From Death Unto Life

Ch. 1 Helio

Thunder grumbled through the shivering night air, akin to my own mood. I was in debt, the most serious debt. I was kicked from my apartment and had nowhere to go. For most of the day, I wandered the streets before I impulsively got a ride far from the city to the outskirts; the place where no one ventured.

A quick glance back told me my ride was long gone. The sky rumbled, and light flickered across the sky. The clouds' tears fell not long after. I stood there on the dirt road, getting drenched with tears, looking like a fool. London was harsh...My own tears slid down my face. With a sigh, I trudged up the muddy road, not bothering to look where I was going.

It was only when my feet panged with pain that I stopped. When I stopped, I was at the footpath of a giant mansion. It was dark, curtains were drawn, and vines grew all over. My foot lifted, ready to step onto the stone pathway. It paused as a strange feeling enveloped me. For some bizarre reason, I felt like if I went down this path, I would never be able to return to my old life. Not that I minded, being in drowning debt, and all. But... I could never forget all the good times I had, or all the good friends I had made. With a puff of air, I returned to reality, the past gone and my mind made up. I took a step, then another, making my way down the path, getting closer and closer to the mansion.

The mansion seemed to be made of marble and a similar stone, graceful and greek. So beautiful, yet melancholic. The flashes of lightning gave it an eerie aura, but its loneliness was almost tangible. My feet were drawn to the large wooden door. The cracks gave it character, not marring a single feature.

Hesitantly, I reached my hand up to the black knocker. Before I could lift it, the door slowly swung open. I crept inside, looking for company. The only thing that greeted me was the sound of oppressive silence. I shut the door behind me, keeping the chilly air outside. Once again, I let my feet guide me, this time to a library. Dry wood lay in a fireplace and it was easy to light. I sat back on my haunches as the fire sparked and blazed.

This place seemed familiar, but why? I've never been here before...but somehow I knew where to go...

The fire crackled, dragging me from my revere. The shadows seemed to jump out at me, reminding me of what could be hidden in the dark corners. I found a candle and lit it. Using the blazing light, I made my way around the room, lighting every candle I could find. At last, every corner was lit, nothing I couldn't see. I perched myself near the fire, drying my clothes and warming my cold body. Shudders racked my frame, but soon they subsided, the fire's warmth seeping into my bones.

Movement in the corner of my eye brought my head round, but it was only the fire flickering on a candle. My eyes kept scanning the room over and over, over the shelves of books, and to the curtained window. Anxiety was building, as was panic.

A book fell to the floor, making me flinch. I cautiously stood and peered over the couch to see what fell. It was a thick novel, the title unreadable. I bent down and picked it up, flipping it open. I smoothed back my dark curls and turned to the first chapter. It instantly drew my attention, a man who murdered his friend. I slung myself over the couch and read. I kept reading until I could no longer keep my eyes open.

Before I knew it, I had fallen asleep, the book laying open on my chest. "'Can such things be and overcome us like a summer's cloud, without our special wonder? You make me strange even to the disposition that I owe when now I think you can behold such sights and keep the natural ruby of your cheeks...'" (Macbeth 3.4.135-140) The unfinished phrase filtered through my dreams, striking a chord and ringing a bell. An image came, a hazy image. A man, a man with kind, loving eyes, gazed down at me with a quirky grin, a laugh on his breath. It was gone, almost as soon as it came. I snapped awake, jerking myself upright and throwing the book to the floor.

I looked around, remembering why I was here. Debt. Homelessness. I let out a sigh and rubbed my face. Why is everything in my childhood blurry? Why can't I remember where I was or what I did before I came to London? I tousled my hair in frustration.

"'Think of this, good peers, but as a thing of custom. 'Tis no other; Only it spoils the pleasure of the time.'" The same voice from before suddenly seemed to speak. I bolted to my feet.

"I know this voice! But from where? From whom?"

It occurred to me at this moment, that I had never really tried to figure out why I had no memory. Before, I made myself forget in drinking or gaming, the earthly pleasures. Now, I wasn't distracted.

I shook my head, falling back onto the couch. "What a cruel world." Closing my eyes, I focused on my blurry memories.

I breathed in and breathed out, suddenly a bell rang and I was reliving a memory.

A beautiful woman bent down and picked me up. Her arms were warm and gentle, but most of all, safe. She rubbed circles onto my back.

"My precious baby." My... mother? Her long black hair framed her gorgeous golden eyes. The memory suddenly changed. She had aged, but ageing had only made her more beautiful. We were in the library, reading. The door opened, and in walked the man with kind eyes. He grinned his quirky grin.

"Still reading?"

My mother laughed, but I barely looked up. I couldn't bear to, for some reason. My heart was racing and my face was flushed. The memory changed again. I was putting the books back on the shelf when the door opened and closed.

"Was there anything interesting?"

Sharp pain made me open my eyes and massage my forehead. It was no use continuing, I was too tired.