Telekinetic: IDENTITY (COMPLETE)

Anonymous III

Anonymous III

Creaking, the wrecked warehouse door slid back to its initial position as he stepped into his abode. The echoes his sleek black boots gave off as they came into contact with the dusty concrete floor with every step he took were all that rocked his eardrums here. All that he hoped would at least.

He dragged himself to the third corner, where a dim bulb sinisterly laid its light over the tattered sofa he thought he possessed.

He leisurely took a seat; a sneer was all that remains visible from below his hood.

Eyes closed, he thought… Why had he bothered?

The cattle were herding themselves.

He felt it. He’d already felt their power grow. He knew they must’ve found another.

A strong sense of satisfaction and comfort was all he consciously ascertained for a few seconds, that is, until he let loose his neck length black silky hair and firmly grasped his mother’s hair band in his palm.

A series of memories began to gush into his mind. The night she sang him a lullaby in bed; her voice as mesmerizing and charming as that of the Siren’s, and her touch as consoling and affectionate as no other. She knew how special he is, and she tried to protect him.

He remembered it was that night the intruders broke into his residence and snatched him away from her –the day they were captured. Her never ending screams, as though reflecting off of parallel mirrors, haunted him as it repeatedly rang in his ears.

He couldn’t reach her. There wasn’t a way he could save her. Little did he know the last time he would set eyes on his mother was as she desperately gasped and struggled for air, miles below him, the waves ferociously thrashing at her attempting to engulf her into the dark gloomy depths.

Rage began to burn within him as he recalled the inhuman laughter of his captors, and the cold horrifying sentiment he’d felt while nothing more than a mere child.

 He brought to mind the electrical cage he was kept in the following morning to ensure his stay was imminent.

Fists clenched and furious, he leaped off his seat and forced himself out of this trance vigorously shaking his head until he abruptly stopped when a feminine high pitched, chilly and silvery voice came from his left.

“Not something I’d expect seeing you do, definitely not after what I’ve already told you before your departure.”

Followed by a heavy sigh and a rub of his forehead, he turned to face her. In a long flowing white dress, she approached him. Her eyes were of a crystalline blue, partially blocked by silvery strands of hair. No sane man would have been able to tell she had witnessed a sum of seventeen springs. He told her in his hoarse cold tone, “Why haven’t you left? I am not interested in hearing any more of your curses.”

“You were not to succeed as I have foreseen. All I utter is truth. You will soon relief your troubled soul.”