Splashing in the rain, quick paintings of breath.
Feet bare, thudding on the slick wet stones. One slipped and uttered a cry, their mother turned and grasped their arm, pulling them along.
"Mama w-where are we g-going...?", the young one gasped.
"To get h-help darling. W-We must escape from t-that-", the desperate mother replied between breaths.
From within the walls, torrents of darkness seemed to pour from the limestone barriers. Shadows, of the most horrendous beings. They were after her. Not the woman, but rather the child. They possessed secrets too great.
TO O GR E AT.
The little one slipped again, and scraped their knees. Droplets of blood splattered upon the stone path and hitting their head, fell unconscious. The mother, unable to stop, skidded and whipped around in horror. Her child, soaked and lying on the wet floor. Behind them, the shadows loomed.
PR E Y.
The woman's long hair flew behind her as she flung herself against the darkness yelling a desperate cry.
Her child she promised to him to keep them safe to protect them and now she would yes she would she would fulfill it she needs to one last time-
Hours later, the child awoke.
Looking into a rain puddle, their features took upon a look of horror.
On their cheek, was a vibrant splash of colour.
Crimson red.
Turning about in a frenzy, their eyes settled on the body of a lifeless woman on the wet stones. Long hair spread around her head in a crown, her skin void of any hue. A large pool of blood trickled in between the path.
Slowly, mechanically, the child reached up and touched their stained cheek. Their widened eyes showed they had realized.
They didn't want to believe it.
Hours later, the authorities found the child sitting there, unmoving and unthinking. Their eyes were blank and lifeless, like the woman they found beside them.
They decided to put her out of their misery.
Next day, at the stroke of Twelve, the deed was done.
VOCÊ ESTÁ LENDO
* - DIMENSIONED FATE - *
Ficção Geral'Truth' is her name. Hidden mismatched hues with quiet features. 'Fox' he is called. Cunning as it is, feared and compassionate leader. 'Wish' he was given, patient as luck with an even quicker wit. 'Flower' chosen well, her beauty known with her sh...
