Decades ago, in a secluded forest within Germany, experiments were underway to win World War 2. Bastion was one of the children stolen from his home and tested on. As a result his mind strengthened, finally resulting in Telekinetic abilities. What w...
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The boat was an old timer, a veteran of the brine. The planks retained the odour of mould and each clash of waves rocked it so far to the side that it almost tumbled over. All Bastion could do was count every death-defying moment. He had reached forty before Diana suggested that they go below deck, obviously sensing his unease at the blood coated water that flooded the boat every so often.
The stairs ahead were twisted in a perfect spiral, like a child's slinky toy pulled from each end. Each stair was likely a deep walnut, but with the thick layer of undisturbed dust it was hard to tell. Strangely enough, neither Bastion nor Diana's footsteps made any difference to the sheen of dirt. It still remained as if untouched for centuries.
It was a desperate and futile hope that this would be the most unusual thing on the boat. One that Bastion was quickly deprived of when Diana lead him into a room in the lower level of the vessel. Instantly, a foul odour burnt the insides of his nostrils. It was like a soaking wet corpse that had been left to cook in the sun, but never drying up.
Bastion's stomach contracted so violently that he had no time to silence the loud, choking gag that clawed from his throat. He somehow managed to force down the bile rising from his gut, but not without a few more sickening sounds. Even Diana seemed to scrunched her nose up at the stench.
"We're staying down here?" Bastion strained to speak through the scratching in his throat.
"It would be far worse up on the deck. Charon is known for throwing people overboard." Diana replied, lightly pushing Bastion's lower back and sending him stumbling into the room. "I thought you would be accustomed to the smell of rotting corpses anyway..."
"What's that suppose to mean?" Bastion hissed once he'd steadied his footing.
Diana, without an ounce of reluctance, stepped in behind him and pulled the door shut. "Only that you fought for the Nazi regime, did you not? I'd suspect that you were numb to the sight of horrific death."
Bastion would have been irritated at her venom soaked words under normal circumstances, but he was too focused on the room they had just stumbled into. From outside, it had looked like an empty storage area. Nothing too eerie, especially considering the downright haunting images he'd witnessed so far. Now, though, it was covered from their view. Like it's normal interior had never been anything but a mirage.
There was a sheet in front of them. It glistened wetly despite the lack of light, and it's fleshy pink colour gave the impression of a thick layer of living tissue. Bastion ran a cautious hand over it, noticing that it had the texture of thousands of tiny cobwebs all scrunched together. It was unpleasant, to say the very least, but it was the only way to access the rest of the room.
