long disused.
This Was It! Down the ancient fumarole he hurled himself, lighting his torch, saying a prayer.
He felt ill for some reason.
Feeling instantly forlorn and confused as to his purpose, he continued into the bowels of Pele, seeking his treasure. “It has to be here!”,
Sebastian thought. Suffocating sulfur fumes amongst various other noxious vapors clouded his senses, choking his prerogative, his agency.
Cloyed and bewildered, he heard a vulgar percussion emanating, resonating from below.
Suddenly he felt trapped.
Further Sebastian pressed, covering his face, coughing, delirious. But wait! There...!
Atoning for his asphyxiation, he saw it.
It Was True! The Dark Legend of the Pacific:
The Sea Mountain that Moves! He thrust himself toward a worn esoteric but elegant lockbox.
As his eyes ran from the ghastly aromas, he smashed the fortification. Gasping, he struck blow after ragged blow, finally breaking the stout ancient
link, corroded by antiquity.
The corrupted lock snapped, and Sebastian snapped backward, unsure what to expect. The lid lifted back, a spectral teal light glowing, pulsating
from within. The room glowed an insidious chartreuse, a panpipe joined the infernal drumming that loudly thrummed the lava tube walls now. A violet
tentacle crept out of the small treasure chest, eerily searching....
Unfurling and quickly growing in size, it lashed about, ultimately finding Sebastian’s throat, seizing greedily upon it. She would be fed.
Sebastian frantically tried to writhe free, but more ghastly tentacles caught him and drug him towards the glowing opened chest. He gasped,
asphyxiating, as he was made to peer inside and was further pulled headlong into it. Nightmarish horrific swirling colors was all he saw as bones
snapped and vertebrae crunched, sending crimson blood and viscera spraying across his tomb.
The Dancer, The Brood Mother. She would rise again. She would find her ravenous Priest, The Dreamer, far in the Atlantic. Her Mate. Her fiendish
spawn would dominate this plane. She would dance the Dark Dance once more, singing the Old Ones from another realm, into the now. It was Foretold.
The grotesque tethers hungrily bore Sebastian’s ruined corpse into the runed eldritch box. Her spirit feasting...A lush titan, once dormant, now
voracious, supped on flesh for the first time in centuries. Her message in a bottle had been found. Her ploy had finally worked. Mankind’s greed
will always best his nature, this she knew long ago and it held true still.
She had been freed!
edit on 10-2-2021 by slatesteam because: (no reason given)
edit on Sun Feb 14 2021 by DontTreadOnMe because: (no reason given)