Drowning Art Novels & Stories

It stands up off Dax's chest. And bows back. The water pours out of its skull in one silver sheet. The thing that hits the sand a second later isn't a wrestler anymore. It isn't much of anything. It folds up small, limbs gone loose as rope, beak working, and its dull yellow-green eyes find me and hold there. Helpless. Completely. A drowning machine that can't so much as lift its head. Dax rolls to his feet, shoulder painted red, and looks at me. Neither of us says anything, because we both know which of us this belongs to.

The rain mixed with my arousal as his tongue worked magic, licking and sucking while Kai kissed me deeply, swallowing my cries. I came hard under the open sky, legs shaking as thunder rolled in the distance. They laid me down on a wide lounge bed sheltered by vines, taking turns claiming me with slow, deep strokes that felt like worship. Water beaded on their skin, making their muscles gleam as they moved above and around me. I lost myself in them completely—Damien filling my mouth, Marcus thrusting into my core, Kai teasing every sensitive spot until pleasure became a continuous wave crashing through me.

--- **The Drowned Choir** We dive at midnight. Soren parts the waves with a hymn, her voice a subsonic drone that vibrates in my molars. The ocean floor yawns open, revealing a cathedral of black coral and leviathan bones. The Choir waits inside, their bodies fused with crustacean armor, throats bioluminescent with parasitic eels. They hiss, tridents aimed. *"Traitor,"* they rasp at Soren. She bows, mocking. "The Stormbearer begs audience with the Starwell."

I tore the veils off my wrists and marched naked towards the river. I just needed to scrub away the wet feel of that man’s dirty tongue on my neck. I kept walking further, flinching only when my feet touched the harsh chill of the water and I kept going further until the water pooled a few inches above my waist. I kept to the surface as I was a bad swimmer who wouldn't want to risk drowning. But wasn't it better? Mentally, the absurd deaths I've had to witness were becoming too extreme to take in, my brain was drowning in every damn scenario.

Panic tightened its grip, and her body began to surrender to fatigue. Her eyes fluttered closed, her limbs falling slack as she drifted downward. Blonde hair fanned out like golden seaweed in the murky water, and her body sank closer to the dark secrets hidden below—a bed of decay, where lifeless forms lay scattered. The greenish tint of the underwater graveyard concealed countless sins of the Cross empire, secrets buried in silence. Then, a splash. Dallion Cross dived into the icy water, cutting through it with precision and urgency. His sharp eyes found her descending form, limp and fading. Powerful strokes brought him to her side, his arm looping around her waist as he propelled them both

ARIA’S POV The day of the event, The Horizon Art Gala, arrives, and everything is meticulously prepared. Julien has kept his plans close to the chest, but tonight, he will reveal the surprise he has been keeping from the media and the public; me and my artwork, "The Abyss," an abstract piece that captures the depths of human emotion.

Even I had to admit that. The painting showed a pair of hands reaching out through water—like someone drowning and someone else trying to pull them out. The background was muted blue and gray, but the hands glowed golden, filled hope most probably. Was this painting made because the person was trying to survive from a situation similar to drowning? I stared at it longer than I should have. “Starting bid—one hundred thousand dollars,” the auctioneer said. People started to stir. Some reached for their paddles. But I spoke first.

Underwater By Nikki Flores If I could draw a line around myself If I could be invisible, no one could hurt me now And I would never need nobody else But it's too late You're everything I swore I'd never be You're making me want something I was doing fine without Like a wave, you're crashing over me And it's too late... it's too late I'm over my head and there's no way out It's like I'm underwater trying not to drown The harder I fight, the deeper I fall What am I so afraid to risk it all? I wish that I could hear, but I can't remember how And the tide can't save me now

"Chloe said music makes her want to die. I ripped the soles from my pointe shoes. Toes bruised, bleeding. Couldn't make a sound at home. Not one sound of pain." Trembling, Victor turned to the last page. I wrote it just yesterday: "If I just disappeared, maybe everyone in this house could breathe easier."

I had screamed and begged, yet no one came to my aid. A massive wave hit, and the impact dislocated my arm. My limb hung at a twisted angle, blood dripping from my wrist onto the yacht's exterior. My cries grew weaker until I fell completely silent. Zachary abruptly shut off the footage. Color drained from his face as he kept muttering to himself, "This is fake, right? It has to be fake…" His voice wavered, stripped of its usual confidence. Trembling uncontrollably, he quavered in disbelief, "How could this happen? Sierra was a top-tier diver! How could she just die like that?"