Post by MadoraDeSkalia on Feb 23, 2005 1:54:23 GMT -5
An empty table stood out like an old friend across the room. Two old yet sturdy chairs, and an old oil lamp shining with a dim light through dirty sooty glass. It was by a window, but it was covered by a heavy black drape, providing a bit of darkness. Madora walked over to it silently, and pulled the chair out with a scrape. She sat, resting her weary bones for a moment. One of the waitresses came over. She was greasy and tired from working all night. Madora smiled radiantly, “I would like a glass of red wine please.” The waitress grunted a response and left. A glint of silver appeared in Madora’s left hand; the pocket knife that ever stayed with her at all times. It’s blade snapped open. . .There was an odd fascination with it. It reflected death seconds before it came, and sometimes life.
The blade pressed into the tender flesh in the pad of her thumb, readily parting the skin, spilling crimson ichor from underneath.
The swoon came, ecstasy with the pain, the truth set free from the bonds of her veins. . .
Bright stained steel was now placed upon her index finger, repeating the same dance it did with her thumb.
A light sheen of sweat came over her upper lip and forehead. It was always the same, like the afterglow of ungodly sex with your best lover, or tasting chocolate for the first time. Madora licked her trembling upper lip and calmed herself, before she was lost in the moment. No. . .she has work to do. The two bleeding fingers were placed upon the wooden table, and her wrist swiveled about, leaving a circle in ruddy blood. Madora’s blood soaked itself into the wood. . .Then gave a large pulse like heartbeat before it began to glow. Crimson cracks stood out and evolved creating a map of the area she had traveled. . .She still had so far to go. . .And so little time. With a wipe of hand it was gone. The swoon had given to the familiar pain, but for now, Madora knew where she was headed
The blade pressed into the tender flesh in the pad of her thumb, readily parting the skin, spilling crimson ichor from underneath.
The swoon came, ecstasy with the pain, the truth set free from the bonds of her veins. . .
Bright stained steel was now placed upon her index finger, repeating the same dance it did with her thumb.
A light sheen of sweat came over her upper lip and forehead. It was always the same, like the afterglow of ungodly sex with your best lover, or tasting chocolate for the first time. Madora licked her trembling upper lip and calmed herself, before she was lost in the moment. No. . .she has work to do. The two bleeding fingers were placed upon the wooden table, and her wrist swiveled about, leaving a circle in ruddy blood. Madora’s blood soaked itself into the wood. . .Then gave a large pulse like heartbeat before it began to glow. Crimson cracks stood out and evolved creating a map of the area she had traveled. . .She still had so far to go. . .And so little time. With a wipe of hand it was gone. The swoon had given to the familiar pain, but for now, Madora knew where she was headed
