Thoughts from my study of Horror, Media, and Narrrative

Feel It On My Fingertips

The storm, fated to clear on a Friday, was relentless. Capricans scurried about, unaware that this day would be repeated in the stories of Noah and Utnapishtim (all of this has happened before and will happen again). Social order broke down as the deluge continued; we had misinterpreted the message, confusing suffering with divine retribution.

And still the rain fell.

Daniel, hurting in more ways than we can imagine, lashed out in order to reacquire the one thing he could still reclaim. Amanda, already on edge, began to question the role of others in the death of her daughter. Barnabas, growing more desperate, clung to the vestiges of what he once had. Clarice, cold and determined, fought back against those who would wish her ill. Betrayed, our characters sought vengeance; conscious or not, each strove to harm those that would harm them. A choice made, a path taken; a goal—once so clear!—was now obscured by the haze.

And still the rain fell.


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