Dark Water

In a weather‑worn harbour where the tide pulls at forgotten timber, a massive, decaying ship sits like a rusted monument to lost voyages. The town that clings to its shoreline is as thin‑skinned as the fog that rolls in each night, its streets echoing with the muted cries of wind through broken windows. The vessel itself, half‑submerged and choked by seaweed, exudes a palpable chill that seems to seep into the very stone of the buildings surrounding it, turning every creak and groan into a whispered promise of something unseen.

Three strangers drift into this place, each drawn by a quiet desperation that the world outside can no longer contain. Mara, a former marine biologist haunted by a research failure, arrives hoping the isolation will quiet the relentless tide of regret. Elias, a weary journalist fleeing the fallout of a scandal, seeks anonymity among the rusted decks, believing the ship’s forgotten corridors might finally conceal his story. Jun, a young artist whose past is a collage of broken relationships, hopes the derelict structure will offer a blank canvas where the weight of memory can dissolve.

The atmosphere hangs heavy with a blend of melancholy and unease, the kind that makes shadows feel like living things. As the trio settles into the ship’s cavernous chambers, the creaking hull and the relentless drip of seawater become a metronome to their growing sense of isolation. Subtle disturbances—flickering lanterns, distant sighs carried on the wind—hint at a reality that bends the edges of perception. Together, they must navigate the thin line between refuge and entrapment, confronting a darkness that seems to rise from the very timber they lean against, before it overwhelms the fragile light they each carry.

Last Updated: August 10, 2025 at 10:25