Chapter 3: Sense
"123: Communication unsuccessful: Repeat Code. 12--" stops the automated voice. A man wearing dark garments approaches mounted on a white horse-- his face shrouded in darkness by the hood of the garment.
"Throw that device below and state your name and identity." He takes out a weapon and points at Bernard who immediately throws the phone to the side.
"I am Bernard Kohl. I am a chauffer, and an accident just--"
"Enough. Follow me," commands the mysterious man.
--.--.--.--
"You have a letter." He hands out the letter.
"Alright, leave."
"Call us if there's anything wrong."
"Just leave."
--.--.--.--
She awakens. There are many candles adorned about the place, and a few torches are placed on the walls of what seems to be a cave. The air's aroma is that of pure water and incense. Avon coughs, bringing an intense pain to her throat. She touches her neck gently to emolliate and ease the pain. Complete silence. Her skin feels the warmth of the dancing flames. It feels so soft. She passes her hands through her slim arms and body with eyes closed. Her hair appears to be humid, and her sense of smell describes the fragrance of unknown earthly matter.
"Where am I?" The thought finally appears in her mind. She notices that her feet are bare and appears to be wearing her white blouse and the brown shorts that were under her trench coat. She turns to the side and sees darkness from the distance of the light. Avon throws the rags of quilt to the side and lowers to the wet floor, walking carefully to the other side of the area. Her gigantic shadow moves wildly along the humid walls as the small flames conduct its movements. She notices more light coming from above the ladder she reaches. The sounds of dripping water and light sparks of the torches reach her ears as she ascends slowly to the other level.
Her
feet step on the more illuminated ground, and she walks forward
towards the dead end of the wide chamber where many ragged dolls,
pieces of crystal, and other fragments adorn the wall. To the side of
the chamber lies a small round pool with pure crystalline water,
pieces of herbs and other botanicals floating still on it. With her
hands, she pours water to her mouth, quenching her thirst in the most
satisfying way imaginable.
Avon then examines one of the small
worn out dolls with curiosity and then passes her hand trough the
shards of crystals and stone fragments that hang from thin strings
that seem to fade above in the darkness-- the sound is so pleasing to
her ears. Avon moves her hands through more of them, as the ears
demand more sound to be made. She spreads her arms to the sides and
dances in circles, pushing all the stones to all directions as they
cling and crash together, casting more soothing sounds. Avon
continues with her eyes closed as all the fragments begin to form a
wide whirlwind. She finally stops and views the flashes of the stones
as beams of light collide and dance with them. The pleasing sound of
the stones grows in strength, and sounds of ethereal voices seem to
sing along the whirlwind. It comes to sudden stop. The fragments
float still in the humid air, and the smile on Avon's face
disappears completely. The stones descend slowly to their original
position without making any sound. Complete silence.
"What is this place?" she mutters, bringing pain to her throat. An indistinct sound of perhaps a moan is heard in the distance. Avon turns around completely with a worried expression on her face. Then, it becomes clear to her, that the sound of the echo rumbling about the cave is that of shoes-- women's shoes. Then it comes closer: The fine beige trench coat and high heel shoes come walking out from the darkness and into the light. Avon widens her eyes. A tall hairy figure, almost three times the height of Avon, wearing the trench coat and standing taller in the shoes, walks towards her. Avon steps back as the horrid figure approaches her. Its face, hands, and the visible part of its legs are nothing but hair or fur. It approaches still. Avon faints in the hands of fear.
--.--.--.--
"… This is what I ask of you, Ixiv, and it may be one of my last requests. Remember the days of your childhood when we used to hunt. There was a sacred place deep in that very forest, and that was the time when I told you that you would return to meet someone. The path has become more dangerous, but my faith in you is so great. The person must NOT see your face or even a small trace of your skin. That person, too, is more dangerous than the path. Remember my words and actions.
Yours,
--Sir Rolf Vidiris."
"You have got to be kidding me." Manes closes up the letter. I haven't talked to that man in years, he thinks, throwing the letter to the trashcan. He gets off from the bed and goes to the nearby desk containing organized records and other paperwork. He reaches for a turquoise stone of about the size of his palm, places it on a metal object, and closes his eyes. "Callas, can you hear me?"
--.--.--.--
Avon
opens her eyes, and it seems that she still inside the cave. She
rises; soar, looking at the distant exit of the cave and at the fog
beyond it. She stands on the floor and looks about confused. Her
throat feels numb and even inexistent-- she cannot use her voice. She
coughs, but not a sound to be heard from her mouth.
"What is
going on? Is it morning?" She walks towards the exit as she begins
to notice brown stains within the wet floor and undulated walls.
Further she walks, almost arriving to the exit where pale trees begin
to gain visibility. She looks to the side widening her eyes and makes
an attempt to scream. Not a sound to be heard. Avon sees the tall
beast lying dead in the floor. Perhaps the worse sight Avon's eyes
have ever reached. Next to the corpse lies a wooden club with sharp
objects on the side. Avon, for unknown reason, immediately takes
possession of the weapon and runs out of the cave.
She continues running in her bare feet, crushing soft black mud and sticks on the ground. The fog appears to fade into evanescence slowly as faint rays of light beg the gray clouds for dispersion. The sound of birds, nearby insects, and a distant river fulfill the forest's deepness. It appears, however, to contain a sense of unspeakable silence and enigmatic feeling. The surrounding trees make Avon run farther to her undecided destiny. An indistinct voice emerges-- Avon turns her head while running. She crashes into the crude bark of a tree, forcing her to fall to the ground. Consequently, the tree begins to tremble, making Avon drag herself backwards on the muddy ground. Thousands of furious moths come out from the holes of the tree and fly away as they blaze wildly all about Avon's body. Once completely gone, Avon, having felt the worse of disgusts, uncovers her face with tears coming out of her eyes. Ahead comes a red figure out of the evanescent fog. Avon widens her eyes as the fox approaches-- a real burgundy colored fox and not that of orange or brown. The fox reaches Avon's hand and licks it. She rises from the ground slowly with her fine clothing now degraded in mud and dirt, looking at the beautiful fox. An eerie feeling emerges.
...
