“...It was a black spot, of such immeasurable darkness and deep rotted shadows, that it seemed to engulf light and swallow it down into an unyielding void. It was an unnatural monstrosity; painted on the horizon, not sculpted by the hand of God. Inked into place by the Devil’s own water colors. It oozed oily essence and contaminated, with disconcerting ease, the very turbulent waters on which it floated.
Its damnable existence was undeniable. It had a depraved unnaturally and, over all, an angry and baneful disposition. It was corruption above everything else. It cultivated its wrongness out of a fertile sea, that brimmed with a continuously poisonous and foul brutality; a sea that disdained your very presence and fought, with all its ugly machinations, to bleed you dry.
It wasn’t a homeward land; the closer you neared and the greater its true face became. It was quite apparent that one would be generous in calling it a: ‘grey sharp barren rock of filth and excrement’. It was, if anything, a dark stygian formation that blighted the Indian Ocean. A pox on every horizon. A sting to the lucidity of a sane man. It was a volcanic, desolate, island; a still born monster rejected and vomited from out of the putrid guts of Hades; spewed onto an unsuspecting world. It danced in the waves nestled among whitecaps of billowing froth, that lapped at is sickened and disease based body.
As our boat neared, you could almost picture the image of a great sepulchral beast, fetid and rotting, belly up in the briny soup. Its cadaverous ribs breaking the surface and jotting, like rusty daggers, into the very shores of Heaven. Each loathsome peak was stained with a vile dark color, the earthly blush of dried clay; mirrored blood. Only carrion birds fle...
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...her grey and blue slanted eyes, slips off her kimono and stands completely naked on top of one of the wooden rails; studying her surrounding. A silent predator looking at her new home.
Her form has been sculpted by the Gods themselves. Venus, in all her majesty, would no doubt feel jealous and ashamed by such celestial beauty; the only blemish visible on her skin was a red slash across her back; a whip’s kiss, that had broken an intricate, colorful and immense, tattoo of mysterious scribbles, in two even segments.
Her skin was as pale as the moon and, like that very celestial body, completely alien to me. Lady Jaku was danger incarnated. She could mesmerize you, with her seductress sway, only to approach closer and gouge out your eyes. On the barge many men had fallen victim to her false demeanor; she was a wolf in sheep’s clothing; a demon passing off as an angel.