Gabriel
He woke up suddenly, as if cold water had been poured all over his body. He thought he had heard a scream, maybe it was just his imagination again. He thought he heard a voice singing in his dreams, thought he saw another sacrifice touching those cursed emerald stones. No, he was still in that room, the one that was padded to prevent him from hurting himself. God, he hated those walls, wishing that he could tear them apart and escape through the hollow he would create. For now those walls would remain, for now he would bend to the will and power of those who kept him in this prison. Soon though, soon he would escape and there would be nothing they could do. Not even her, with her traitorous body and that damn child of hers. No, he wasn’t going to think of her, not now and never again.
He sat up, throwing his legs over the side of the twin-size bed. He leaned forward and rested his weary head in his hands, resting his elbows on his knees. He thought he could feel the poison of the place seeping into his system, he knew it was there and didn’t much care now. What did it matter if he died anyway? He could sit here, pitying himself, he thought. Or he could pace about this empty room, prowling like a caged tiger. He could call for a nurse to get him a sleep aid or he could he just lie awake for the rest of the night, not that there was much night left. From a tiny window he could see the first few rays of sunshine peeking through the gloom.
Yes, he could do any of those things. But did he really want to? He knew he didn’t feel like sleeping, not after the dreams and the realities that seemed intertwined and yet illusory. He didn’t want to prowl his cage, nor did he want to lie awake pitying himself. So, what to do now? He closed his eyes a moment, allowing his mind to drag him back to his post in a blackened field. He could hear them singing, singing over and over to the next woman to die.
Only, there was no woman there, no new girl tied to the runes and the skies. He heard footsteps, bare feet on the cracked and worn emerald green road. He refused to look up, he didn’t want to see another sacrifice, not another death. He listened closer and heard only one set of feet, one person, not the five that came with sacrifice, death and tradition. One person. He looked up, his green eyes flashing with the thought of saving one person, one girl from such a fate.
She had stepped on the runes, was already beginning to succumb to the magic weaved within stone by blood and bone. No, she wasn’t transfixed by magic, he realized, she was trapped by his eyes. She stared at him, as if she knew him, but she was too close to the stones that would take her.
He began to scream at the top of his voice, crying out and wishing she could hear. “Get Out! GET OUT!”
He saw her eyes widen in terror, saw her press her hands over her ears, trying to block his voice out. Then she ran, she fled back the way she came, never having touched the stones that would bring her harm. One, he thought, I have saved one.
He woke up suddenly, as if cold water had been poured all over his body. He thought he had heard a scream, maybe it was just his imagination again. He thought he heard a voice singing in his dreams, thought he saw another sacrifice touching those cursed emerald stones. No, he was still in that room, the one that was padded to prevent him from hurting himself. God, he hated those walls, wishing that he could tear them apart and escape through the hollow he would create. For now those walls would remain, for now he would bend to the will and power of those who kept him in this prison. Soon though, soon he would escape and there would be nothing they could do. Not even her, with her traitorous body and that damn child of hers. No, he wasn’t going to think of her, not now and never again.
He sat up, throwing his legs over the side of the twin-size bed. He leaned forward and rested his weary head in his hands, resting his elbows on his knees. He thought he could feel the poison of the place seeping into his system, he knew it was there and didn’t much care now. What did it matter if he died anyway? He could sit here, pitying himself, he thought. Or he could pace about this empty room, prowling like a caged tiger. He could call for a nurse to get him a sleep aid or he could he just lie awake for the rest of the night, not that there was much night left. From a tiny window he could see the first few rays of sunshine peeking through the gloom.
Yes, he could do any of those things. But did he really want to? He knew he didn’t feel like sleeping, not after the dreams and the realities that seemed intertwined and yet illusory. He didn’t want to prowl his cage, nor did he want to lie awake pitying himself. So, what to do now? He closed his eyes a moment, allowing his mind to drag him back to his post in a blackened field. He could hear them singing, singing over and over to the next woman to die.
Only, there was no woman there, no new girl tied to the runes and the skies. He heard footsteps, bare feet on the cracked and worn emerald green road. He refused to look up, he didn’t want to see another sacrifice, not another death. He listened closer and heard only one set of feet, one person, not the five that came with sacrifice, death and tradition. One person. He looked up, his green eyes flashing with the thought of saving one person, one girl from such a fate.
She had stepped on the runes, was already beginning to succumb to the magic weaved within stone by blood and bone. No, she wasn’t transfixed by magic, he realized, she was trapped by his eyes. She stared at him, as if she knew him, but she was too close to the stones that would take her.
He began to scream at the top of his voice, crying out and wishing she could hear. “Get Out! GET OUT!”
He saw her eyes widen in terror, saw her press her hands over her ears, trying to block his voice out. Then she ran, she fled back the way she came, never having touched the stones that would bring her harm. One, he thought, I have saved one.
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