Blarks

The tide and wind bringing us near a small and rocky island, we swam as best we could for the shore. A strong surf drove us in and exhausted and cut by the sharp rocks along the beach we staggered ashore on a narrow beach. We were bleeding and bruised but grateful for life. And thereupon, each of us drank deeply from a nearby creek and, having drunk our fill, collapsed where we stood and fell into a deep sleep. Since abandoning our ship, we had drifted for three days and were spent. When we awoke, we found we were not alone. There in the trees that grew amongst the island’s rocks and cliffs, we saw that there were Blarks. Black feathers. Beaks like daggers. Sitting, waiting, patient as ever, watching us. And, very hungry looking.