Post by Bobbi on May 21, 2019 14:28:50 GMT -5
What did you see?
Nothing. He had seen absolutely nothing that had been left behind.
The voice called him out of the darkness, waking him into a world of even thicker pitch than the one he had left behind. It so deep of a darkness that it could almost be felt if he just reached out his hands and touched it.
Wet.
There was not an infinite amount of space around him, it would seem. The palm of his left hand grazed against something flat, and wet. It was warm, but growing colder by the passing second. Whatever it was, it stank like rotting flesh and hit his senses like a fist thrown at the soft center of his stomach. The darkness didn’t recede, but he could feel where his fingers came away from the wall thickly coated with whatever was running down them. Bringing them back to his nose, he took a sniff and felt that sickness within him tighten down further.
Blood.
Whose? He had no idea. But there was enough of it to coat the wall like paint. There was life within it yet, too. He could feel the heartbeat alongside his very own as the gore ran down his fingers, drips of it catching in their own little rivers of dark red in the darkness against his skin, making their own paths down his forearm. He reached out again and placed his hand against the wall, feeling the flowing blood cover it completely. Both warm and cold.
Dead. Alive. He could feel both within the flowing blood that touched his bare skin. The heartbeat was stronger here, connected to him through that touch like a torch that grew stronger simply because it was held in hand. The more he focused, the more he felt. There was not just one heartbeat, but several. All alive, and all dead.
They need you.
In the void of light around him, he didn’t need to shut his eyes to see nothing. It was there before, beside, behind, and above him. Beneath him, he stood on something cold and hard. It was rock solid, and slippery with the blood that ran down the walls to collect around his feet. Quickly, meter by meter, the blood rose higher until it had covered his boots, his knees, his upper thighs, his stomach, and his chest.
He could not move from the spot, his boots feeling as if they had sunk into the ground beneath them, held in place by the weight of the blood that swirled in and covered them so completely.
Still the blood rose, creeping up over his shoulders, flooding in around his neck, swallowing his chin. Tilting his head back, he took a deep breath to take in air before it reached his mouth. What he inhaled wasn’t air. It was ash so thick that it could have choked him. He didn’t cough it out, or struggle for another breath. He held onto the ash for as long as he could while the red pool crept up and covered his mouth, and filled his nose and ears. He shut his eyes before the crimson bath could reach them, and held on to that ash filled air until his lungs began to ache.
All around him, the heartbeats grew stronger. The dead became easier to pick out and separate from the living. He listened for the living, for the heartbeats that belonged to those still able to give one with the vibrance of life. It was just a few moments, that’s all he had time for. It was all he could manage.
The ash in his lungs was beginning to burn, it was beginning to break him down from the inside. He could no longer hold it. The breath came coughing from him, and the moment he opened his mouth the red pool he had become swallowed up by disappeared. The darkness lightened as he opened his eyes.
The close walls were gone. There was only a vast emptiness as far as he could see all around him, but he wasn’t alone on the ledge. Four bodies lay there where he stood, surrounding him. All in some state of decay. All women. He didn’t need to check their identities to know who they were. Their armor and wrappings were known enough to Solomon by now to recognize them for who they were.
Beneath his feet, the heartbeats still thumped. The rhythmic pattern drawing him toward the edge of the drop-off. The closer he got, the more he felt it. Something was down there. Something familiar and alive. Not something. Someone.
Sol.
Solomon!
Wake up, you little shit. We’ve got work to do.
Nothing. He had seen absolutely nothing that had been left behind.
The voice called him out of the darkness, waking him into a world of even thicker pitch than the one he had left behind. It so deep of a darkness that it could almost be felt if he just reached out his hands and touched it.
Wet.
There was not an infinite amount of space around him, it would seem. The palm of his left hand grazed against something flat, and wet. It was warm, but growing colder by the passing second. Whatever it was, it stank like rotting flesh and hit his senses like a fist thrown at the soft center of his stomach. The darkness didn’t recede, but he could feel where his fingers came away from the wall thickly coated with whatever was running down them. Bringing them back to his nose, he took a sniff and felt that sickness within him tighten down further.
Blood.
Whose? He had no idea. But there was enough of it to coat the wall like paint. There was life within it yet, too. He could feel the heartbeat alongside his very own as the gore ran down his fingers, drips of it catching in their own little rivers of dark red in the darkness against his skin, making their own paths down his forearm. He reached out again and placed his hand against the wall, feeling the flowing blood cover it completely. Both warm and cold.
Dead. Alive. He could feel both within the flowing blood that touched his bare skin. The heartbeat was stronger here, connected to him through that touch like a torch that grew stronger simply because it was held in hand. The more he focused, the more he felt. There was not just one heartbeat, but several. All alive, and all dead.
They need you.
In the void of light around him, he didn’t need to shut his eyes to see nothing. It was there before, beside, behind, and above him. Beneath him, he stood on something cold and hard. It was rock solid, and slippery with the blood that ran down the walls to collect around his feet. Quickly, meter by meter, the blood rose higher until it had covered his boots, his knees, his upper thighs, his stomach, and his chest.
He could not move from the spot, his boots feeling as if they had sunk into the ground beneath them, held in place by the weight of the blood that swirled in and covered them so completely.
Still the blood rose, creeping up over his shoulders, flooding in around his neck, swallowing his chin. Tilting his head back, he took a deep breath to take in air before it reached his mouth. What he inhaled wasn’t air. It was ash so thick that it could have choked him. He didn’t cough it out, or struggle for another breath. He held onto the ash for as long as he could while the red pool crept up and covered his mouth, and filled his nose and ears. He shut his eyes before the crimson bath could reach them, and held on to that ash filled air until his lungs began to ache.
All around him, the heartbeats grew stronger. The dead became easier to pick out and separate from the living. He listened for the living, for the heartbeats that belonged to those still able to give one with the vibrance of life. It was just a few moments, that’s all he had time for. It was all he could manage.
The ash in his lungs was beginning to burn, it was beginning to break him down from the inside. He could no longer hold it. The breath came coughing from him, and the moment he opened his mouth the red pool he had become swallowed up by disappeared. The darkness lightened as he opened his eyes.
The close walls were gone. There was only a vast emptiness as far as he could see all around him, but he wasn’t alone on the ledge. Four bodies lay there where he stood, surrounding him. All in some state of decay. All women. He didn’t need to check their identities to know who they were. Their armor and wrappings were known enough to Solomon by now to recognize them for who they were.
Beneath his feet, the heartbeats still thumped. The rhythmic pattern drawing him toward the edge of the drop-off. The closer he got, the more he felt it. Something was down there. Something familiar and alive. Not something. Someone.
Sol.
Solomon!
Wake up, you little shit. We’ve got work to do.