Nightmares
Lazarus awoke with a start, flying into an upright position, hands on either side of him to shakily support his weight. Those crimson, blood like optics were wide and filled with shock, as if he?d just seen something that completely flipped his word upside down.
A cold sweat had his simple black shirt clinging to his torso as his chest heaved up and down with the struggle of steadying his ragged, uneven breath. Slowly, Lazarus? body stopped shaking, and he shifted into a more comfortable seated position, dropping his face into his hands, to run them up and through his hear as he heaved out a sigh.
What was that? That scream, that bloodied image of defiled purity? A dream- no, a nightmare. He shook his head faintly, Lazarus Lovelock, did not have nightmares. Never, had a nightmare visited him in his unnaturally long life, he just simply had no fears. But whatever that was, it terrified him, struck him to his very core.
Looking across the room at the small mirror that rested atop his cheap dresser, Lazarus met his reflection, stared those sinful crimson eyes down with a sneer of contempt. Lazarus didn?t have fears, Lazarus didn?t have nightmares.
Shifting, he lay back down, settled his head back onto his pillow, and closed his eyes. She screamed again and they jerked open. He found himself staring up, but not at the ceiling, rather, at the image that burned into his mind.
A woman, she was small, fragile, and broken. Pure, lily white skin was covered in the faded brown taint of dried blood, hair matted to her head, that slight, always thin body seemed at the breaking point, starved, wounded. Who could have done this to so pure a creature? Then he saw them, soulful, dark eyes, feathery, white wings. His heart jumped, and for the life of him, Lazarus couldn?t tell why.
Who was she? Why did he dream of her so? Then he felt it, felt that tell tale tug that had first drawn him away from his Hellish plane of existence. It was her, it was the reason he?d abandoned his previous life.
She was here, somewhere. He was closer than ever.
Lazarus awoke with a start, flying into an upright position, hands on either side of him to shakily support his weight. Those crimson, blood like optics were wide and filled with shock, as if he?d just seen something that completely flipped his word upside down.
A cold sweat had his simple black shirt clinging to his torso as his chest heaved up and down with the struggle of steadying his ragged, uneven breath. Slowly, Lazarus? body stopped shaking, and he shifted into a more comfortable seated position, dropping his face into his hands, to run them up and through his hear as he heaved out a sigh.
What was that? That scream, that bloodied image of defiled purity? A dream- no, a nightmare. He shook his head faintly, Lazarus Lovelock, did not have nightmares. Never, had a nightmare visited him in his unnaturally long life, he just simply had no fears. But whatever that was, it terrified him, struck him to his very core.
Looking across the room at the small mirror that rested atop his cheap dresser, Lazarus met his reflection, stared those sinful crimson eyes down with a sneer of contempt. Lazarus didn?t have fears, Lazarus didn?t have nightmares.
Shifting, he lay back down, settled his head back onto his pillow, and closed his eyes. She screamed again and they jerked open. He found himself staring up, but not at the ceiling, rather, at the image that burned into his mind.
A woman, she was small, fragile, and broken. Pure, lily white skin was covered in the faded brown taint of dried blood, hair matted to her head, that slight, always thin body seemed at the breaking point, starved, wounded. Who could have done this to so pure a creature? Then he saw them, soulful, dark eyes, feathery, white wings. His heart jumped, and for the life of him, Lazarus couldn?t tell why.
Who was she? Why did he dream of her so? Then he felt it, felt that tell tale tug that had first drawn him away from his Hellish plane of existence. It was her, it was the reason he?d abandoned his previous life.
She was here, somewhere. He was closer than ever.