Studio
shinmera
2016.12.31
The town lay still in the afternoon sun. A young boy’s footsteps echoed between the walls of the buildings as he ran through the twisted roads and alleyways. Everyone had gone. Not a soul could be found. The boy ran and shouted, shouted names of his family members, his friends, the townsfolk he knew. But not a one answered. Out of breath, heart beating, eyes twitching from the stress, the boy finally arrived at the bridge that lead into the town. And there he saw a sight most horrific. A sight that would haunt him for all of his time to come. The river was black as tar. Squirming within the slimy substance were a thousand corpses. The blood drained from the bodies, mere skins and bones, twiching and squirming within the black substance. The boy, believing he had been trapped within a nightmare most fierce, screamed, and ran away. Ran as far as his legs could take him. On the road, he collapsed. When he came to, he had not a memory of the events before, but every night he would have the same dream. The dream of the tar river. A stream recording of this drawing is available.