A novela I wrote, not much to day about it really.
d Part 2: Lucas c
She stood completely still for a moment, not daring to move. A rustle of movement behind her alerted her senses she whirled around towards the direction the sound came from. A matched flared to life and she started and she saw the room clearly. It was square, about two metres across and made of dark coloured wood with a low ceiling that forced her to hunch. There was no furniture. Shadows from the flame cast the room into an eerie near darkness. But with only the little light, she could still see that on every surface of the room there were carvings. She stared at them, it was a poem repeated endlessly:
Shadow or sun; which to trust?
Wrath, sloth, gluttony, greed, envy, pride and lust.
Thrice now the wheel hath turned,
Yet very little we have learned,
Mistakes repeated again and again
I fear for my mind, am I no longer sane?
Where did we go wrong? Where did we fail?
Always searching; the Holy Grail.
Lucifer, Satin, bringer of light,
God is gone; we die in the night,
I am burning and dying on the beach of hell,
All that is left is this empty shell,
Will we ever win? Will we wallow in sin?
Illusion is the enemy, or the illusion we hide within.
Thine lies and hatred; thine own deadly sin.
The rhyme instantly burned itself into Kisara’s mind, repeating itself like a broken record.
It was warmer in the room than it was outside in the billowing wind, but it was still freezing. She shivered and Goosebumps appeared on her pale arms. There was something off about those words, like they were two steps to the right of normal.
They were the testament of a breaking mind. Kisara recognised the writing; it was Sean’s, before he had become what he now is.
“He was the first of us.”
Kisara whirled around at the sound of a second voice, bashing her head on the low ceiling of the dim room. She cursed softly under her breath as her eyes came back into focus.
The other presence was a boy. He had pale skin that looked like it hadn’t seen sunlight in weeks, although Kisara doubted there was much sun at that beach. His bronze brown hair was lank and tousled and dirty, fading the shiny colour. He was dirty all over and his cloths were torn in places. His green-blue eyes were duller than they should be. Yet Kisara still recognised him instantly. He was the boy from the vision she had had on the ladder.
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