It’s hard to convince yourself that everything is going to be ok in the face of someone like Sloan.
Theo had tried to put up the arrogant front of a deeply unimpressed teenager, however his failure was evident in her shades, where he could see the reflection of his own uncertainty in his eyes. They watched the face of the predators before him with a primal calculation gear towards survival. Her smile was the foremost object of disturbance. It was distinctly wrong. A little too wide and crowded with jaggard hyena-like teeth. It could, arguably, hold a candle to the definition of a maw. The fact that her skin was scored with a hash of pale scars didn’t help the impression either, it told the story of someone not easily dissuaded from any given intention. All this set in the backdrop of a mane of black hair with webs of silver that Theo himself still had decades to possess. She raised one eyebrow behind her shades. Theo noted it too, and smoked his joint with a sinking feeling. Even in the bright, safe light of the beach they stood on, Theo estimated that he was the nameless victim in the prologue of a horror.
If only he was so lucky. This is not in fact the prologue, this is chapter one and he is the P.O.V.
On a wet road in a dim foggy forest, a werewolf so dark it could be described as a silhouette with white eyes, looms over a young man laying on the tarmac in a frozen state of fight or flight.
The young man is in a dark pink hoodie which contrasts with the otherwise cool, dark pallet of the scene.
In the darkest hours of the night and under the pouring rain a young man is being kidnapped. He’s over the shoulder of an indifferent woman and being carried up the gangplank onto a cruise ship that sits dark in the greenish blue night with orange lights glowing out of cabin windows. He is struggling and desperately reaching for the railing in a futile attempt to free himself. The woman doesn’t heed him. With a rucksack over one shoulder and him over the other, she strides into the orange light of the waiting ship.
A painting with a nostalgic feeling of two young men, in the rain at dusk, walking down a street with their backs to the viewer.
Above them the clouds are purple and fringed with the orange of a setting sun. Power lines cross above the street between the dark suburban house and the road is so slick with rain that it ripples and reflects the street lights and the young men.
The shorter young man, Theo, is offering the other, Miles, some chips from a packet. They are both soaking wet and don’t seem to care.
It’s my Birthday Today✨
& I’ll admit it hasn’t kicked off so well.
So if u’d like to wish me & turn it around, I’d love a B-day repost🌱
Or, if u wanna b unbelievably amazing, joining my patreon as a follower or by pledging would make u such a light in my life.
www.patreon.com/c/crossroadart
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