I had stumbled into the dungeon in the belief it was empty, and in hopes to find some shelter from the firestorm, it's cells having been abandoned since the iron war, but holding firm nonetheless among the ruins of what was once a thriving city, now a scarlet stained wasteland.
Delving into the heart of its cracked stone walls that sank deep beneath the earth, I inched into the darkness streaked blue with moonlight. Silence broke with the faint sound of water striking stone, and someone breathing.
Shards of ice trailed my spine as I ducked into the shadows, holding still against the shattered pillars and low to the floor. Water mirrored beneath my feet and shivered at my breath now chilled. Sadly it was I had no weapon, save for the dagger that was my father's.
I pulled it out and crept further.
My eyes pained as the light dwindled, the air thinning, much to the dismay of my lungs which tightened in protest.
The quiet murmur of shallow breaths continued down the hall of iron cells. The walls stained red by the blood of what innocents it once held, floors worn by countless tears and lost pleas.
I shrink from the memories and cold touch of the iron braces.
As I neared the end of the hall, the sound of breathing stopped. I held my own to listen, in hopes it would return. Had I only heard them? Was there perhaps some creature who hoped to lure me here by the sound, and waited to devour me by the end?
No...I believe I hear them, only they fall fainter now, a rasp, a wheeze, a painful sound.
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Flickers
RandomA bundle of blurbs. (from my pinterest comments) Vote for which to expand into full stories! Each of these bits and bobs, odds, and ends was inspired by a pin of a prompt, poem, or picture, so without the pin might make no sense 🥲 But I'm working...
