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Circulation: 197,621,610 |
Issue: 993 | 6th day of Collecting, Y25 |
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"The Call of Krawk Island" by tazmiko
An impossibly hot midday sun beat down on James’ wet fur. Lying face down on the sandy beach, he looked more like a large lump of seaweed than a Green Wocky. The shrill cries of Pawkeets broke through the ringing in his ears and shimmering visions of gelatinous yellow swam behind his eyelids. He blinked salt from his aching eyes. “You okay there, matey?” came a gravelly voice. James turned his head, looking up into the hairy, Blue face of a Blumaroo. The Blumaroo frowned at him from beneath eyebrows so thick James had to squint to see if there were eyes under there at all. The face cracked into a mocking smile, revealing several gold teeth. “Be it yer ship went down? Or were you just out for an early morning swim?” James pushed himself to his feet groggily, feeling the wet sand slide around beneath his paws. He wiped a clod of sand from his tongue. “Where am I?” He looked around, peering past the Blumaroo and up the beach to where ramshackle buildings dotted the treeline. The Blumaroo let out a guffaw. “Where are yer? WHERE ARE YER?! Bless me doubloons, lad, if you haven’t been washed up at Krawk Island!” His beard danced around as he laughed. “Yer really have been out in the salt...
Other Stories
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 The Life and Times of Bomb Jammer
I stiffened from where I was dressing a Bombfish. I barely managed to keep my knife from cutting away too much of its tough armour-like scales; if I had stuck the blade into the fish wrong, I might have struck one of its internal organs.
by precious_katuch14 |
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