Gods of the Sea

The winds, they moan. They moan and moan and moan, crying helplessly above the waves. The dark waters twist and writhe, fighting fruitlessly against the Things the creatures above have left behind. The Things, they hurt. They scrape with every shuddering rise and squeeze with every trembling fall. The ocean gazes sadly upon her people through the ugly labyrinth that has tainted her domain. The Things have enslaved them all. They fight and fight and fight, but the Things are immovable. Immutable. Immortal.

Yes, immortal.

They have become gods here. Gods that poke and stab and choke and grab.

Gods that shamelessly kill.

Flimsy whites and foreign shines stalk the currents of the fallen kingdom. Their brethren follow them in their march, leaving behind wave after wave of floating bodies.

These gods care for none.

The ocean chokes out a call, a cry for help. Surely those of the land would hear?

But her cries are acknowledged by only the moaning wind, for it was the humans who had sent the gods.