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Black In the Water

Where mystery meets romance... —Excerpt— We lay next to each other, both of us not saying a thing, but I feel comfortable. I don’t have the impulse to have to talk to him to avoid an awkward silence because it has never been awkward with Ash, I realise. “You asleep?” he whispers to me. “Nope,” I reply quietly. “It’s weird because my body is so tired but I can’t seem to shut my brain off.” “Me neither,” he says. I hear the crackling of the fresh sheet under us move and realise Ash has turned to face me. “Uhm, what?” I ask dubiously. “Nothing, I’m just trying to find a comfortable position.” “Okay,” I say as I stare at him in the dim glow of the candles. Ash stares back at me, his hand lifts to push away a strand of hair that has fallen into my eyes, then he closes his eyes. He is asleep in the next moment, with his hand frozen on my cheek. Usually, with anyone else, I would push his hand away because it feels wrong and uncomfortable. But his caress felt good against the slight burn on my skin. And as he rests his hand on my cheek, I can’t help but think about how no one has ever held me close to them and makes me feel this way. Even though Ash and I are far from holding each other close, just a touch of his hand comforts me in ways that others’ hugs have tried and failed. Without much thinking, I push Ash’s fallen hair out of his eyes and rest my hand against his cheek. In the next moment, as my eyes start to droop, I feel a pull of his cheek against my palm and realise he is smiling. —————————————————————————————————————————— When an apartment building is plagued by a strange substance in its water, its residents uncover a foreboding mystery that will perish them all. With a deadly fog that blocks their escape, they must now forget their differences and work together to overcome the horrifying events that ultimately threaten their survival.

krydwen · SF
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203 Chs

Aiden Jenkins. Rejection

In the end, it turns out we were right, it is midday. The sun just hasn't shone through the thick grey fog yet—or never will. At this point, who knows, really. When we come down to the lobby, the room is in a frenzy. Not the chaotic kind of frenzy it was in yesterday (God, has it only been yesterday?) but a more subdued kind of frenzy. Lines have formed in sections of the room that lead to the distribution of food and water, it seems like, and in other parts of the room, groups of people chatter humanly—prove that a good night's rest and food in your belly can do wonders to just about anyone, even the ones in our particular predicament. 

We zigzag through the forming crowds to find who I assume must be the shepherd in this flock of sheep: Grant. He stands idle, watching the crowd buzzing around him, with yesterday's crew standing behind him in a formation that should belong in a superhero movie (right when the superheroes are about to face their enemies).