#WIP (Work in Progress) ---- “He cannot speak to you,” my daughter said, and the desperation in her voice was such that I almost turned my face toward her. I tried; my head turned, but my eyes remained locked on the beautiful man. “I see,” said the man, but his expression said he did not. His fingertips touched my face. I lost something, just then. A moment of time, or more. Instants… dreams. Memories, perhaps, as some part of my brain that had been damaged beyond repair tried to respond to this man’s power. I saw men, many of them though none were human, dressed in strange clothes and screaming as they ran from me. I saw the walls of a hewn-out hole, loaded with shelves and bubbling jars and horrifying sharp things. I saw a table covered in blood where I had lain (how did I know that?), and a path lined with bodies away from the place where I had broken my bonds. Then my vision went white, then black, and all the strength left my body. I collapsed in a heap, seizing, frothing, unable to do anything more.
Posted on: Thu, 18 Dec 2014 08:38:55 +0000
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