What was left in ethereal darkness was forgotten, while thicker material etchings remained like webbing along numerous matrices.
Insanity awoke the next morning to a familiar, dark apartment, interrupting whatever dreams he was having.
Then, he fell asleep again, went to the bathroom, then fell asleep once more after crawling back into bed.
Henceforth, a knock on the door sounded as the white covers projected onto his body slugged off with the sudden noise, jolting him alert as he pushed himself upright. The fox-feline's brown eyes were surprised, dreary, and anxious all at once in wondering who would have been present at the door.
The knock was clearly hard enough to wake him from his slumber... but it did not happen again. There was no more sound, besides the quiet hum of electronics against Savannah's twitching ears.
From the source of nothingness in which all thoughts came, new ones created from the spark of influence drifted their way along his consciousness, laying stagnant in their invisible 'form'.
So,
'what was it—
who was it—
what did they want—
maybe it was the wrong person, maybe it was the wrong door—'
and it grew on and on until he could no longer resist the call to answers. Getting up out of the warmly kept bed and walking over, he stood on his hinds to first peer through the peephole atop the front door. And as such, there was no one. All he could make out from the fisheye lens attached was something strange and purple being left at the bottom. With a pause, he pondered. Then quickly, he opened the door and swiped at the object as fast as he could, shutting the thing fast behind him as he turned.
It was dark blue,
and it was a letter.
Savannah's heart skipped a beat; onto many.
Indeed, it was another colored letter, with the first being the one that started this whole thing. The unbaring of the world's truth to his psyche, like uncovered fangs that tore through anything it could get its grips on.
"I can't even..." He said, beginning to pace back and forth in nervous temperament, "I don't even..."
A few other words came muttered under his breath, verbal with sense of lingering panic until he would finally quit threading his slightly unsheathed claws along the carpet of the one-room dwelling, and take the thing... sitting atop his bed as he opened it with unceremonious, rugged approach.
Tearing through, he did it skillfully enough as to not damage the contents inside, albeit with a bit of luck given the sharpness of his claw tips.
Inside laid a fancy, amber yellow piece of paper almost resembling that of parchment design— or at least something modern to mimic its form. Neatly folded and laced with intricate, ruby string in closing, he would take the same approach as to the letter instead of attempting to untie it, and open it up before him along the bed.
"To the honorable Mr. Douglas Aiszer,
This letter cordially invites you to participate in the Mystery Manor's fifth annual celebration party. We regretfully state, however, that the occasion represents the final celebratory party for a significant period of time due to matters of preservation and other affairs.
Despite these circumstances, we are delighted to welcome you! The party will provide large banquets, guest appearances and an abundance of important individuals. Free entry shall be included.
YOU ARE READING
Blood's Sacrifice
FantasyThe world will know ruin. That much becomes clear to a young-adult Savannah Rose, who is forced to desperately try and survive in order to cope with the knowledge of such a grand undoing.
