 Nightmares part I
The dark side of me...
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| Nightmares part I |
| 07.19.04 (2:20 pm) [edit] |
The only light in the small room came from the faintly glowing coals in the large copper bowl affixed to a low tripod in the center of the room. This light served only to define the rounded lip of the bowl, making the rooms darkness seem thick and almost solid. A hand slid from the black and hovered over the center of the red glow. A low voice rumbled low in the darkness and the hand opened, dropping a mixture of herbs on to the coals. The dried plants struck the heat and ignited in small bursts of flame, sending a strong, earthy aroma into the air.
The flares of light briefly illuminated the owner of the hand, a small woman in her mid-thirties sitting cross-legged in front of the brazier, her straight black hair falling free to her waist. The dancing shadows twisted over her skin and transformed her into a monstrous grotesque.
The room returned to black as the last of the herbs burned away. Slowly the woman reached into the earthenware bowl by her right side. As she took a handful she began a low, rhythmic chant. Once again her hand slithered out and opened. This time however, flower petals fell from her grasp. Their sweet, cloying perfume mixed with the already thickly spiced air, making every breath feel weighted.
She finished the chant and sat silently watching the petals burn. They were not as dry as the herbs had been and took longer to both ignite and turn to ash. An unpleasant little smile crept to her face in the twisting light as she thought of the effects her work this night would have. Soon a soul would be hers to do with as she pleased. She had searched long for just the right one to choose, a young man in his twenties, strong of body and confident of spirit. He would provide entertainment for quite some time before he broke. In the back of her mind a distant voice whispered a warning.
"All deeds return threefold..."
She knew that voice and pushed it away with a practiced ease. It was the voice of her old teacher and had once held the power of life and death in its intonations. That voice had no power now. The teacher was dead, silenced for no less than ten years while the former pupil thrived.
She glanced at her hands where they lay folded in her lap, remembering the feel of her teachers neck as it had snapped. She sighed. Not a sophisticated way to kill but she had yet to learn the more subtle ways and the teacher's death had been a necessity. She could almost see the look of horror from the older woman's face leering at her through the smoke.
After the initial shock of learning her pupil's practice of the forbidden arts the look of horror changed into stern disapproval and the immediate threat of reporting the transgression to the council. The report had never been made. She shook her head slowly side to side feeling her long hair sway against her naked flesh. In her own fashion she had liked the woman and even respected her. If the older woman had seen fit to use a little leniency, chances are she would probably have lived.
The last of the petals ceased to flame. She snapped her focus to the present and waited as the glow faded from even the edges of the blackened petal. In her mind's eye she held a picture of the boy, one that included every minor detail from the flecks of gold in the depths of his green eyes to the slight bounce in his step as he walked. Her fingers moved to trace an intricate pattern in the smoky air and her voice began the final incantation.
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posted by: aWindow (reply)
post date: 07.20.04 (4:07 pm)
more please...
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Nightmares part I
