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Post by LENA EVE CONLEY on Apr 3, 2013 15:33:03 GMT -5
A scream.
It was the only sound she heard- no wind, no creaking, no footsteps, no breathing. Just a single, twisted, tormented scream. In fact, her hearing was the only sense that seemed to be working. Either it was pitch black around her and she was floating or she just couldn't feel or see a thing. The hairs on the back of her neck stood, her knees grew weak, and the palpitations of her heart drummed loudly in her ears. This scream... It was so familiar. Her brain was working miles per minute trying to match that voice with its rightful face. She must have known it well for her stomach to clench and twist and threaten to force its contents back out into the open.
Suddenly, it was as if she were on an invisible train. Her body shot forward through the cold, stone inlaid hallway. Her head jerked back and she needed to clench her jaw to keep some composure. She watched as the hall became somewhat brighter, taking in the rocks that covered the floor of the hall, the rubble that sat high in dim corners, and the holes as deep as three feet that generously lined the walls. The place looked so familiar, and yet, so foreign to her.
The scream again. This time louder. Closer. More pleading?
Her heart beat heavily against her chest. She was sure it had grown three times its size, for it was restricting her air flow. With every weighted beat, it pounded against her lungs, making it harder to inhale; making her dizzy.
Who was it?
The better question was, did she even want to know?
Again the sensation of being sped through the building overcame her. Clearly she was going to get closer to whatever was causing her extreme discomfort whether she liked it or not. Her feet hadn't touched the ground once. Was this a dream?
She was reaching the end of the dark corridor. There was a light, however faint it was. She was moving faster, the walls and stones and darkness all one big blur around her.
And then she stopped. She saw it. Him. Them.
Her eyes grew wide, her breath came quickly, her throat was dry. Try as she might, she couldn't even shake her head-
Lena slammed the thick book shut in a moment of strong distaste. Honestly how could a school of this calibre be harbouring a book as terrible as this? This was not the kind of book she wanted to spend her free period with. Despite her outward appearance, the rebellious looking woman was actually a professor at the Academy. Today wasn’t one of her better days in terms of ‘following the dress code.’ Any wandering High School students probably thought they were witnessing a tattooed homeless woman taking advantage of the Academic Library. The joke was on them, as they would soon learn in a few years time that Lena held the key to their future English classes. Since most Freshmen ended up gracing her class room, she usually ended up winning over most of their favour, despite her less than professional appearance.
Making her way up to the main counter, book in hand; Lena leaned across the surface of the table with a small pout. ”Literature is dying Fabian,” she moaned. With both elbows planted firmly on the table Lena pushed back her glasses and rested her chin in the palm of her hands. ”It’s bad enough they pushed sparkling vampires, but now I have to compete with middle aged women writing about their fantasy sex lives? I've lived a better life than what that woman dreams up and yet publisher's won't touch me with a ten foot pole.” Granted she hadn't had the most stable of lives to actually sit down and put together a solid manuscript, but that was besides the point. "And I bet you no one respects your Dewey Decimal System anymore," she teased.
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