Unveiled (MLL)

With each mile that he passed with his car his anger turned from fury to a blinding fire to a pitch black pit of chaos. And yet the pitch black chaos was too small a word as further ahead he went, until there he stood in front of ‘Manerium Somniorum’ The manor of dreams. Standing at the gates his anger dissipated to a form of fear and melancholy. Christian knew it like he knew the back of his hand that these emotions were his. Whatever he was feeling was an aftermath of what the manor was listening in on. The walls were screaming the story that unfolded between their bricks as the windows tried to leap open, over powered by the yearning need for some kind of a void. An escape from what unfolded. The gate of the manor seemed barred from reality. Acutely preoccupied by the nightmare. Participating and escaping every word the manor screamed. Time did not exist beyond these gates. No what was left behind was simply the shadow of broken hearts. With each second that passed Christian watched a darkness descend upon the manor as thick mists of clouds and shadows formed. Untouched was the reality outside the gate but inside Manerium Somniorum dreamed. Dreamed of a heartbroken man. Echoed of an unquenchable thirst. Begged for her return. Pulling every reality into it in its desperation, whispering and moaning Christian or anyone that dared to watch to enter. Enter their dream. Dream their love. And bathe in their despair as a symphony lulled Christian into a heavy sleep. With each ticking minute the manor seemed to draw further and further away, without even realizing his eyes had closed and his body was mesmerized by her. By them. It played out again like a song, starting with a verse. A look. A pair of eyes. A shadow. As translucent darkness shone brightly around a man and interlaced with his soul. And there she stood. It was her form and her face and yet her eyes betrayed who she was. A conscious thought metaphored into her existence, standing right there under the soft glow of his lantern. Christian was the prince and the prince was chaos as their fell in love for the first time. As their skin felt the fleeting graze of her smile and their ears heard the soft whisper of her gown tease the ground. There all three souls stood as one falling in love with the same form and yet a different woman. "We were never meant for tomorrow ..." She said with a trembling voice as her hand reached out for his, so close and yet much like their fates all there was between them were dreams.

taipan · 都市

レビュー数が足りません

74 Chs

Chapter 19

Athena opened the book. The voices had ceased now the minute she opened it, she held the first page between her index finger and thumb brushing it from top to bottom feeling the rough texture under her fingertips, contemplating if she should turn the page and read the book. She heard the loud beating of her heart. She was nervous, she simply did not know why.

Finally, after taking in a long breath she turned it over.

Dear soul mate,

Perhaps when you meet me I am nothing like the guy who wrote this letter. It's a moment where I am accepting that I need you. I might not say it, but I need to be saved. I might not show but I am broken.

When you meet me perhaps I am already lost, please be the beacon of light that guides me out of the darkness. I know I am asking for a lot but find that whisper that I buried deep inside of me and resonate the love that it needs.

Allow me in.

~ C

Athena turned over the page already looking forward to reading the book.

It was her laugh.

I was always looking for her laugh, trying to hear it. They say the first thing you forget about a person is their voice, but… how could I?

Her laugh was the feeling of warmth and everything that was good, like a childhood memory of Summer.

But, that was what was taken away from me first. That bloody adorable weird laugh. The sound between a snort and a something just so Summer, replaced with her screams. The sound of her pain. Her voice begging over and over again… begging for them to stop.

So, I guess I wish that I forgot her voice at least that would drown out the screams. Erase the nightmares.

I was happy once with my Summer Day, now I don't know what I am.

I guess it started when I was six, on a breezy autumn morning when my mother asked me to go out to the meadow and play. She was tired of me, but then again she was always tired. No one could blame her for it. She was sick after all. I guess by the time you read this there would be a medical term for it or something but back then there was nothing. All I knew was that I was a six year old boy watching my mother wither away in front of my eyes when Summer came.

There she was in her plaid skirt and twin red ribbons lacing through her thick mass of golden hair chasing her younger sister around the little meadow of her own. Separated by a barbed fence I stood there just looking at her like she was the mirage in my desert…

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