A novela I wrote, not much to day about it really.
It was too much to bear…
Kisara woke to the sound of sobbing.
Gentle and constant; like a river, like the ocean, like the Lost Souls in the water just a few feet beneath her.
She opened her eyes, but found only more darkness, complete darkness. She sat up and was greeted by a wave a nausea which she repressed.
She was not hurt from the fire; her clothes were intact, there was no ash, no smell of smoke. It seemed as though it had never happened. The only sign that things were not as they should be was the little boy sobbing in the corner of the room and the broken shards of glass from the lamp littered the ground around him.
“Lucas?” Kisara murmured. The sobbing abruptly stopped.
“Kisara?” Lucas’s tiny voice questioned. Suddenly Kisara could see, there was not spark of light, but now she could make out images in the room. Perhaps her eyes merely adjusted to the low light, or perhaps not.
“Kisara, help me please,” Lucas murmured. “I can’t get out…”
Lucas was leaning agents the wall. His shirt was off, discarded across the other side of the small room. Despite the dim light, she could still see that the pale skin of his arms, chest and neck were covered with long, weeping self inflicted cuts. He didn’t look up; a veil of dirty hair was covering his face, hiding his emotion. Kisara shuddered at the sight of the masses of scarlet blood surrounding him. She fought down a second wave of sickness induced by the salty, coppery smell.
A maternal instinct took over; she picked up his white shirt and went over. Kneeling next to him, she picked up his arm and started to wipe away the dark liquid with the thin white material.
He made no response. She met no resistance. He just kept looking down, his bronze hair hiding his face. There were so many cuts – so much blood.
Welcome to Authspot, the spot for creative writing.
Read some stories and poems, and be sure to subscribe to our feed!