The sun was setting as Tom walked along the shore edge, cool water lapping up at his bare feet. He smiled slightly as he stilled and just allowed the liquid fill his foot print and flood between his toes. It tickled a bit… He blinked and swayed, a sudden urge to go into the ocean. Seemingly unaware of his movements, he began to wade into the water until it was to his chest, his thoughts recollected for just a split moment before he was dragged into the dark depths, consciousness soon leaving with the faint sound of a villainous laugh…
He awoke to find his body stiff where it was shackled to a stone wall. Tom blinked away his dreariness, glancing around the damp, dark cell that surrounded him. He couldn’t see much, until he turned his head to the left and saw a skeleton mere inches away from his face, it’s jaw agape and what looked like bugs crawling over and through the cavities in its teeth. He nearly jumped out of his skin and scooted back as far as the chain length would allow him.
He scanned the room more fearfully, heart pounding in his ears. He felt like he was being watched, that something he couldn’t see was there, staring him down… A soft whimper escaped his lips and he tugged at the restraints, hearing the chain links rattle as he did. What was going on?
Tom prayed to every god he could think of as he sat there for several moments, curling into himself as he waited for something to happen. His ears twitched on their own accord, listening to every and all sounds. He pressed back against the wall even further as he saw a figure walk toward him out of the shadows, unable to make out the face. He squinted and gasped as thin wryly fingers with long, sharp, black claw-like nails squeezed at his cheeks.
The man looked up in terror at the looming figure, completely helpless in the current position. He pulled back as a familiar face pressed out of the shadows, wicked grin and beady eyes coming into view. Tom winced as the witch tightened her grip on his face, nails pressing into his skin. She leered before letting him go and pulling back, clapping her hands and turning on a blinding light. Tom squinted before coming accustomed to the brightness and tightening his grip on his shackles. He growled, hoping to seem menacing.
The witch only tutted to that as she walked over to pick up an empty potion bottle and a cork, “Oh Thomas… You know that won’t work on me! Besides, we both know you don’t mean it, after all… You love me…” She purred, but it was like pure evil dripping from her fangs. Before he could object she shushes him and kneeled in front of him, smiling devilishly. “Now… I need something from you. And since you won’t hurt your poor wittle siren, I’ll have to settle for this.” She waved her hand and pulled a fluid smoke-like substance from Tom’s mouth, his eyes fluttering shut as she did. She smiled almost reminiscently and made it dance in the air before leading it into her bottle and corking it. She stood and waved it in Tom’s nearly unconscious face, “Pretty, isn’t it Tommy-Boy? It’s your essence! With this, I can make several new potions,” she explained excitedly. She huffed when he didn’t respond and snapped her fingers, causing him to fall into a deep sleep. He’d need his rest, for this was just the beginning.
What felt like forever later, the witch had declared Tom to be useless for now and sent him back to the surface, not caring to take him back to shore. He floated to the shore eventually, too fried to try to help himself. His skin was pale, lips a bluish hue and bones and veins showing clearly through his nearly transparent skin. His eyes, when open, were eerily hazy almost grey; much unlike their usual deep brown shade. He drifted to shore, wet and cold and paralyzed.
Tom lay there, zombified from the witch’s doing until someone would find and rescue him…