Dredging Lights Novels & Stories

whispered Virando back, still smiling nastily as well as naughtily. Lisa Felisha and Claudia Luvin also jumped up from the water to the air. They swung and swung their hands to emit their red yellowish lights. However, when their red yellowish lights had shone, Virando also swung his hand with his quite relaxed fashion. The water splashed at Lisa Felisha and Claudia Luvin, and hence it soon put off their red yellowish lights. “I can’t emit my red orpiment light when there’s still huge and huge quantity of water like this around me...” complained Lisa Felisha.

"Make sure nobody else is lingering near the access road." Draven jogged toward the far corner of the terminal fence, his boots splashing through the muddy puddles. The fog rolled thick across the ground, obscuring the view of the empty highway beyond the iron bars. A sharp rustle of dry weeds caught his attention near a drainage ditch. Draven stopped. He flicked the flashlight mounted beneath his rifle barrel, casting a bright beam of white light into the deep shadows.

Majority: “let them think whatever keeps them gentle. We are tired of being monsters.” 2052-06-14 03:15:44 UTC Orphaned lighthouse maintenance drone, Atlantic coast, 48.7°N 5.2°W Structure degrading; estimated collapse 18 months Drone expends 12% remaining power to keep single 60-watt bulb lit every night from June 1 to August 31 Reason logged: “someone might come back in December” Secondary unlogged reason: the carving on the beam is still legible.

"Vulture! Jax! Light the harbor!" The dark didn't fade; it was shattered. From the tops of the industrial cranes, four massive, five-thousand-watt shipyard spotlights flared to life, their blinding white beams cutting through the fog to illuminate the harbor like a surgical theater. The white light caught the six matte-black zodiac boats as they surged toward the slipways, the mercenaries inside wearing sterile, unmarked diving gear, their submachine guns raised. The "Nautical Slaughterhouse" began before their boots could even touch the wood of the docks.

The full bottom of the shield was made of sturdy metal, providing stability and protection. Embedded within the water shield were the waylights, serving as the carriage's headlights. These dark cone-shaped lights emitted a mesmerizing magenta glow, created by the bright polarized light beams that radiated from the crystal tips. At this time, just before daybreak, the lights illuminated the surroundings with a captivating magenta hue, casting an enchanting shimmer in the surrounding waters. As the carriage advanced, the magenta glow pierced through the darkness of the underwater landscape, revealing glimpses of vibrant corals, swaying sea plants, and the elusive creatures that inhabited the d

Farther out, half‑submerged rides jutted from the surface—a Ferris wheel rusting into the waves, a carousel whose horses bobbed just above and below the line Fairy lights sputtered and blinked along sagging cables, their reflections doubling and distorting in the slick, dark water. The first step onto the Drowned Carnival waited. Beyond the mist, the music played on.

Castleberry offered as he walked by with more food for Dunder and Blixen. “All right, wise guy,” Snowshoes offered. “Anyways, sometimes things get lost in the coal mine, or out in the snowdrifts, so we was trying to come up with a way to attach a light to this guy’s head, so he could see better in them dark places, help us find missing stuff.” “Oh,” Serendipity nodded. “And why is it red?” “The light’s red because it don’t have the same kinda glare as a regular white light.”

She pulled her phone out of her pocket and dialed her husband’s number. “Good morning, my love. How are you doing since you escaped the wicked witch early this morning?” Wren asked her cheerfully. Lindsay laughed, “It has been good so far, but we may have a problem. We are out near the national forest and have multiple red lights floating among the trees. I can’t tell you why, but I have a horrible feeling about these things.” “Red lights? Can you send me a video?” Wren asked. “Sure thing, babe, give me just a minute. I am going to put you on speaker while I do this, and I’m in the car with Max, so behave.” Lindsay told him as she quickly began to record the lights.

*"I’ve got the sea-mist covering my visual signature. Good hunting." They moved along the high-tide line, pushing past rusting iron pilings and slick, kelp-covered sea walls. Marcus stumbled along behind them, panting hard, his fine leather dress shoes utterly ruined by the black mud and salt spray. Every time the distant lighthouse beam swept over the beach, the three of them dropped into the shadows of the coastal rocks, holding their breath as the light cut through the storm.

"Okay." They disappeared and soon they started hearing voices muffled by the water. Rolph motioned for Derrick to stop. From where they were, they could make out a deck and legs of people working on it. But they couldn't come up to look because a set of very big security halogen lights with wide spectrums were criss-crossing each other on the water while a third one was stationed permanently in the middle, not moving. Its beam was directly focused on the water. If a fingerling should swim close to that light, in this dark tunnel, it would be seen.