Reads: 1584  | Likes: 8  | Shelves: 7  | Comments: 16

More Details
Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Thrillers  |  House: Biblically Dark

Chapter 2 (v.2) - Chapter Two

Submitted: June 30, 2018

Reads: 125

Comments: 4

A A A | A A A

Submitted: June 30, 2018





"Puella mortua est."

Her eyes opened to what - at first glance - appeared to be nothing. There was only white. The absence of color stretched on forever in blinding brightness. 

She took a curious step forward, testing the hard ground beneath her feet. Reaching out her hand, her fingers brushed gently against the warm, smooth surface of what turned out to be a perfect, unflawed wall. 

"Et non natus ramen." The faceless voices echoed around her. They seemed to come from every direction. "Et adhuc tristis nunc."

She kept her hand on the wall and took another step forward. Her skin glided fluently against the surface as she continued to walk forward. Several paces in one direction lead her to a blockage which was discerned as a second wall. It formed a seamless corner with the one adjacent to it. She turned left and walked along the second wall until she came to a third. This third lead to a fourth. She walked the entire perimeter of all four walls before concluding they formed a room. 

"Parentes enim illius, dilexit eam valde."

"Hello?" Her voice was high-pitched, and it echoed around her. 

There was no answer. 

"Hello?!" This time she was louder. The word was repeated back to her a million times, as if the room was mocking her cries. 

Suddenly, a vertical crack began to appear in the middle of the wall farthest from her. She watched it grow thicker until it formed a doorway that framed the silhouette of a tall, slim man. Unlike regular silhouettes, his was white and gave off a bright glow that made the room around her appear gray. This man extended his hand to her and spoke the single word, "Come." 

She stepped forward obediently. Reaching out her hand to his, she realized how small she was. Her head came just above his waist and she could manage to wrap all her fingers around only one of his. She could not be older than five. 

"Who are you?" she asked, looking up at the man's face which could not quite be made out. They were walking down a long corridor that matched the color of the room she had just left. 

"I have many names. You may call me what you wish." 

She turned forward, biting her lip nervously before asking her next question. "Who am I?"

His unseen face turned to look down at her. "That is up for you to decide."

They stopped walking after reaching the end of the corridor. It featured a large set of double doors. With his free hand, he pushed the left door open and guided her through. Outside the bland walls of the block like structure, she was hit with an overwhelming sight of vibrant colors. Through her shock, she was just able to make out a playground painted in primary colors and surrounded by thin grains of tan sand. Several children all her age were running around the structure, but they stopped when she and the man walked out. 

Like a stampede, they all converged on the two of them. Their small arms wrapped fondly around the man's legs and they looked up to his bright face calling him everything from "Papa" to "Yahweh" to "Aba."

Looking on, she didn't notice one small boy with soft brown hair and hazel eyes break away from the group until he was standing right in front of her. 

"What's your name?" he asked, grinning at her through tiny gapped teeth. The question was friendly and inviting; but she could not answer. She did not have a name. She looked up at the man expectantly. He had heard the question as well and was now studying her. It was as if he were looking past her and into the innermost part of her soul. 

Finally he answered. "Amare," he smiled, "I think we should call her Amare." 



Her eyes snapped open. A dark gray ceiling stared back at her. It was covered in a spider web of cracks and had several chunks of cement missing from it: the complete opposite of the setting in her memory. She scowled. What a stupid name from a stupid man. 



© Copyright 2019 P.J. Bomre. All rights reserved.


Add Your Comments: