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Drustvar | Collage

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Creatures Of The Below 2 Pretty

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A short story I made for THECRYPTIC_'s anthology on Wattpad. I wrote 8k words for it and had to condense it to 3k, so here I am, expanding it into its own little short novel. Check out the short version here: www.wattpad.com/655731362-on-a…

Preorder the novella here: www.smashwords.com/books/view/…

I made two versions of the cover, one with her face contorted and one without because I didn't know which I wanted to make. Below is a little sneak peek of the world inside this story. Enjoy :) 



PART 1 

The sea is like ink, rippling in the light of the crescent moon overhead. A figure emerges from the depths, slowly walking onto the shore, its gaze locked onto the forest ahead. Oil-black scales cover its warped humanoid body like a wetsuit. Five floating islands rest high over the sea.

As the water falls away, the scales peel from the humanoid's body and collect onto its back, creating something like scaled dragonfly wings. They drape against its backside, the clothing made of hide fraying into beaded strings at the hem. The figure's tan skin is swollen and purple, its limbs and features bulbous and horrifying. How could she, an ugly one, ever venture out into a world tailored for those who are beautiful?

The sand shifts beneath her bare feet, dangerous creatures lurking in the shadows becoming perturbed by her presence. There aren’t just animals in these trees on the island below, but vile people like herself who have let their hatred fuel the darkness within them. They’ve become deformed and crippled, letting the ugliness inside stain their outermost parts. The Creatures of the Below.

There's an airy snicker from the trees, spindly teeth coming forth as a creature removes itself from the shadows.

“It is you, fellow ugly,” it says in its razor-sharp voice. Its back is hunched over like a wilting flower, spinal cord nearly ripping through its paper-thin skin.

Its long, sharp nails brush the ground. It’s quite amazing that the material making it isn’t brittle; something about the atmosphere, something about their diet, makes them strong and sturdy, curving like talons. Their beady eyes are black from pupil dilation; the creatures dip below the surface in the daylight, fearing its warmth might comfort their hatred, changing them into something other than the victim. Ragged beaded cloths like the one the Night Guardian wears hang loosely around the figure—a male, by the style of them. “Have you come to... join us?”

As it snickers again, scales that had been wrapped around the bottoms of his feet peel away and slide up to his hands, covering his fingers and the naturally-grown claws for extra support. The scales are just like the Night Guardian’s, but tougher to get through, becoming more useful as a shield than a weapon due to training from a young age. These shifting scales are called arn, a weapon the people had crafted long ago. They are implanted into children at age five, the injection site called a "reserve", where excess scales gather. From then on, they are trained how to use arn for self-defense as armor—never as weapons. However, being ugly from birth, the Night Guardian had been shunned from lessons, her face making even the strongest stomachs turn. She had to watch from a distance.

"Joining forces those who are righteous for selfish reasons is never the answer," the Night Guardian responds, her voice strong and raspy. Her winged arn raise as if to fly away like a dragonfly, but instead, they sharpen, lengthen. Over the years, the Night Guardian noticed that her arn was different than others. Hers was more malleable, more flexible. When she was bullied, her arn wouldn't just protect her, but was also able to slice into other arn, leaving the other party in pain, and forcing her to become even more of an outcast. No one had arn that could cut through other arn.

Until she found the Night Guardians.

At age thirteen, she slipped from the edge of her floating island above, two girls pushing her around and not realizing how close to the edge they were. The two girls let out a cry for her as she slipped, but they were hesitant to help her.

One more ugly gone from this world is all it was, a blessing from God.
She landed with a smack in the moonlight, water crashing around her. Bubbles exploded from her mouth as she tried to gather her bearings. She remembers thinking, Is this how I die?

Her arn wrapped around her, but there wasn’t any way for breathable air to reach her lungs. Motes danced around her vision as she moved her limbs, strength slowly disappearing as she sunk deeper. Oh well, she thought as she closed her eyes, her arn dropping limply around her, forming the dragonfly wings she’d grown accustom to having. If only she could have used them to fly away…  

Death is something I deserve... This world would rather me leave it...

Warmth circled her wrist and she began to feel the water moving around her. Opening her eyes, she saw a glimpse of someone covered in arn like a wetsuit—someone that was saving her.

She broke the surface, gasping and choking up water as she was pressed against the chest of someone, cradled in her arms. She was so warm against the freezing wind.

“Don’t worry,” the woman in the arn-suit said, her face covered by a helmet. Clear hard material where her eyes were glinted in the full moon. “I’ll keep you safe.”

The woman brought her to shore, the full-body arn peeling from her skin and gathering on her back like a cape, moving with life. Her face was ugly, yes, but she looked prettier than any other ugly our protagonist had seen.

“My name is Misha,” she said, helping her stand. “What’s yours, kid?”

The girl shrugged, wrapping her arms around her to keep warm. “I was never deserving of one.”

Misha frowned in sadness as she knelt down before the little girl. The woman’s thin white hair was speckled with spots of gray, burn scars all up the left side of her body. Was ugliness purposefully inflicted upon her?

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Misha whispered as the trees hummed with life. “I saved someone from a fire and was burned on my left side, earning me the title of ugly. I had been trapped from the boards and beams falling. Going from being pretty to ugly is a startling contrast nowadays though, but I honestly think it’s better being an ugly, so cheer up,” she smiled. “No matter how ugly you are, there’s always someone who will love you.”

The little girl shook her head, her eyes darting to the trees. Beneath the five floating islands is a large mass of water. In the center of it is a grounded island, a place no one goes because of what roams between its trees: creatures. Monsters of what this version of humanity has left behind, cast out, and rejected because of the way they look.

She shuddered and buried her head in her knees, wrapping herself tighter in her arms.

“I don’t deserve love,” she whispered quietly, the sadness she’d felt so long ago from hearing or saying those words aloud finally losing their grip on her that day. “Who could love someone like me? I make stomach churn with a look and babies cry when I walk by. I don’t belong in this world.” A tiny crack of emotion broke through as she dug her forehead deeper into her knees. “I should have just died.”

Misha studied the little girl for a moment, watching as she sniffles and quiets a sob, her dragonfly arn rippling as sand loges between some of the scales. The woman couldn’t help the parallels to her own feelings when she first became ugly in a world of beautiful people. She believed things would have been better off if she’d have died… and then she found purpose for her life.

“If you want,” Misha began, touching the girl’s wrist to get her attention, “there is a secret workplace for ugly ones. It pays decently and all we have are night shifts, so you can stay out of the sunlight where people can see you. Your arn looks strong and flexible. We could use someone like you.”

The little girl grew quiet and hesitated before glancing up at Misha, doubt filling her irises.

“Really?” she asked, her voice cracking. “But I’m only—”

“You’re old enough,” Misha interrupted, a rustling in the trees catching her attention as her arn pulled into something that resembled a tail, the oil-black scales glistening in the moonlight. “And if you’d like, tonight could be your first day of training.”



The memory of Misha sends a pang through the Night Guardian’s heart and she rubs her thumb into the spot just above it. The two extra limbs her arn had created sink low, plunging out beside her hips like tusks. The four appendages of arn sharpen in the night sky as the creature slinks forward a few steps, leaving ten paces between them, grimacing. He clicks his nails together, readying himself.

A scream pierces the air.

Human.
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Esta imagen pertenece a una nueva serie que he creado, Los Siete Pecados Capitales.

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Nota: el hecho de que se pueda comprar es meramente un experimento, ya que simplemente uso este espacio como catálogo.


Note: the fact that the image can be purchased is merely an experiment, since I simply use this space as a catalog.

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