Heavy breathing, her fists clenched behind her back against the door, her legs shaking.
Eyes still shut, she took a long deep breath.
Relief.
She had just marginally escaped the double wrath of the strange limbo-like wilderness, manifesting itself in the imminent Electric storm and the pack of crones prowling outside. Yet somehow she did not feel entirely safe even behind the bolted door. A false sense of security grew in the pit of her stomach. She could not be sure whether the insides of this House on the Hill held no hostility, no grudges against her, and did not seek to harm her soul. In fact, she was more certain than not that the House was awaiting her arrival in order to begin its foul play. However, she could not afford to be overcome with panic and so she tried to calm herself by thinking, “confront each fear as it comes, not before”.
But was it fear indeed? Fear of what? Of the unknown, fear of something real, or an illusion? Fear of feeling helpless and alone, fear of feeling powerless and lost? Fear of pain, of loss, of damnation? She still did not know which questions to ask, and this scared her more than any demons or traps Leviathan placed in her path. Continue reading The Children of Leviathan (Chapter three)
Helen Marie Joyce 