SHORT STORIES
The Infinite Shore
The Infinite Shore.
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There is no beginning; there is no end.
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No matter where one steps upon the sand, the shore continues, boundless and forever.
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To the north lives the roiling sea; violent and lustful.
To the south lives the dark forest; treacherous and foreboding.
Two ineffable unknowns cradle betwixt its bosoms the Infinite Shore.
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The villages that fish in the sea, war with the villages that hunt in the forests.
The villages that hunt, war with the villages that grow and harvest on the land.
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All taking place within the central stage of the Infinite Shore.
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Ages come and ages pass.
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No matter where one steps upon the sands, the shore continues on, boundless and forever.
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On that umber shore, where the waves harass, lumbering creatures dwell.
Giant, skeletal, walking, mechanical beasts with high, ivory fins billowing.
Surely, they were made, but by whom remains as unknown as the grains of sand that lie within the Infinite Shore.
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Eons they’ve lived, and for eons they’ve walked.
The Beasts of the Strand. Alien, yet terrestrial. No two are alike.
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Some walk tall and sway as ponderous towers.
Others crawl on stomachs, etching serpentine trails upon the ground.
Yet others, a miasma to which no other creature can compare.
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They walk alone, but when they come,
The villages cease their wars, and pay tribute to the Beasts of the Strand.
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Offerings are prepared; fish, crops, and meat,
Pleading for peace among the villages.
But the beasts pay no heed, and continue upon the Infinite Shore.
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In time, villages grow impatient with the beasts,
Their lack of devotion to man and woman breeds venom and wrath.
The war between the villages ends,
The war against the Beasts of the Strand begins.
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The fishermen travel the sea to find them.
The hunters lay traps and bring the striding behemoths down.
The farmers harvest their bones to build their fences.
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The villages work together, care for each other,
And in time, became one.
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The Village is happy, and the Beasts of the Strand are no more.
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Yet, when the fish stopped biting,
When traps lay empty and spears unbloodied,
And fields fell to blight and vermin,
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The Village understood then, it was the Beasts that brought the fish.
It was the Beasts that made animals plentiful.
It was the Beasts that brought the rains.
It was the Beasts that brought life to the Infinite Shore.
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And now, their absence brought death.
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The Beasts of the strand were rebuilt.
Their bones were strung back together with the finest fishing line.
Their joints were oiled with the fat and grease from their kills.
Their sails were woven from their hemp, cotton, and flax.
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In time, the Beasts of the Strand walked once again upon the infinite shore.
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The fish return.
The animals return.
The vermin vanish and the blight disappears.
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Yet, there are those who grow bitter they used their fishing line.
There are those who grow bitter they used their good fats.
There are those who grow bitter they used their finest woven cloth.
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The village fights amongst itself and, in its wrath, tears itself apart.
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The villagers that grow and harvest on the land, go to war with the villagers that hunt in forests.
The villagers that hunt in the forests, go to war with the villagers that fish in the sea.
​
All taking place within the central stage of the Infinite Shore.
​
To the south lives the dark forest; treacherous and foreboding.
To the north lives the roiling sea; violent and lustful.
Two ineffable unknowns cradle betwixt its bosoms the Infinite Shore.
​
No matter where one steps upon the sand, the shore continues, boundless and forever.
​
There is no beginning; there is no end.
​
The Infinite Shore.
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