ECHOES OF EDEN, Neil Perry

02| CROW

AS THE CHIMES OF FIVE THIRTY ECHOED THROUGH THE HALLOWED HALLS OF WELTON ACADEMY, Lucien regarded it as a silent summons to retreat to the sanctuary of his room. Stirred from the depths of an unsettling dream, he felt the urgent pull of wakefulness urging him to seek solace in the quiet solitude of the night. With a resigned sigh, he slipped out from beneath the weight of his tangled sheets, his movements fluid and deliberate as he navigated the dimly lit corridors.

The faint glow of moonlight filtered through the windows, casting elongated shadows that danced upon the walls like spectral apparitions. Lucien's footsteps echoed softly against the cold, marble floors as he made his way towards the nearest exit, his mind awash with the remnants of fragmented dreams and half-formed thoughts.

Stepping out into the cool night air, he inhaled deeply, the sharp bite of the evening chill invigorating his senses. Pulling a cigarette from the pack tucked within the folds of his jacket, he deftly lit it with a flick of his lighter, the soft glow illuminating his features in the darkness.

As tendrils of smoke curled upwards towards the heavens, Lucien found himself lost in contemplation, his thoughts drifting like wisps of fog upon the wind. Alone with his thoughts and the gentle whisper of the night, he found a fleeting sense of peace amidst the chaos that always seemed to envelop him. And in that solitary moment, as the world slumbered around him, he was free to linger in the quiet embrace of the night, if only for a fleeting moment longer.

As he exhaled, tendrils of smoke spiraled into the crisp night air, dissipating into the darkness like ethereal wisps. With each breath, the sharp sting of the wind against his face served as a stark reminder of his waking reality, grounding him in the present moment. Yet, despite the chill that permeated his bones, Lucien found himself drawn back to the remnants of a dream that lingered like a ghostly specter in the recesses of his mind.

In the hazy depths of his subconscious, he wandered the familiar corridors of Welton Academy, an eerie silence enveloping the deserted halls like a shroud. The echoing caw of a solitary crow pierced the stillness, its mournful cry beckoning him forth into the unknown. Ignoring the gnawing sense of unease that twisted in the pit of his stomach, Lucien ventured beyond the safety of the academy's walls, drawn inexorably towards the dark heart of the surrounding woods.

Yet, as he ventured deeper into the tangled undergrowth, the once alluring call of the crow was drowned out by the sinister whisper of unseen footsteps stalking him from the shadows. A primal fear gripped his heart like a vise as he stumbled blindly through the darkness, each step fraught with the anticipation of imminent danger.

And then, just as suddenly as it had begun, the dream dissolved into nothingness, leaving behind only the lingering echoes of his own racing heartbeat. With a start, Lucien was jolted back to consciousness, the remnants of the dream still clinging to the edges of his mind like cobwebs in the morning light.

Shaking off the lingering sense of foreboding, he took another drag from his cigarette, the bitter taste of smoke lingering on his tongue. For a fleeting moment, he found himself yearning for the sanctuary of his bed, eager to escape the haunting specter of his own subconscious. But as the morning stretched out before him, Lucien knew that he could not hide from the ghosts that lurked within, not tonight, and perhaps not ever. And so, with a heavy heart and a weary soul, he resigned himself to face whatever horrors the night may bring, if only to confront the demons that haunted his dreams.

Lucien shrugged off the lingering tendrils of his unsettling dream like an unwanted burden, dismissing it with a nonchalant flick of his wrist. Dreams were just dreams, after all—ephemeral wisps of the subconscious, devoid of any real significance. Yet, even as he feigned indifference, a nagging curiosity gnawed at the edges of his consciousness, whispering tantalizingly of mysteries left unsolved.