Abyss settled in in her plush new office desk. It's mahogany surface gleamed beneath the dim yellow lights dangling from the iron chandeliers. A thin layer of dust sat atop the pile of books she hadn't touched by the window.
Silence greeted her, the newcomer.
"You're late."
He glanced up, his eyes meeting hers.
Her lip curled in answer to his slight twitch.
"Sit," she commanded. And he did. His hands grasped around the morning's newspaper. The headline read A CITY IN CHAOS AFTER LAST NIGHT'S ACT OF TERROR.
Abyss clicked her tongue lightly. Her eyes glancing over the gathered members.
"Well, I'm glad some of us managed to see this as a priority meeting and made it here on time," her eyes flicked back to Silence. He gulped, loud enough for the entire room to hear.
A red tint crept up the sides of his elongated white neck.
Abyss choked back a snort, focusing back on the others seated before her. She raised an eyebrow, someone was raising their hand.
"Yes...?"
The mousy old woman stood, her eyes looked glassy and strained, "what of the children."
"I'm sorry?" Abyss leaned forward.
"The children. Surely you'll leave the children alone, you won't be attacking any schools."
Abyss laughed under her breath, "clearly you've been misinformed. We, not I, will be doing whatever it takes to gain power. Clearly you do not have that kind of motivation or drive. You may leave."
"But—I—"
"Take her out please."
Two men in long robes strode from the door towards the mousy woman.
"No, no! Please!"
The two men lifted her up by the arms, away from the table. She kicked at them, clawed, screamed. Her screams echoed in the halls as they dragged her away.
"Now." Abyss smiled.
ESTÁS LEYENDO
Abyss
FantasíaWhat do you think the price of war is? War leaves a pit like no other, an abyss deep within a person. But what if that abyss had form? A conscience? A physical reality that can be touched by the damaged, the hurt? What's inside your abyss?
