Tag: dark

The Mistress of the Lake (Chapter Five)

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She looked up at the sky; it too appeared at calm. No Electric Storms brewing this time. How strange to have been through such an intense experience with no corroboration whatsoever? How was it that there was absolutely no proof that what had come to pass had actually happened? As she pondered at the events that had just come and gone, her gaze browsed her surroundings, and she observed the breathtaking scenery that lay around her: lush grass patches delineated a dirt path that lead to a cluster of tall trees and through them, she discerned a glistening lake that beckoned her.

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The Descent (Chapter Four)

The descent felt easy, effortless and swift. Trance like. The Basilisk’s stare singed the back of her mind, commanding her to descend as she hovered over each step, gliding almost, downwards. She reached the landing of the staircase and turned to face the massive clock that stood in the centre so imposingly before continuing further down. The hands, she saw, were spinning in a silent frenzy, forwards and further forwards in time. She stood in front of it, as if mesmerized by its constant movement. It felt strangely soothing. The Basilisk hissed at her hesitation, as his behest was for her to descend down into the gut of the House on the Hill.

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The nth Life

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I awake; eyes open wide, ears pierced back, I lay still for a while and take in the damp dense air.

It smells like victory tonight.

I creep; silently, dauntingly, down the roof and over the lines of fences in the deadest hour of the night.
It is now my moment to thrive.

I search; in utter stealth, clandestinely for the gifts of the dark. I am omniscient and dominantly alone to reap the rewards of the nth life.

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I Cried Wolf

Last night it was cold. It was freezing. The snow kept falling and falling, and as it continued to fall for hours, it weaved a thick white blanket that covered the landscape. In the wooden cottage, it was warm; warm and safe and lonely. The cries of the pack outside haunted my mind, painted disturbing pictures, images of pain and longing and yearning. My body begged me to stay indoors, by the fire, to fetch more wood, to cuddle up in front of the flames and relish in the feeling of safety. Yet my mind traveled fast, beyond the cottage, over the white blanket and into the woods, following the howls. But I stayed; I stayed until I could no longer hear the calling, the beckoning. And then I slept.

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The Waiting, The Waking, The Calling…

Tense as if your muscles are on constant strain
Blank as if your mind is empty
Numb as if your soul has been decanted

And you wait, in the waking
Perched on your seat,
Grabbing the armrests with all your fingers’ might

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The Forest of Forever (Chapter one)

7So she walked a whisper like walk, weightless and wistful, as her white gown trailed behind her frail footsteps. Her head hung low and the usual sea of thoughts filled her mind. It was no wonder she could not hear the sound of her feet or the rustling of leaves; voices muffled and reverberant, a multitude of shrieks and woes, of secrets and confessions. For the all of eternity this would be her price to pay, in the conscious awake part of her being, in penitence, in restlessness, in the prison of her mind for the crime she had been condemned of. According to her impious fate, now, as it was written in the Scrolls of the Stars, she roamed the Forest of Forever, searching for questions she only knew the answers to. ‘Balance’. She sought the equilibrium of Balance.

The voices were never discernible. The voices were always there. Day in, day out. Her dreams were her only haven. She solaced in the revelry of her subconscious escapades where she would be free from fear, free from frustration. ‘In Somnii, Veritas. Per Somnii, Libertas.’ She had no other place to go than to retreat to her core at nightfall, in the midst of the Forest and seek redemption for her scarred soul.

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