Lari's Bookshelf

Here is a recent steampunk scene I wrote for a writing challenge: The ocean swelled and coughed up a small figure onto a rocky beach. At first, he just laid there, seemingly as dead as the beached man o’ wars nearby. A few hours later, however, a quiet low cough, and a twitch of the limbs, startled a tropical finch, which had briefly landed on his head to peck on a few strands of his golden, sun-bleached hair. The boy’s freckled visage, covered in sand, squinted at the sun as he turned over. Eyes burned and watered at the brightness, reflecting a sea-like combination of blue and green. Carefully, he stood up, and became aware of a weight around his neck. Placing a hand inside his torn shirt, and feeling the cool, hard object suspended against his salt stretched skin, he remembered the submarine. The captain was humoring him by showing him the different functions of the levers on the control panel. Then there were shouts, and chaos consumed them all. Shaking his head, it was all...

Bright orange vermilion filled the watery void. It curled around itself like a grotesque eyeless snake, shedding its black skin to reveal new iridescent flesh.  Time passes, and the fire still roars from the void. Except now the molten blood of the earth has cooled and coagulated like a giant scab on the ocean's floor, forming a magnificent black mountain.  At its peak, fire, light, and bubbles still perform their eternal dance. Fissures and vents, stretch marks on the outer shell of the continually inflating mountain, pop in and out of existence.  A kaleidoscope of iridescent pits and lines, manifesting through eons.  ...to be continued...