Written and Copyright by -DUSK [Grace] -
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Prologue
The night is still, as the dusk storms roll off above in the clearing sky. Clouds begin to quickly evaporate as distant glimmering stars dapple across the sky, and masses below lessen along the streets. The world rests after another scorching day, submersed in the intoxication of the cool night. Every so often a gentle breeze is offered, allowing trees to sigh and rustle with it's caress. Fog clings close to the moist ground, wafting the air with a strong scent of summer rain and damp wood. Street lights flicker and dribble with remaining moisture, hissing at the humidity now choking hold to the air once more. Strangers quickly stride off the roads and into the safety of their repetitive havens, as if they too, can feel the creeping presence of something sinister lurking in the gloom of night. Every house's lights have now been flicked off, the only solace to the suffocating black night is the dim streetlamps that offer a bleak streak of light. There is faint buzzing as moths swarm every streetlamp in a pathetic obscurity to their own reasoning. Finally, fate relieves some as they spiral down toward their impending death. Each house rests next to one another, perfectly placed in a precise patch of green grass and matching driveways. Every house holds the same windows and same shape. Every so often the color of a window shutter is changed, providing some meager attempt to the wretched cobweb of houses. The only interest that would catch one's attention to these unpretentious, insignificant buildings are the different number plastered onto the mailboxes. As night creeps closer, surrounding every house, their shadows dance and tease with the flickering light. They require no invitation, nor are they welcome; they come to infect those daring to walk the streets with an occasional nervous glance and enjoy the sound of their quickening heartbeat.
Beyond the wonder of what may lie past every house wall and the continuing black rivers that connect them, these houses only grow larger and taller. But one in particular appears to strike the most interest to all who surround it, and make the most unwelcome beam of light against the dark night. Lights shine through almost all of it's windows. The building appears to be old by the network of weaving bricks and stones. Spotless, large vehicles rest around the side of this building, all decorated in the same color, and same symbol that seems to soothe the frayed nerves of humans.. as well as shred them. Inside the building , beings in sharp blue scrubs briskly make their rounds, sleep clouding their eyes and hissing into their ears. Some carry mugs and grasp onto them as though the murky brown liquid within were their last desperate plead to keep awake. Others hang around one another and talk in hushed voices, glancing down at some charts. Within their hands hold the future, and very existence of some of the strangers who rest within these walls. Whether their own exhaustion is the cause to it, or the inability to keep a steady face, it is quite easy to tell if the news is good, or bad. Every corridor has the same fruitfulness, and with every breeze an opening door creates carries a pungent scent of antiseptic that burns nostrils. Every room is either closed off or is open and perfectly sterile and stark.. with a crisp bed awaiting the stranger who would significantly spoil it. Some rooms carry brief murmurs, some bring the sound of faint crying.. and others, the sound of distant beeping as monitors record the heartbeat of whomever it is attached to. Loved ones say goodbye to one another for the night, and with forlorn expressions make their way toward the glass doors. The wall of night slams against the glass, as if it desires to seep into the walls and shatter all lights..and glimmers of hope.
In the midst of this silence, a tall man makes his way directly toward the main desk. His attire appears to match those of the ones around him, but is in a long white jacket. He carries a small mug with him and files in his other hand. His pace is casual and comfortable as though he had walked through these corridors many times. He stops abruptly, slamming his files down in his haste which startles the nurse behind the counter. She glances up and fumbles around nervously, surprised by who is standing before her. The man in white bends down and speaks to her in quick, hushed voice. He finishes his request off, his voice rougher around the edges as he straightens up. The nurse nods quickly and grabs something behind the desk and beckons for the man to follow. They both stand beside a door and the man turns, offering the nurse a luxurious smile and takes the key from her. She nods once more and makes her way off quickly just as he slips the key into the lock and disappears behind the door. Now, the mans whole demeanor has flipped. His walk is short and brisk, and his whole body is tense. He turns, and locks in a code, shutting down the security camera in the nearby hall. He quickly makes his way down the warm room, scanning the small little beds with a slightly curious expression. He comes to a quick halt and fixates his eyes upon one of the beds. He stumbles toward it, his eyes wide and steps transfixed toward the bed. A small, rosy infant rests within the bed, curled behind her soft pink cotton sheets. Her face is perfectly round, and her fingers are small and irresistibly soft. Her bottom lip hangs open and she breathes deeply.. lulled with her own beautiful sleep. Her hair is a soft little fuzz on her head, a deep red, hinting toward some brown. The child is beautiful, parallel to those who would pray for innocence, perfection even. The man snatches the young infant's charts, glancing briefly at them before stuffing them into his pockets, crumbling them as though it were mere burning paper and not a small child's identification. He glances toward the door and then creeps closer to the child, sweat dappling on his forehead in his complete fixation onto the infant. In a quick movement he scoops her from the warmth of her bed and tucks her into his large arms, making sure she doesn't stir. He stares down at the young baby with a malevolent smile as though nothing mattered more than the newly breathing being as she innocently slept. With one last glance down toward her the man tucked her further behind his jacket and slipped out of the building as swiftly as he had entered – just as silent as his heinous, unknown crime.
From that moment on, the beautiful infant was not known as a child, human, or even her name. She was not associated with emotions, feelings or what life could offer her. No, as soon as they walked off and the undesirable chill of night managed to crawl across her soft, fragile skin..corrupting her innocence.. she was already inevitable to be..
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Last edited by - Dusk [Grace] - on Fri Jul 29, 2011 8:37 pm; edited 1 time in total
