A lost young woman in need of her companion walked down the isle of a dark, unholy chapel. It was only lit by mystic blue flames. She steadied herself upon cracked and damaged tiles. It's Impossible to imagine what could've taken place in a place like this. Her mind wandered, but quickly ventured back. Much like a small child staying close to their mother in unfamiliar places. Her attention was caught, by one candle, brighter than the rest. Mesmorizingly, it shone so deep into her eyes. For a moment she spaced, and lost her conscious mind, until the sound of a blood-curdling scream brought her to her senses. She knew that voice. The voice of her companion was unmistakable, it had to be him.
Her eyes darted around the room until they laid upon him. There he was. He was covered in bruises, ones that were barely visible in the darkened chapel. Briars rip into his roughened jeans and bare chest skin. The pain is so unbearable he can barely speak, can't breathe, but can only let out a hopeless whisper. "H-help" he softly mumbles. Soon she finds out she's just as helpless as he is. But instead of briars she's being wrapped in soft and strong vines of Jasmine and ivy. The hot white blossoms seemed to be made out of a strange, chilly Aura. The flowers started to draw warmth from her skin, blood, and soon every organ from her body. Her body lost heat at a dangerous rate, and her eyes lulled themselves into a cold induced slumber.
She woke up from that strange dream to discover the furnace had gone out again. She pulled up the covers and her spare blanket in a mostly hopeless attempt to get back to sleep that night.
YOU ARE READING
Sock's Short Knitted Tales
Short StoryI'll knit you a few little yarns. So stay awhile, and take a seat near the fire. Some tales may bring comfort, some understanding, the others a chill up your spine. Either way I hope you appreciate the variety of tales.
