WRITTEN IN INK

restart save load theme

The Daughter

His greying hairs dripped with sweat, he wiped it off his forehead with the sleeve of his drape suit, before putting his hat back on. Dried blood stained the cuff of his shirt.

The cave was dump and warm. Much warmer then outside, weirdly. The waves brought inside the insistent, salty smell of the ocean. No wind came from beyond the darkness, but he could not help but feel the utter emptiness lying only a few steps ahead.

Investigate the darkness

Enter the darkness

Turn from the darkness