Tombstone ( Completed )

Patience....

Arthit's POV-------

Reality slips and slides around my mind, my synapses firing in fits and bursts. I am sinking into another realm, a place where the physical demands of this body no longer factor into any equation.

But time… that is constant. Almost half of my punishment is served. Today the sun rises around at 6 am, waking the squirrels to their chittering errands. The sunlight warms my prison, and I blink my eyes, imagining that I am only blind, that I am not trapped inside this interminable blackness. My eyelids scrape across my corneas, the agony of movement devoid of lubrication a firm reminder that I am still ME.......

A familiar mind draws near, and I focus with effort. William is here again. He has become The chief of his tribe. I sense his reluctance to step out infront of my prison. He holds a girl by the hand, his firstborn child. He tells her the story of his brother’s murder, outlining the details and stipulations of the pact formed between The y father, The King.... and his father. He dwells on the horror and bloodshed, driving home the threat of the vampires and Royal army.

The girl is young, almost 20 years old, but she nods solemnly in understanding. Her mother has lost two babies after her, so she knows that one day she has to marry the next chief, may one day mother the next generation of their tribe.

Graham has passed away, and William is determined to tell his next generations about ME and my crime, he wanted them to keep guard on me and my prison. He wanted them to be aware of my kind and royal family.

He eyes the Tombstone suspiciously, wondering if I am indeed inside, or if it has all been an elaborate hoax. He sniffs the air, but smells nothing more than dirt, pine sap and moss. Less than an hour after their arrival, the pair departs, disappearing from my diminishing range within moments.

My guilt, even after hearing my crime recounted with such hatred, no longer oppresses me. I am slipping back into the muddle of my fragmenting memories when I hear my name.

A voice speaks directly into my mind, sibilant and haunting, sounding like madness.

"Arthit…" 

I cannot respond, but I listen.

'Who are you ??'

I call back, but my lips do not move.

I heard no reply.....

But my body felt the little vibration.

SINGTO.........

He is here again.........

He is a young boy now.........

I cannot see his face......

Because he is alone and the image in his mind is my TOMBSTONE.

But I can feel his presence, the humm... of that beautiful song in my veins.

He came here because he had a dream......

About a beautiful Boy.....

ME......

He dreamt about ME.....

I can see the images in his mind.

I am there...... Standing under the shining moon....... Someone is coming towards me and.......