It begins! Play the video if you wish to hear my narration as you read along (original transcript included below).
For those who would like to read alone, or read along to the narration:
Beneath
a night sky bejeweled with glistening stars creaked an old pier, upon which
rested a damply wooden bench. A halo of
yellow light shone from an old-fashioned lamppost, the luminance tightly
shrouded by the cold twilit fog. Kendra
sat upon the bench, bemusedly watching the young man in the dark suit as he
leaned rather furtively over the rail. Audibly
the waves crashed, harsh and bitter against the stones below.
The moon was an austere pupil, observing
her from the dark void above, stealing through her most personal memories as
freely as the wind. Tonight, her
memories were red, a true compendium of flamingly furious recollections in
which she was the victim. Through uncontrollable
surges of clenched fists, Kendra envisioned those who had wronged her, their
behaviors cruel, their punishments absent.
And she had grown so weary over the years.
To retreat from her daily activities,
especially in times of great frustration, Kendra would spend her nightly hours
on the pier. It was a place she could
often visit in order to be alone, to ruminate peacefully until her red urges
for vengeance dissipated.
“Mind if I sit?”
It was the young man who had been leaning
over the rail. He seemed just as tall up
close, but skinnier, his dark, funereal suit obviously too big for his
shoulders. His hair was a mop of dark
curls, and the whites of his hazel eyes were clouded by dry, red veins. She gathered that he must’ve only recently
been crying. The empathy she felt was
strong enough to make her frustrations vanish.
“No, I don’t mind,” said Kendra.
“Thank you.” He sat quietly, eyes lost in a pensive dream. After a moment of silence he said, “The
funeral was for my sister.”
“I’m sorry for your loss. My condolences.”
“Thanks.”
He buried his face in his hands and then looked over at Kendra, who
nervously looked away. “I’m sorry for
intruding on you,” he said.
“It’s alright.”
The young man seemed to be debating in his
head, finally coming to some conclusion before he reached into his coat and pulled
out what appeared to be a wad of green paper cash. It was thick, and the face on the exposed
bill was of Franklin. He held it out for her. “I’d like you to have this.”
Fright consumed her for several reasons,
and she almost fled. But she was afraid
to move, so she simply asked, “Why?”
“For intruding on you with my troubles.”
“I said it’s alright. I don’t want your money.”
The look on his face became one of
longing. “Please. I insist.”
Kendra looked at the money, still wary. “I’m sorry, but I won’t take your money.”
Defeated, the young man put the money back
into his coat. “Alright. Listen, the reason I wanted--”
“I really have to get going.” Kendra stood, and without looking back,
excused herself towards the unpopulated streets. She looked back only once, but the stranger
did not follow. Part of her felt bad for
him, but most of all, she was relieved.
Relief was too seldom an emotion in Kendra’s experience, always running,
always brooding on her weaknesses. She
hoped that someday she would gain an extraordinary confidence to live a life in
peace, a life in which the pier was no longer necessary.
Then, as if
in response to her longing, the chilled nightly air grew suddenly colder, and
as Kendra turned a familiar corner, she found it to be altogether
unrecognizable. Instead of the parked
cars and wide gutters, instead of the small businesses and trimmed, animalistic
topiaries, Kendra bore witness to an unearthly world of pale, ethereal snow.------------------------------------
Next Part: I. Blood Pact - Part One
For other posts by Keaton G. Wolfe non-related to The Granatium, click here.
You can find me on Twitter @Keatongwolfe
Until next time...
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| Art by Keaton G. Wolfe |
Great reading! I like the character of the narrator, the young man, and Kendra. Nice ending to the prologue ;)
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