A gust of wind blew up the road, and lucy floated down beside Sprite. “Missing your bro?” she asked.
“Yeah,” sighed Sprite. “I think he’s taking the road to the afterlife. I’m trying to catch up to him, but I think he has a good headstart on me.”
“Well, I’ve just dropped out of the sky, and you’re the only figure I could see for miles,” she remarked. “Although I’m sure I saw the footprints and the invisible woman, man, and their children.”
“Hang on,” said Sprite, “They had kids? What are they like?”
“Well,” chuckled Lucy. “They’re nothing to look at.”
Sprite looked up the road and knew where Spectre had gone and that he may have a significant headstart. He put his headphones on, cracked open Spotify and started Sinéad O’Connor greatest hits. For a moment, he pondered how long it had been since he last heard this playlist.
Sprite awoke in unfamiliar surroundings. He was sitting on a road, and in every direction, all he could see was sand. The trees, the wall and Spectre, who were all here when he went to sleep, were missing.
“Cripes alive,” said Sprite. “This place is emptier than a Tory promise.”
Today’s the last day my Skillshare course, Start publishing on Medium.com, is free. From tomorrow, it’ll be available only to premium members. If you enroll today though, it’s free for life. Linky: https://skl.sh/2N9RejV
(The story thus far. This series runs until October, so check back, Monday to Friday for the rest of the tales. In October, we’ll have a new series to coincide with Inktober.)
The Fears face unfamiliar horrors with a familiar sense of humour, as we find them washing ashore on a stretch of islands in the lands in-between.
Black Sands is our current series, with new tales published five days a week. Monday to Friday. Check back daily for updates.
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To be continued…
Check back every day, Monday to Friday in July, for further tales from the black sands.
Without Patreon, cups of ko-fi, Threadless sales and all the other links below, I wouldn’t be able to make you all groan every day and create series like this. So thank you, everyone, for all the support. May the groans and grimaces I cause give your face laughter lines and your scalp grey hairs. Thank you.
“The sharks won’t let me off this island,” growled Meria. “Every time I try to leave they swarm around me. Tear me apart. Then I wake up in my bed, unharmed.”
“I’d say there’s something fishy about your story,” pondered Lucy. “But that’d be jumping the shark.”