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This story means a lot to me, thought you'd like to know.
I wish you an enjoyable read and hope to hear from you.
Chapter 1: Haunting
A simple thud…
It’s impact so strong…
… Yet, it’s just a beat.
Strong…
Reassuring…
A beat…
A heartbeat.
His heartbeat.
So silent…
So flowing…
Lost in a paradise of wonder.
Unknown…
Seems so secure…
So pleasant…
So quiet…
Soft, warm silk laced itself between his fingers. It danced upon his features leaving him with a smile. It touched so gently his lips finding its way within him. The joy of the moment as he tasted the sweet essence.This is what you always wanted. Just take it. It’s yours.
The voice wavered its way into his thoughts, soothing his mind……But ravaged his soul.
He opened his eyes in horror to what he had almost done and found nothing but an infinite red plain. Here? Again? He had to breathe. His lungs were screaming out for what would keep him alive, away from this red oblivion. He swam to what he believed was the surface. Light started to filter in giving him a route, but as he swam closer, the light kept moving away from him, the substance he was submerged into kept growing thicker, his hopes kept weakening at every moment.
The pain in his body strangled every last bit of his hopes of reaching the surface. Against all instinct, he swam harder, his arm outstretched to touch the threshold. Yet, he couldn’t. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t free himself. Fate was against him and his body kept him down. The pain was dire. His mind was racing, his soul screaming.I can’t let this happen… Not here.
He tried once more, stretching upwards, praying to whichever god was looking upon him to relieve him of the pain. He felt something different around his fingers. The substance was lighter, softer… weaker. Air… He gave one last stroke to break through.
He touched it. The threshold was there but he couldn’t go through. A black veil had clouded his eyes. He couldn’t feel pain, his body numb. Gently he swayed downwards and all he was left with was a gentle darkness.He heard it again.
His heartbeat.
Slow…
Weak…
Gods help me, I beg of you…
A strong force grabbed his arm and pulled him viciously to the surface. His entire being broke through the threshold and gently let him touch the ground. He heaved in the much needed air. Eyes open wide at the shock of his near death.
“What have I done?”
He gazed upon the ground he laid on, trembling with the cold and the incident. Pushing himself on his knees he observed the earth, marred with the red silk. He was covered in it. He looked as his hands seeming to foreign to him suddenly. The red dripped from his hands onto the scorched earth. What have I done? Guilt seized him and tried to pull him into misery, but that only left him fighting it. His hands curled into fists. He was completely disgusted with himself.
“What is wrong with me?” he hissed to himself through gritted teeth.
He abruptly realized, wondering who had helped him. He relaxed, every muscle in his body loosened, tension faded away. Gazing upon his palms, those memories would never cease to haunt him. His face, though enveloped in the silk, had clear streaks running down his cheeks – proof that warm tears had flowed from his sorrow.
There was no point of wiping them away. He scanned the area: it was cold, dark, quiet. Before him lay the pool of red, he stared at it wondering why he had to be crucified by his so many mistakes over and over again. Black stalactites hung over him like claws aching to rip him apart, the rocky ground dry from life, the air bitter from the stench of death and grief.
He couldn’t find his savior.
He was alone…
…Veiled in blood.
“Where are you?” his whispers barely audible.
He tried to stand up but he was weak. He tried again, laboring to keep his balance. Slowly he found equilibrium and looked around.
No one. Where are you?
Something squeezed his shoulder and he turned around. There he was, the one who saved his life yet again.
“Not you, not again,” he didn’t want to believe that he had saved his life once more.
The older man didn’t flinch. No expression was present on his marble face. His ruby eyes never left the youth’s.
The silence was broken by the man’s smirk; long canines revealed themselves. The boy fell back onto his knees. An emotion he had only known recently rooted itself within his heart. Eye contact never shattered.
The man moved closer to him. The youth started to suffocate in his aura; so powerful, dominant, overwhelming… So dark.
“Stay away from me!” the lad cried.
“I just saved your life… again,” that damned smirk never left his face, his eyes alight in pleasure.
“I don’t care!” tears started streaming down his marred face once more. He didn’t want to be there, not while he was there. He loathed him…yet he needed him, “Just stay away.”
His pleas reached the man as his smirk faded into a frown and anger was ignited. He dashed forward, seizing the youth’s neck and kept him above his head at arm’s length. The boy fought against the grip around his neck, trying to induce air into his lungs; the ground nowhere in his reach.
“Why won’t you accept who you are?” his hand tightening around the fragility he held. He wasn’t expecting a response. “I’ve offered you so much with no appreciation. Just accept it. It’s always been yours.”
The boy was falling unconscious, his body numb, his fighting futile yet his will was still as strong. Wiles of pain escaped his throat as he felt sharp blades slice through his skin. His capturer threw him to the ground with amusement.
The crippled soul fought for air, his hands trying to stop the bleeding from his neck. He looked upon the dominant one, his own blood dripping from clawed fingers. Smirk back in place…
The youth tried to stand, yet the sudden event had weakened him thus falling back onto his knees. His hands covered in his own life force swept the earth asking the element for its strength. Looking at the ground he realized it was futile – the earth wouldn’t help him. His own blood mangled with that of others’ – his own doing. His chest tightened as rage boiled and curled within him.
“Why must you taint me again?” The boy stared up at the man, his eyes never leaving the flaming orbs above him. His breath came in short uniform gasps.
“Why do you keep haunting me?!”
His voice, so full of rage, echoed throughout the somber cave. The man looked down at the boy, smirk gone leaving no expression; his marble face unmoving, his heart unfeeling, unsure what to make out of this act. Then again, it hadn’t been the first time he had riled against him even after doing him a favor, such as saving his life.
“It’s always been yours. Always.”
The younger man, still on his knees pulled away from his gaze and shut his eyes tight. He didn’t want to listen to him, not any more.
“Just leave me alone.”
Yet, the man standing didn’t answer his plea, “It’s been so from the very beginning.”
“Don’t!” his rage was difficult to control in his presence, threatening to explode. He wouldn’t accept it. No matter what had been written, he will not follow.
“Even before your own existence.”
The boy didn’t look up at him though he was right there, in front of him. His hands had curled into quivering fists, his muscles taut, breathing heavy. His head bowed in rebellion against everything and everyone. He wouldn’t fall. He couldn’t fall.
“Why must you tempt me?!” anger started to seep through, “Why must you do this to me?!” his voice was harsh.
The man could now see straight through the youth’s eyes. He searched through his emotions, judged every move, though on his knees his pose was righteous. There was anger, pure and deadly.
The red in his eyes stormed in delight, even more when the boy’s rage trembled, ready to be unleashed as soon as he wore his trademark smirk. He moved over to the boy casually. Eye contact locked between them.
The clawed hand found its way around the boy’s neck once more, but this time, he only held him. Proving to him that he is no match against his power.
“Why do you keep on denying?”
The youth didn’t fight him, he held the man’s arm for balance as to not fall onto his back. His eyes narrowed, wanting to rip that smirk off his face.
“Release me,” his voice barely a whisper but oozed of threat and rage.
The man’s smirk just grew wider, “My pleasure.”
The young man found his way back into the red abyss, hand still firmly on his neck.
“You will aid me.”
That was the last thing he heard him say before his possession was passed on to the proprietors of the mangled blood. Screeches and wails broke through the air as cold bony hands clawed at him. They pulled at him deeper, a veil of black, sewn out of these souls’ death wrapped itself around him. No matter how much he fought, the veil grew thicker, their grief grew deeper, the red around him darker.
Take it, it’s always been yours.
He didn’t listen to the voice. He fell before, he wouldn’t again.
If you wish to release yourself from this curse…
… Accept it!
“NO!”
A black wave of tragedy liberated itself from the depths of the abyss. It flowed gently upwards, finding its new toy – ready to embrace.
It’s right there. Take it. You’ll die at their hands if you do not accept it.
Time seemed to have stopped. He gazed at the wave encircling him and the rest like barracks. Something inside him awakened. His finally lips uttered one word, “Yes…”
The wave swirled around him like a whirlpool, dissolving the veil, dimming the wails, destroying the dead.
He was free: What have I done? The black walls towered above him then slowed to a halt.
Silence.
The darkness fell upon him…
…Inside…
… Of…
“Relax… relax. I’m safe,” I hope.
Pale light filtered into the room giving a somewhat good idea of the objects scattered around him. Yet it was still dark enough to wonder what was hiding within the shadows. He checked his pulse rate and found it at a 130 yet declining. Taking deep even breaths he relaxed his senses, uncoiling all tension in his body; still taking note of his pulse. After a few moments it was back to 60.
Sweat glistened on his skin in the moonlight. Faintly, drops of nausea slid down his back, meandering around the taut muscles still quivering with adrenaline. He wiped away the sweat from his face with both hands and continued their route, raking his hair. Falling back onto the cold wet pillow, the constant squealing of his alarm clock finally caught his attention.
03:02
He perched himself on his elbow and switched it off. Seven minutes. That’s how long it had taken – seven minutes. Dreams usually last a few seconds in total, but his… they aren’t just dreams, they’re reality. Knowing perfectly well that if he looked in a mirror he’d find scars around his neck, he rubbed that vital area still feeling the blades. He sighed in hopelessness. He wondered whether he was strong enough to keep saying ‘No’.
“And yet I said ‘Yes’,” he started shaking, “What’s wrong with me?” He rubbed his eyes and forehead with the heal of his hand. He gazed back at the digital alarm clock. Whatever he did to escape these dreams of his he’d always fail. He tried setting the alarm half an hour earlier but that only led him to set on the snooze. He tried not sleeping, but that got him into the middle of a worried agenda. Lately he started setting it to five to three in the morning – five minutes before it starts. It was always the same. He'd be trapped within a blissful macabre, out of Reality's reach. At 3AM on the dot, that son of a bitch would enter his mind and try to make him embrace his worst nightmare. So many times he had to be introduced to something he believed was non-existent within his battle-hardened shell. So many times was he introduced, thanks to him, introduced… to fear. He wanted the boy to become something else, something he carved out of his blood-drenched mind. He won’t succeed. I won’t become what he wants. I won’t.
But then, why… His gaze never left the red digits. His heart started thumping hard against his chest, as if wanting to rip itself out of his ribcage. He couldn’t get his eyes off that color. His mind started racing. “Why is it so tempting?” The answer to that question came as a sting like an electric bolt within his right shoulder, which painfully slid across to his neck and down his back, disappearing suddenly as it reached his spine. Stephen stood still, clutching his neck. Yes, that was why. The mark on his neck was his answer.
He started wishing he could just give up who he is. He sighed knowing it was just impossible. His fate was sealed with his own blood. It wasn’t that he had had enough of his permanent occupation, it was the fact that too many things have happened ever since he was brought in the monastery by the Sanctic monks. The High Priest had taken him into his custody. Stephen was only four. His parents disappeared. The reason for the uproar is still a mystery in his eyes.
So many years have passed.
Stephen sat there in his bed; his left arm resting on his thigh, the other on his knee. His was breath slow, controlled. His body, relaxed, unmoving. His face ridden with thought and sorrow for what he had lost. He had almost fallen into a trance in the darkness of his room, the light and his mind joined together in a lusting dance. Closing his eyes, he cast out his senses out into his room touching floorboard, curtain, paper, wall, anything. From his room he went out into the gardens below. Although in slumber, the monastery gardens were throbbing with life. He touched gently each life force: tree, leaf, bird, rose, soil, rock – one by one. It was his lullaby, nature’s lullaby for only him to listen to, to drift onto and be taken away…
He was suddenly knocked back into his consciousness. He looked around. That chuckle. It reverberated around the room, coiling itself around him. Could he really be in the room that moment? Stephen got out of bed, scanning every inch of the room. The chuckle only augmented in volume then turned into laughter. The youth could literally feel the sound of his voice crawl onto his skin.
You will aid me boy.
Where is he? Where is he hiding?
Chuckles resumed till they disappeared into nothingness.
Gods… He’s gone.
He hadn’t been in the room.
He was still in his mind.
Inhale and exhale, he let the adrenaline flush out of his system. Walking over to the window, he opened it and let the freezing night air engulf him. It was no more than a huge relief. He rested on the windowsill, once again in thought… about him. How could he fall for that bastard’s tricks?
He ran a hand through his jet-black hair and pulled a strand infront of his face. He ironically noted to himself that he needed a hair cut stretching the strand from his hairline which reached down to his nose. Nothing gel can’t fix. His eyes searched for the moon, but there was no trace of her, preferring to hide behind huge grey clouds. Tiny specks of diamond littered the black sky.
A gentle breeze brought him a sweet scent. Eyes closed, he inhaled the perfume. The wind whispered to him softly. A smile found its way upon his lips. He sighed. About to rain.
He sighed once more, this time in frustration. He needed answers. He came to a decision: he’d have a word to the High Priest later that morning.
