Masquerade (being rewritten)

1

"Two more succumbed whilst I was sleeping,"

The quiet scratching of a quill on paper was all that pierced the empty air, devoid of life.

"My dreams though vivid are now hazy and slip through my subconscious like fingers through water.'

There was a quiet sigh along with the cracking of bones as the author continued in its neated and looped cursive penmanship.

"I..."

The quill paused as the author paused with thought, a small droplet of ink shaking precariously on the nib.

"I think that these dreams connect with my past despite the ridicularity of the notion, the figures.. they're so different from the current me but, so.. similar."

The quill ceased its movement as it was dipped in a nearby inkwell one last time to scribe in large, feminine writing;

'13.'

Quickly the nib was dried and stored in a small wooden box, a pale hand -almost silver in the dim light- reached into a light thatch bag and withdrew a hand full of sand, sprinkling it frugally across the page and depositing the remainder back into the bag before retying it with a simple piece of plaided thread, made from the frays of old clothing.

The ink was finally dry and after shaking off the few excess grains of sand the yellowed page was carefully shut revealing small red leather bound book at least three fingers thick and with fraying at the spines stitching. The pages were indeed yellowed with age and the pages were already beginning to crumble.

The woman hidden in shadow quickly picked up the inkwell and box containing the quill and made their way to a corner of the stone room.

There she deposited her treasure carefully inside a small cranny which could commonly be mistaken for rodent's crack.

Her book however, was not deposited here and instead was carefully picked up and taken the opposite side and after counting the stones with her toes the woman shimmied a loose stone from it's resting place, revealing a small hole in which the book fit snugly.

As the large, cracked stone was carefully put back into place the figure sprinkled some excess dust and crumbled mortar over the stone, hiding the cracks completely.

Of course it was virtually impossible to see in the darkness but she managed well enough, after all supposed years spent down in this hell one was expected to regain vision eventually. Although along with vision the woman was also excellent with her other senses, down here as sight was inhibited by dark stone walls and flooring the other senses naturally had to adjust to cope with the new environment.

Walking over the hidden book the woman padded quietly to the end of the stone cell and traced the markings scratched in there long ago. Four lines in each etching along with a line crossing through it all.

'5, 10, 15, 20... 35... 48..'

The markings ended at forty-eight... She sighed mindlessly tracing the markings, they held special meaning her although the reason was still unknown. She had no memory of the person previously inside the cell or of sharing this cell with anyone.

The woman remembered a few other people down here with her in the lower levels but she was always alone within this cell. She wondered briefly if she had etched the markings but the thought was dismissed eventually. The sharp cuts into solid stone were not easy and looked to be done with some kind of sharp material like a dagger, stone or.. claws of some sort. They were crude and desperate.

She wasn't desperate anymore. Her eyes were resigned, emotionless... blank.

Not to mention this person had supposedly been here for 48 of something, days could apply to her but these markings varied in age. Months were more likely but it could also have been years. The woman knew this could not have been her as her body still possessed the body of a young undeveloped adolescent.

No, whoever came here before them stayed for at least 4 years. Mayhaps they were different people adding their mark?

Yes... That was possible...

Picking up a small, sharp stone the girl began etching her own mark into the wall into the lower right corner of the markings. Though for now the marks were only scratches she would work on them over time making them as deep and magnificent as that above...

'Ego sim novissimo... XIII'

'May I be the last... 13...'

With that silent vow the girl continued on the etchings hardly even noticing the jangle of keys from the doorway.

When the cell opened though, did she spring up a snarl already implanted on her face. The stone hidden behind her thin and bony back.

As light began to enter the room the girl hissed and screamed, pupils dilating into small slits.
Blinded and helpless against the pain she could do nothing to fight back and as light crept into the furthest corners of the cramped cell, details could now be noticed that weren't before.

The small and cramped proximity of the room, obviously built to accommodate at most two people, the small corner of rotting hay and fur in the corner which, judging by the human shaped indentation, was the girl's bed. The roof though was slightly higher and smaller different etchings and lost messages were written around the cell. Some in blood, others scratched on and the rest in some indescribable substance that one would not be able to comprehend.

Many had been here before and many more would continue to come after.

The blinded woman was dragged up the stairwell crying and screaming, the emotion fear finally entering her blank demeanour and through all of her garbled tongue one thing could be made out.

'Raven..'

~•~
And so we've finished up the first chapter! Yay! This book is being rewritten so many bloody times and shit is just happening like 'bam bam!'
What do you think so far?

Please don't expect regular updates. I will try but I'm extremely lazy and I do have an avalanche of homework waiting for me along with reading.
And also surprisingly I do kinda actually have a social life- nope.. I lied... Just more reading! xD

Look forward to more Munchikins!
MrMumbles
xoxo