An evaluation of my time has left me with only 1 hour to write. And looking at my schedule, this looks like a realistic goal. 2 hours of writing a night is now being replaced by 1 hour. At least I am still writing...
(p.s. I am still not satisfied with Blogspot's editing tools)
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-Dietrick heard the robed woman's words but they seemed so distant, as if whispered from the bottom of a well. He thought to what has brought him to this place. What was he doing in this place? He recalled finding himself in a tunnel with no noticeable entrance nor exit. He had felt a cool breeze and elected to travel towards it, in the hopes of finding the surface. What he found was not at all what he had expected. Or had he? What was he doing in this place. Why couldn't he recall entering the tunnel?
-He noticed that his eyes were darting all around the cavern, searching for some clue to his whereabouts. Not able to recall where he was going nor where he had been, his eyes settled on those of the woman.
-Her eyes where squinted slightly, studying his.
-"You really have no idea, do you?" She began, "I can see now, why that may be. You are not complete. You are missing half of your soul. As the ferryman, I can take you across to your final destination, but I must ask that you pay the toll."
-She stepped from the boat and onto the black beach. Taking his hand and loping it around her waist, she moved ever closer to his ear.
-She purred into his eye, "Are you prepared to leave all your worldly possessions behind?"
-Deitrick found her words intoxicating as pulled at every fiber of his being. As if drawn by the siren's song he began to approach the boat. He reached up to steady his climb onto it when he felt himself held back. Looking back, he saw that the woman did not follow, but still held his hand.
-"Not so fast, my dear. Even though your soul desires it, which would be enough under normal circumstances, my master made me promise to get your verbal consent before doing so."
-Dietrick, unsure of what he was doing, felt that this is what he wanted. He searched for the means to speak his desire. He attempted to draw in a breathe to begin but panicked as no air filled his lungs. Panic took hold and flailed about, frantically. He felt pressure around his hand and looked to the cause.
-With the torch pole stuck in the sand, the woman was grasping his hand in both of hers.
-"Calm yourself!" She commanded him and the words, like before, manipulated his soul to do their bidding. "Focus your thoughts and 'speak your mind'. Do you wish to cross over?"
-A slight smile and tilt to her head and he found himself wanting to do whatever she wanted. He wished to please her and could not explain why. He did as she obeyed and focused his thoughts and memories. Flashes of memory crossed his minds eye. Memories of events, emotions, and people flooded his thoughts, but none lasted long enough to gather any incite from.
-He figured that every word that he composed would bring him closer to realisation, so he began forming the most remedial of sentences.
-"I am Dietrick Devos." He thought to her, with much hesitation. A nod from her reassured him that his juvenile attempt had met with success. "What is your name?" He inquired.
-"I am Karen, the ferryman."-He noticed that his eyes were darting all around the cavern, searching for some clue to his whereabouts. Not able to recall where he was going nor where he had been, his eyes settled on those of the woman.
-Her eyes where squinted slightly, studying his.
-"You really have no idea, do you?" She began, "I can see now, why that may be. You are not complete. You are missing half of your soul. As the ferryman, I can take you across to your final destination, but I must ask that you pay the toll."
-She stepped from the boat and onto the black beach. Taking his hand and loping it around her waist, she moved ever closer to his ear.
-She purred into his eye, "Are you prepared to leave all your worldly possessions behind?"
-Deitrick found her words intoxicating as pulled at every fiber of his being. As if drawn by the siren's song he began to approach the boat. He reached up to steady his climb onto it when he felt himself held back. Looking back, he saw that the woman did not follow, but still held his hand.
-"Not so fast, my dear. Even though your soul desires it, which would be enough under normal circumstances, my master made me promise to get your verbal consent before doing so."
-Dietrick, unsure of what he was doing, felt that this is what he wanted. He searched for the means to speak his desire. He attempted to draw in a breathe to begin but panicked as no air filled his lungs. Panic took hold and flailed about, frantically. He felt pressure around his hand and looked to the cause.
-With the torch pole stuck in the sand, the woman was grasping his hand in both of hers.
-"Calm yourself!" She commanded him and the words, like before, manipulated his soul to do their bidding. "Focus your thoughts and 'speak your mind'. Do you wish to cross over?"
-A slight smile and tilt to her head and he found himself wanting to do whatever she wanted. He wished to please her and could not explain why. He did as she obeyed and focused his thoughts and memories. Flashes of memory crossed his minds eye. Memories of events, emotions, and people flooded his thoughts, but none lasted long enough to gather any incite from.
-He figured that every word that he composed would bring him closer to realisation, so he began forming the most remedial of sentences.
-"I am Dietrick Devos." He thought to her, with much hesitation. A nod from her reassured him that his juvenile attempt had met with success. "What is your name?" He inquired.
-Her name, like a lit fuse, began to burn at his mind. He knew that name from somewhere. And with that realisation, he recalled seeing her face before. His eyes grew wide as the mental fuse detonated the mental explosives embedded in his mental walls. He jerked his hand from hers and pointed at her accusingly.
-"You're Karen, or Charon. The stalwart, the stubborn, and the charismatic. First to fight Death's will and reason with it. First of Death's lovers. And first Angel of Death!" Dietrick exclaimed. He noticed that he was shaking uncontrollably and dropped his hand. "What are you doing here?"
