So I have this novel I have started and currently I have major writers block on it, but I managed to bust out four chapters before it hit. It's like a disease that I need a cure for @.@
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The lock clicked and the servants were silent. The door they have been distraughtly trying to get past were now opened in fear. Instantly the scent of blood attacked them and some pushed through the blockade so that their eyes would not confirm what they smelled. By the time others had the chance to soak in the sights their eyes were feeding into their minds, they too ran out in either sanity dwindling screams or tears of murder. At that moment there were only five left, the personal servants.
Sentences were started but were never finished as there were no words that could comfort the weeping boy. He was only nine at the time. They stepped towards him, cringing at the gushing sounds as if they were trekking through a marsh. Though they gulped back the fear that threatened to control their bodies and force them to run away from the entanglement of bodies.
Hands touched the boy's shoulder and the knife slipped from his bloody fingers. "I tried to make them stop," his young voice muttered, "but they wouldn't listen. I didn't want it to come to this." Sympathetic words came to his aid and he broke down into the arms of his servants that he was raised with, on his knees in the ocean of red that soaked him to the bone. His cries of tears and blood were a mix of frustration and sorrow, anger and sadness, but what was most heard was the misfortune and suffering he felt. Free at last or chained down by taken souls? Arms carried his weakened body out of the dreadful room. Away from the bodies that were mutilated in a fierce passion to protect the one he loved. Away from the agonizing moans of pain that still bounced off the walls. And most of all, he would be away from the death he had brought and move on to see if his loved one was safe. Before he was out the door, he pushed aside his servants and firmly stood on his feet.
He reached behind his head and untied the blindfold that was securely fastened around his eyes to look at the carnage for the first time. And what he saw made his mouth twitch upwards just a fraction of an inch. Then his hand flipped the switch on the wall upwards to bring light that broken lamps could no longer accomplish. He saw everything in detail, every drop that splattered on the wall. A corner of his mouth raised. And the other corner did too. He tossed the red blindfold as a token for the dead, the smile still visible.
"Rest in peace, from your one and only son." And with that he was done with those human bodies forever, not looking back to regret his feat. The five servants stared at the blindfold that laid among the repose, the choice of red so the boy would not see how much blood he had spilt.
But it was quite the contrary. The boy wanted to see how much he had done as the servants' eyes missed the thin line of white that hid in the corner of the blindfold. They shut off the light and closed the door behind them, the disturbance of the carpet sending a small wave to ripple its way to dip the corner of the white cloth into the pool just below its tip and melt away the last bit of its true color.
Thu May 10, 2012 9:03 pm
