DOOM Prophecy

I. DOOM Prophecy

A/N: I wrote this ages ago and sort of forgot about it, so I thought it was about time to see whether it's a story worth continuing. It's a bit rough and not edited, so please read at the risk of your own annoyance. ;) Plus, the cover is really rubbish- but I'm working on it!

Anyway, if you're intrigued by the end, please do leave a comment!

~Bryony

CHAPTER I.

~ Cold. ~ 

'It's strange to think that from the very first 'c' of civilization, to all that has and will follow is based upon the development and use of language; for, had something taken place in history that just so happened to foretell the very scheme of our current global hierarchy, theoretically speaking, but language had not assisted in telling this event, how could you say that such an event did take place? And what's more, what is the scheme? Or, if language had assisted in telling this story, who would believe it? Silence of the Knowing is what leaves the Oblivious to compose their own conspiracies, at the hand of fear: the expectancy of untold secrets and absence of understanding. This fear is what gives the Knowing their power.' Prof. Mundus De Fatum, 21 October 2013. Written at 19:55.

~ Cold. ~

'It's also strange to think that we truly believe that naming something grants us understanding of said thing, or even just knowing the name' Prof. Mundus De Fatum, 21 October 2013. Written at 19:58.

~ Cold. ~

'"Burning cheeks. The tingling of idle fingertips beneath arctic waters followed by a heavy numbness shared by the other glowing scarlet extremities of one's bare form." To think that those words would be considered descriptive yet have no connection to what they try to describe. They are simply words on a page that merely restrain the beauty of one's experience of coldness. And, though it may be an unpleasant feeling, it must be treasured, for without it, could such a feeling ever be recognised and appreciated.' Prof. Mundus De Fatum, 21 October 2013. Written at 20:07.

~ Cold. ~

The shattering of glass followed by a piercing scream. I couldn't move. Not because I was scared and paralysed to where I was huddled, but because he told me not to. The intruders voices were loud and harsh though they didn't carry well through the floor. From what I could tell it was a foreign tongue that they were using but he understood them. His voice remained calm and gentle and made the alien words sound soothing and poetic. Then he began to speak English. They were words I had heard many times before and I knew he was now talking to me:  

"As she had done many times, once all the nasty eels had fled the palace, the young mermaid swam off to her father's quarters to find her mother's chest. When she had reached her fathers quarters she locked herself in and opened the elaborate little box in the corner of the room. She searched right to the bottom of it until she found her favourite jewels and placed them delicately around her neck. This reminded the young princess of the love she had been so lucky to have shared with her mother and the great beauties and knowledge she would inherit from her father. Those were the things that not even the nasty eels could take from her." 

Silence suddenly fell as his words were cut short. They clearly hadn't understood those words and were angered by that. The silence was broken by a soft 'thump' of something heavy hitting the carpeted floor. I think that even if I had in-fact been 100 miles away, not just hiding in the room above, I would have still heard that 'thump'. And I wish I hadn't. The harsh voices whispered to one another for a short moment before the sound of retreating footsteps could be heard, grinding the shattered glass further into the carpet as they went.