Information
Translator_466 has a minion!
Zipporah the Halo
Zipporah the Halo
Translator_466
Legacy Name: Translator_466
The
Reborn KeetoOwner:
NicholasAge: 16 years, 10 months
Born: July 6th, 2007
Adopted: 16 years, 10 months ago (Legacy)
Adopted: July 6th, 2007 (Legacy)
Statistics
- Level: 345
- Strength: 863
- Defense: 862
- Speed: 736
- Health: 862
- HP: 862/862
- Intelligence: 133
- Books Read: 130
- Food Eaten: 0
- Job: Lead Librarian
A narrator.
He's been cursed with seeing all that occurs with this world. Retelling the stories of other's lives, but unable to live one of his own. Here before the rain fell and the wind blew, will he continue to live in darkness if the world crumbles?
The moss of the cave reflected the sunlight against the walls, creating a luminescent, green glow. The enormous butterflies, resting throughout the cave, stayed still, their unmoving wings almost invisible as the light shone through their clear and gelatinous-like figures. Water from the constant showering of rain dripped across the various stalactites that formed across the ceiling. Each drop fell into its own tiny, water-filled crater upon the floor with the sound immediately silenced from the humid air, instead reverberating within the puddle's body. And the whole cave was silent, as if frozen, with time stopped in its flowing tracks by the clogging of the cave rocks at the entrance.
"How much farther do you plan on going, Ryan" Alana moaned. "The sun is setting and we probably just passed the last suitable rest stop for the next five miles."
Alana was a slender figure, with a jet black pixie cut and ebony skin. She was wearing khaki cargo pants, with a few of the pockets containing various tools, a battered and dirt covered white tank, and black combat boots.
Her partner, Ryan, was a perfect match for her, in the sense that he appeared to be an exact opposite. Ryan stood about a foot above Alana and he minimized her with his broad shoulders and muscular frame. His light skin looked a pale white in comparison to her, and his hair was a short, auburn-colored mess. He wore a tight-fitting black shirt, a pair of loose khaki shorts, and a pair of dark brown, steel-toed boots.
The pair had been together for a few weeks now, searching through a dense rain forest that was previously unknown until a short while ago. Both Alana and Ryan were sent on behalf of a Scientific Investigation Agency to collect a census of the creatures present. Alana was the information for their trip, knowing the plants to avoid, the one not yet discovered, and everything in between. Ryan earned his job with his artistic abilities and his inhuman nature to notice every detail.
Both had yet to encounter any type of creature, but they heard the sound of rustling leaves all too often for them to not be concerned. They had started exploring early that day, before the sun had risen, and they had only stopped once to relieve themselves and eat a few berries that Alana had found to be edible. Each had multiple scrapes and punctures dotted along their bodies.
Despite Alana's pleas, Ryan urged her forward, insisting that they were on the brink of discovering a whole new world. The humid, salty air stung Alana's eyes even more as sweat dripped down her forehead. And the unsettling shroud of silence only caused more fright in Alana as she continued to hear her beating heart. However, just as Alana's legs were about to collapse, Ryan held his arm out, signaling an abrupt stop.
"Do you smell that?" Ryan asked, sticking his nose out and sniffing the air.
"No," Alana replied "Is it an animal?"
Instead of answering Alana's question, Ryan took her hand and slowly walked her in a different direction. They noticed that they were approaching something because what had been a strange, unmoving air, suddenly turned into a gust of wind that blew Alana's hair into her eyes. The more they walked the windier it began to become; eventually they had to brace their bodies against it to keep themselves from toppling over.
That was when it stopped. Everything stood motionless once more and the struggling ceased. And there stood a cave in front of them; a cave emitting a beautiful green glow. However, the glow was not fully connected as rocks and boulders were blocking the entrance, creating the glowing cracks that almost seemed to resemble a coiled serpent.
Alana ignored the unnatural light and ran towards the cave, escaping Ryan's grip from her arm. She grabbed a random rock from the wall and, with little effort, the whole entrance block collapsed, revealing a seemingly empty cavern.
Alana's eyes widened at the wondrous sight, the whites of her eyes a green color as they reflected the light. Her nose began to twitch as the once salty air now smelled of a sweet scent that invaded her nostrils and stung her tongue. She was further pleased as the cold sweat attached to her body seemed to have disappeared, leaving behind an almost relaxing feel to the skin.
Ryan was behind Alana the whole time, smelling what she was smelling, and feeling what she was feeling. But he began to walk past her, past the stalactites and past the pools of water along the floor.
Alana was relatively stationary, only moving a few steps closer to the wall. Her face was now immobile, with a grin plastered onto it because held in her line of gaze was the sight of countless butterflies. Huge, voluminous wings attached to small bodies, and everyone of them fit perfectly together, with not a single area of the wall left vulnerable and without any overlapping of the wings. Alana took out her unused sketch book and began to draw them.
After a few minutes Alana had drawn a rough sketch of an individual butterfly and a sketch of the entire view. But she wanted to obtain further details, so she reached her hand forward to try and get a creature to reveal its underside. She gently pressed her finger against a wing, jumping back as a rush of coldness bolted through her body.
Instead of flying away the butterfly merely flapped its wings, released a small whirlwind of particles. Alana approached it again, but this time her hand couldn't seem to stop quivering. The closer she tried to get the more violently she began to shake, sweat flooding her body. Her breathing became short and raspy, until she started gargling. Drowning in her own fluids, she fell to the cold floor, watching the walls around her morph and turn themselves into cold stone. Her body was now covered in butterflies, each one draining her body of water and plasma with their elongated tongues.
Ryan continued on through the cave, now enveloped in a darkness. The longer he walked the more uneasy Ryan began to get. His steps were slower and set down with much more care. His breathing seemed horrendously loud, and was only matched by the sound of his heartbeat. Too scared to move forward, but sensing he was too far to go back, he stopped, paralyzed.
The midst of the cave began to light up, the glowing walls a blurry mess. Ryan's eyes began to gain more focus, the glow now defined in certain shapes. On the floor and upon the walls Ryan saw hieroglyphic images drawn, each one connected by the strands of green lines. All around was the glowing walls; the pathway to this place was no longer visible and, in the center of the room, only a few feet away from Ryan, was a pool of mist.
"I-I can see." Ryan stutters out, "Alana! I can see! I can see!"
Ryan looked around the room. Alana was nowhere to be found. He was quick to panic and quickly ran to where he thought he had entered from. Slamming his fists into the wall to the rhythm of his pounding heart, Ryan noticed his flesh bleeding. Ignoring it, however, he continued to bang against the wall, desperate to attain the attention of anyone who could help him.
Now kicking against the door, he heard the sound of clanging boots change to the sound of a bare foot thumping against the wall. Looking back at his hand, Ryan saw blood dripping down his hand, but it disappeared as it ran down his arm. Instead, he saw it flowing against the walls, with strings of blood wriggling through the pulsating flow. Tragically slow, he watched his body disintegrate. His flesh and blood liquidating and his bones ground into dust.
Ryan's remains lie upon the floor of a collapsed cave. The once green hue of the forest now a malicious scarlet red. And the sky above began to rain bloodied water.
♥♥♥♥♥
The rain violently pounded against the window pane, the wind shaking the foundation of the house. Everything seemed to be unsettlingly loud, even the light outside roared a mighty warning to anyone within miles of itself. The interior of the house was nearly pitch black, with an exception every few seconds at the flash of lightning.
Her hand twisted the dial of the small radio left and right, trying to hear a sound other than that of static. The entire house was filled with white noise and darkness until the screen of the television went bright. It was still a mess of black and white blur, but it gave the house enough light to visibly see the woman who was focused on her radio.
Her hair was a long, brown mess, reaching her lower back. Her body was a thick shape, having small amounts of extra weight throughout it. The clothes she wore were dingy and torn, with her dark blue jeans showing patches of her skin through their worn holes and her muddy, shredded shirt. Her calming green eyes contrasted the wrinkles of experience upon her stern face.After countless turns of the knob the woman finally gave up, hitting the machine with the palm of her hand. Instead, she turned her attention to the withering storm, peering out of a dirty, cracked window. She just stood there watching, witnessing lumber and blood float in the air, in an almost graceful dance, until it all collided against the wall of her house. Rushing for safety, she ran behind the table that held the radio, but not before the bursting window shards grazed her skin, causing her clothes to become even dirtier with blood.
She sat there shaking, in the center of a rubble heap, the wind blowing dust around her body. Her eyes shifted from left to right, scanning the area of all the destruction. Towards the right she saw a man walking towards her. His skin was pale and his hair was a short, mop-like grey bundle with speckled of black. He walked with a polished wooden cane, hunched over like a creature of the night in the black cloth that draped over his body.
“Follow!†the man shouted, “How many times have I told you to hide when the storms come? We can’t have any more injuries within our family, you know that. And besides, there’s nothing to see when they come except water and wind. Now get up and meet me at the well, we have something to discuss.â€
The man turned around and walked away, wading through the rubble. Follow picked herself up off the ground and patted her clothed, the dust coming off from her entering her lungs, causing her to cough out the dry powder. Her legs were unsteady as she walked, stumbling to get outside.
The sky was crimson, with its clouds enveloping all visible openness. Smooth waves of the darkened sea lapped at Follow’s feet as she walked across the narrow strip of land that led towards her village’s center.
Upon arriving, she was greeted by a block of people, gathered around a chipped and worn out stone well, facing what seemed to be a hastily made wooden platform. Standing upon the platform was the man she had spoken with earlier.
With a storming voice that seemed impossibly loud and deep for his size, the wrinkled man upon the platform began to speak towards the crowd, quickly quieting their rumble of chatter and halting their various movements. Everyone had averted all of their attention towards the stage, most wondering why they were gathered about after such a routine storm.
“Hello, fellow men, women, and children that are gathered around me right now,†the man shouted, “I have called you all here with intent of informing you of some fairly hideous news. Despite this recent storm’s nearly perfect passing, the Elders and I have discovered more information about our world’s state.
‘Based on the logs kept throughout the years, we’ve discovered a steady pattern with this rain and have concluded that the water from the sky is not being recycled, but rather created every time. Now, this has yet to prove any negative effects on the potency of our atmospheric shield, however, it does prove to be quite a problem for us personally.
‘You see, we’ve all be here for long for one reason; our village is near a cliff that’s been holding the water back for years. But this cliff has disappeared and its rough edges have become the sand of a beach. And, based on our estimate, we have about a month until the water starts to flood this area past recognition. This is why I’ve come to tell you all that I, and the Elders, have planned an evacuation two weeks from now and I ask that all of you be prepared by then and join us. We will meet here again an hour after dawn.‘I now conclude this meeting and ask that you all go home and rest, as we all appear to need some.â€
The old man hobbled backwards and to his left, off the stage, as the dense group of people dispersed into the rest of the village, leaving only Follow, himself, and a lone boy peering down the well. After having looked around, Follow walked towards the man, making sure to catch him alone.
“Malachi,†she whispered, clutching his right wrist, “I know you’re hiding something and I want to know what it is. I’ll be waiting in your house at dusk.â€
Malachi looked at Follow and realized that she knew him too well to believe any lie. She knew everyone so well that lies always seemed to reveal themselves.
***
The gentle rain slid down the spongy, damp wood of the small, single room log cabin, the crimson moonlight reflecting against every droplet, creating a scarlet tinted hue amongst every wet thing. Within the cabin a small wax candle burned, flickering light against dark blue curtains, creating dancing, purple shadows against the walls. The candle rested on a simple, circular wooden table in the center of the room, which was surrounded by four hard, wooden chairs. Along the right corner farthest away from the entrance lied a bed, parallel to a fairly large metal pot placed against the opposite wall in the lower right corner of the window. The only other visible object was a large, but poorly crafted, truck at the foot of the bed. Its wooden panels were askew and the metal lock sealing it was beaten and chipped.
Follow sat in the chair facing the entrance of the cabin, waiting for Malachi to make his appearance. The candle had been burning for well over an hour, the body of the waxy figure now in a pile of deformed, hardening, white lava. Follow directed her attention towards it, staring at the unsteady flame, relating it to the dependability of Malachi.
As the flame began to die out, the door to the room quietly started to creak as it moved outward, revealing the frail and shaking figure of Malachi. He hurriedly walked in after opening the door, holding his hand up to Follow’s face, signaling her to refrain from talking. Stumbling towards his bed, the can in Malachi’s hand wobbled every time weight was placed on it. Follow continued to sit with her confused gaze as Malachi began to spin his cane, causing the wood to separate, revealing a small key embedded upon the longer and straight end of the cane.
With the key, Malachi stabbed a hole into the woven cloth of his mattress and Follow gasped as the sound of tearing threads boomed within the silent room. He continued ripping apart the cloth until his mattress had been thrown to the floor in pieces, with blotches of stuffing decorating the ground as well. Setting his cane against the wall, he searched through the soft destruction until his left had hit a hard object, quickly snatching it and placing it in his pocket. After, he walked towards the pot with his can and lifted it up by placing the polished wood under the handle. Finally, he stepped in front of the trunk and, with another look at Follow, twisted the key inside the lock latched in front of the trunk.
With a swift movement, Malachi had opened the lid of the trunk and was gone. Follow slowly rose from her chair and crept over to the foot of the bed. The wooden crate was empty, its bottom hollowed out to reveal a wooden ladder, leading far enough down to prevent seeing the bottom of it. Follow took her foot and placed it on the first step, only to make it shriek with stress. At this she had realized that she was significantly heavier than Malachi, especially on such a small area of pressure, but she made it up to continue, trying to be as fast as possible.
As Follow reached the bottom of the ladder the sound had become silent once again, with the exception of her footsteps on the dusty, rocky floor. The visibility of the basement was minimal and almost created an impossible field of view. However, off in the distance she noticed a stream of light, coming forth as if blocked by a wall, which it did appear to be so. She ran up to the light and turned to the left, the direction it was coming from, only to be greeted by the sight of Malachi standing over the pot he brought down and the stench that smelled of a dead carcass that had been eaten and committed up numerous times.
Follow plugged her nose with her left hand and walked over to Malachi. Peering into the pot, she saw a bubbling, green liquid that seemed to be giving off a faint light. Follow switched her focus from the pot to Malachi, whose right arm was coated in a layer of dried blood. She gasped as she finally saw the torn black robe, seat-covered body, and eerily motionless figure of his raved self. His face stared blankly into the distance and his hands moved shakily around the table, placing items into the pot and slowly stirring them as Follow stared.
Follow quickly snapped out of her shock-induced trance and grabbed Malachi’s arm. He was quick to react and took hold of Follow’s arm with his other hand. Turning his head, his eyes showed a piercing leer as his brown pupils blended into a milky white that match that of the rest of his eye.
He's been cursed with seeing all that occurs with this world. Retelling the stories of other's lives, but unable to live one of his own. Here before the rain fell and the wind blew, will he continue to live in darkness if the world crumbles?
The moss of the cave reflected the sunlight against the walls, creating a luminescent, green glow. The enormous butterflies, resting throughout the cave, stayed still, their unmoving wings almost invisible as the light shone through their clear and gelatinous-like figures. Water from the constant showering of rain dripped across the various stalactites that formed across the ceiling. Each drop fell into its own tiny, water-filled crater upon the floor with the sound immediately silenced from the humid air, instead reverberating within the puddle's body. And the whole cave was silent, as if frozen, with time stopped in its flowing tracks by the clogging of the cave rocks at the entrance.
"How much farther do you plan on going, Ryan" Alana moaned. "The sun is setting and we probably just passed the last suitable rest stop for the next five miles."
Alana was a slender figure, with a jet black pixie cut and ebony skin. She was wearing khaki cargo pants, with a few of the pockets containing various tools, a battered and dirt covered white tank, and black combat boots.
Her partner, Ryan, was a perfect match for her, in the sense that he appeared to be an exact opposite. Ryan stood about a foot above Alana and he minimized her with his broad shoulders and muscular frame. His light skin looked a pale white in comparison to her, and his hair was a short, auburn-colored mess. He wore a tight-fitting black shirt, a pair of loose khaki shorts, and a pair of dark brown, steel-toed boots.
The pair had been together for a few weeks now, searching through a dense rain forest that was previously unknown until a short while ago. Both Alana and Ryan were sent on behalf of a Scientific Investigation Agency to collect a census of the creatures present. Alana was the information for their trip, knowing the plants to avoid, the one not yet discovered, and everything in between. Ryan earned his job with his artistic abilities and his inhuman nature to notice every detail.
Both had yet to encounter any type of creature, but they heard the sound of rustling leaves all too often for them to not be concerned. They had started exploring early that day, before the sun had risen, and they had only stopped once to relieve themselves and eat a few berries that Alana had found to be edible. Each had multiple scrapes and punctures dotted along their bodies.
Despite Alana's pleas, Ryan urged her forward, insisting that they were on the brink of discovering a whole new world. The humid, salty air stung Alana's eyes even more as sweat dripped down her forehead. And the unsettling shroud of silence only caused more fright in Alana as she continued to hear her beating heart. However, just as Alana's legs were about to collapse, Ryan held his arm out, signaling an abrupt stop.
"Do you smell that?" Ryan asked, sticking his nose out and sniffing the air.
"No," Alana replied "Is it an animal?"
Instead of answering Alana's question, Ryan took her hand and slowly walked her in a different direction. They noticed that they were approaching something because what had been a strange, unmoving air, suddenly turned into a gust of wind that blew Alana's hair into her eyes. The more they walked the windier it began to become; eventually they had to brace their bodies against it to keep themselves from toppling over.
That was when it stopped. Everything stood motionless once more and the struggling ceased. And there stood a cave in front of them; a cave emitting a beautiful green glow. However, the glow was not fully connected as rocks and boulders were blocking the entrance, creating the glowing cracks that almost seemed to resemble a coiled serpent.
Alana ignored the unnatural light and ran towards the cave, escaping Ryan's grip from her arm. She grabbed a random rock from the wall and, with little effort, the whole entrance block collapsed, revealing a seemingly empty cavern.
Alana's eyes widened at the wondrous sight, the whites of her eyes a green color as they reflected the light. Her nose began to twitch as the once salty air now smelled of a sweet scent that invaded her nostrils and stung her tongue. She was further pleased as the cold sweat attached to her body seemed to have disappeared, leaving behind an almost relaxing feel to the skin.
Ryan was behind Alana the whole time, smelling what she was smelling, and feeling what she was feeling. But he began to walk past her, past the stalactites and past the pools of water along the floor.
Alana was relatively stationary, only moving a few steps closer to the wall. Her face was now immobile, with a grin plastered onto it because held in her line of gaze was the sight of countless butterflies. Huge, voluminous wings attached to small bodies, and everyone of them fit perfectly together, with not a single area of the wall left vulnerable and without any overlapping of the wings. Alana took out her unused sketch book and began to draw them.
After a few minutes Alana had drawn a rough sketch of an individual butterfly and a sketch of the entire view. But she wanted to obtain further details, so she reached her hand forward to try and get a creature to reveal its underside. She gently pressed her finger against a wing, jumping back as a rush of coldness bolted through her body.
Instead of flying away the butterfly merely flapped its wings, released a small whirlwind of particles. Alana approached it again, but this time her hand couldn't seem to stop quivering. The closer she tried to get the more violently she began to shake, sweat flooding her body. Her breathing became short and raspy, until she started gargling. Drowning in her own fluids, she fell to the cold floor, watching the walls around her morph and turn themselves into cold stone. Her body was now covered in butterflies, each one draining her body of water and plasma with their elongated tongues.
Ryan continued on through the cave, now enveloped in a darkness. The longer he walked the more uneasy Ryan began to get. His steps were slower and set down with much more care. His breathing seemed horrendously loud, and was only matched by the sound of his heartbeat. Too scared to move forward, but sensing he was too far to go back, he stopped, paralyzed.
The midst of the cave began to light up, the glowing walls a blurry mess. Ryan's eyes began to gain more focus, the glow now defined in certain shapes. On the floor and upon the walls Ryan saw hieroglyphic images drawn, each one connected by the strands of green lines. All around was the glowing walls; the pathway to this place was no longer visible and, in the center of the room, only a few feet away from Ryan, was a pool of mist.
"I-I can see." Ryan stutters out, "Alana! I can see! I can see!"
Ryan looked around the room. Alana was nowhere to be found. He was quick to panic and quickly ran to where he thought he had entered from. Slamming his fists into the wall to the rhythm of his pounding heart, Ryan noticed his flesh bleeding. Ignoring it, however, he continued to bang against the wall, desperate to attain the attention of anyone who could help him.
Now kicking against the door, he heard the sound of clanging boots change to the sound of a bare foot thumping against the wall. Looking back at his hand, Ryan saw blood dripping down his hand, but it disappeared as it ran down his arm. Instead, he saw it flowing against the walls, with strings of blood wriggling through the pulsating flow. Tragically slow, he watched his body disintegrate. His flesh and blood liquidating and his bones ground into dust.
Ryan's remains lie upon the floor of a collapsed cave. The once green hue of the forest now a malicious scarlet red. And the sky above began to rain bloodied water.
♥♥♥♥♥
The rain violently pounded against the window pane, the wind shaking the foundation of the house. Everything seemed to be unsettlingly loud, even the light outside roared a mighty warning to anyone within miles of itself. The interior of the house was nearly pitch black, with an exception every few seconds at the flash of lightning.
Her hand twisted the dial of the small radio left and right, trying to hear a sound other than that of static. The entire house was filled with white noise and darkness until the screen of the television went bright. It was still a mess of black and white blur, but it gave the house enough light to visibly see the woman who was focused on her radio.
Her hair was a long, brown mess, reaching her lower back. Her body was a thick shape, having small amounts of extra weight throughout it. The clothes she wore were dingy and torn, with her dark blue jeans showing patches of her skin through their worn holes and her muddy, shredded shirt. Her calming green eyes contrasted the wrinkles of experience upon her stern face.After countless turns of the knob the woman finally gave up, hitting the machine with the palm of her hand. Instead, she turned her attention to the withering storm, peering out of a dirty, cracked window. She just stood there watching, witnessing lumber and blood float in the air, in an almost graceful dance, until it all collided against the wall of her house. Rushing for safety, she ran behind the table that held the radio, but not before the bursting window shards grazed her skin, causing her clothes to become even dirtier with blood.
She sat there shaking, in the center of a rubble heap, the wind blowing dust around her body. Her eyes shifted from left to right, scanning the area of all the destruction. Towards the right she saw a man walking towards her. His skin was pale and his hair was a short, mop-like grey bundle with speckled of black. He walked with a polished wooden cane, hunched over like a creature of the night in the black cloth that draped over his body.
“Follow!†the man shouted, “How many times have I told you to hide when the storms come? We can’t have any more injuries within our family, you know that. And besides, there’s nothing to see when they come except water and wind. Now get up and meet me at the well, we have something to discuss.â€
The man turned around and walked away, wading through the rubble. Follow picked herself up off the ground and patted her clothed, the dust coming off from her entering her lungs, causing her to cough out the dry powder. Her legs were unsteady as she walked, stumbling to get outside.
The sky was crimson, with its clouds enveloping all visible openness. Smooth waves of the darkened sea lapped at Follow’s feet as she walked across the narrow strip of land that led towards her village’s center.
Upon arriving, she was greeted by a block of people, gathered around a chipped and worn out stone well, facing what seemed to be a hastily made wooden platform. Standing upon the platform was the man she had spoken with earlier.
With a storming voice that seemed impossibly loud and deep for his size, the wrinkled man upon the platform began to speak towards the crowd, quickly quieting their rumble of chatter and halting their various movements. Everyone had averted all of their attention towards the stage, most wondering why they were gathered about after such a routine storm.
“Hello, fellow men, women, and children that are gathered around me right now,†the man shouted, “I have called you all here with intent of informing you of some fairly hideous news. Despite this recent storm’s nearly perfect passing, the Elders and I have discovered more information about our world’s state.
‘Based on the logs kept throughout the years, we’ve discovered a steady pattern with this rain and have concluded that the water from the sky is not being recycled, but rather created every time. Now, this has yet to prove any negative effects on the potency of our atmospheric shield, however, it does prove to be quite a problem for us personally.
‘You see, we’ve all be here for long for one reason; our village is near a cliff that’s been holding the water back for years. But this cliff has disappeared and its rough edges have become the sand of a beach. And, based on our estimate, we have about a month until the water starts to flood this area past recognition. This is why I’ve come to tell you all that I, and the Elders, have planned an evacuation two weeks from now and I ask that all of you be prepared by then and join us. We will meet here again an hour after dawn.‘I now conclude this meeting and ask that you all go home and rest, as we all appear to need some.â€
The old man hobbled backwards and to his left, off the stage, as the dense group of people dispersed into the rest of the village, leaving only Follow, himself, and a lone boy peering down the well. After having looked around, Follow walked towards the man, making sure to catch him alone.
“Malachi,†she whispered, clutching his right wrist, “I know you’re hiding something and I want to know what it is. I’ll be waiting in your house at dusk.â€
Malachi looked at Follow and realized that she knew him too well to believe any lie. She knew everyone so well that lies always seemed to reveal themselves.
***
The gentle rain slid down the spongy, damp wood of the small, single room log cabin, the crimson moonlight reflecting against every droplet, creating a scarlet tinted hue amongst every wet thing. Within the cabin a small wax candle burned, flickering light against dark blue curtains, creating dancing, purple shadows against the walls. The candle rested on a simple, circular wooden table in the center of the room, which was surrounded by four hard, wooden chairs. Along the right corner farthest away from the entrance lied a bed, parallel to a fairly large metal pot placed against the opposite wall in the lower right corner of the window. The only other visible object was a large, but poorly crafted, truck at the foot of the bed. Its wooden panels were askew and the metal lock sealing it was beaten and chipped.
Follow sat in the chair facing the entrance of the cabin, waiting for Malachi to make his appearance. The candle had been burning for well over an hour, the body of the waxy figure now in a pile of deformed, hardening, white lava. Follow directed her attention towards it, staring at the unsteady flame, relating it to the dependability of Malachi.
As the flame began to die out, the door to the room quietly started to creak as it moved outward, revealing the frail and shaking figure of Malachi. He hurriedly walked in after opening the door, holding his hand up to Follow’s face, signaling her to refrain from talking. Stumbling towards his bed, the can in Malachi’s hand wobbled every time weight was placed on it. Follow continued to sit with her confused gaze as Malachi began to spin his cane, causing the wood to separate, revealing a small key embedded upon the longer and straight end of the cane.
With the key, Malachi stabbed a hole into the woven cloth of his mattress and Follow gasped as the sound of tearing threads boomed within the silent room. He continued ripping apart the cloth until his mattress had been thrown to the floor in pieces, with blotches of stuffing decorating the ground as well. Setting his cane against the wall, he searched through the soft destruction until his left had hit a hard object, quickly snatching it and placing it in his pocket. After, he walked towards the pot with his can and lifted it up by placing the polished wood under the handle. Finally, he stepped in front of the trunk and, with another look at Follow, twisted the key inside the lock latched in front of the trunk.
With a swift movement, Malachi had opened the lid of the trunk and was gone. Follow slowly rose from her chair and crept over to the foot of the bed. The wooden crate was empty, its bottom hollowed out to reveal a wooden ladder, leading far enough down to prevent seeing the bottom of it. Follow took her foot and placed it on the first step, only to make it shriek with stress. At this she had realized that she was significantly heavier than Malachi, especially on such a small area of pressure, but she made it up to continue, trying to be as fast as possible.
As Follow reached the bottom of the ladder the sound had become silent once again, with the exception of her footsteps on the dusty, rocky floor. The visibility of the basement was minimal and almost created an impossible field of view. However, off in the distance she noticed a stream of light, coming forth as if blocked by a wall, which it did appear to be so. She ran up to the light and turned to the left, the direction it was coming from, only to be greeted by the sight of Malachi standing over the pot he brought down and the stench that smelled of a dead carcass that had been eaten and committed up numerous times.
Follow plugged her nose with her left hand and walked over to Malachi. Peering into the pot, she saw a bubbling, green liquid that seemed to be giving off a faint light. Follow switched her focus from the pot to Malachi, whose right arm was coated in a layer of dried blood. She gasped as she finally saw the torn black robe, seat-covered body, and eerily motionless figure of his raved self. His face stared blankly into the distance and his hands moved shakily around the table, placing items into the pot and slowly stirring them as Follow stared.
Follow quickly snapped out of her shock-induced trance and grabbed Malachi’s arm. He was quick to react and took hold of Follow’s arm with his other hand. Turning his head, his eyes showed a piercing leer as his brown pupils blended into a milky white that match that of the rest of his eye.