betterbassist
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A storm was afoot. Erik could see the signs, even under the dim lighting of the bar: the brewing grey clouds, the angry crash of waves, and the darkening sky. Though, he could only imagine how it’d feel when they began to roar, and lightning struck down from the heavens.
But he was safe here. Safe. In this glass cage with his vulnerabilities laid bare, where the slightest twitch could make the storm boom and shatter his picturesque image of near tranquility, flooding his lungs with the black waters. Then, in an instant, he’d be gone. Sunken, chained to this hideous land; this hard rock of imperfection and a shadowy reminder of his past. As his eyes close, the only sign of his struggle would be those dying bubbles, teetering upon the surface of the water. Oh, yes. Against the bestial ocean, not even the most miraculous of man could survive. Not even him.
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> in which, a struggling Erik reflects on his life while drinking in a bar that resurfaces memories freshly woven.(this is a series of oneshots).