Blood Tattoo

 Prologue

I’m running, my feet slamming hard against the stone ground. All I can see is a seemingly endless tunnel stretching out before me. The walls of this tunnel are of the same stone as the ground, their stuffy, earthy musk suffocating my screaming lungs. I’m gasping for air, my heart pounding in my ears. I can’t stop; I can just feel in every fiber of my being that if I stop running something bad will happen. The darkness that surrounds me is illuminated by a piercing, eerie light coming from the end of this massive tunnel. I push forward, begging for my salvation. It is then, in the newfound light that I see black tendrils are creeping up along my peripheral vision.

This darkness, I can feel, is trying to envelop me. I close my eyes, I can’t look. I didn’t want to see this phantom chasing me, the creature that was saturating me in this severe terror. I sprint through the long tunnel, my only thought to get to the light. I open my eyes, the light now only a short distance away, my whole body is weak, straining to maintain movement. I struggle towards the light, black dots spotting my vision, the all too real possibility of fainting slowly taking over my consciousness. I take the last few faltering steps, and I arrive in a small cavern. The darkness that pursued me scatters in the rays of this haunting glow.

I take several deep breaths, my heart still racing, though I feel a sense of security in this room. I turn my gaze upon the light. It looks to be a tiny orb hovering over a tiny basin erected from the massive stalagmite in the center of the cavern. The color emanating from the orb is a chalky white with hints of blue that cast long shadows on the ribbed cavern walls. The orb’s form ripples as if it was covered in transparent flames, though the light gives off no heat. This room is chilled which is a blessing to my panting, sweaty body. I approach the orb on rubbery legs; I feel as if it is calling out to me. As I extend my shaking hand out towards the orb, which I now see is about the size of a bowling ball, I hear a noise behind me. I tense up, the noise was very slight, the sound of a pebble dropping perhaps. It has set me on red alert none the less.

I turn around slowly, afraid of what I’ll see. I peer out into the stretching tunnel. A heavy boot steps out of the shadows. A cloaked figure enters the room. With the entrance being the only way into this cavern I back up until I’m pressed against the far wall, never taking my eyes off the cloaked figure. This person, their stature looks familiar, like a distant memory you can only remember a tiny detail from. The figure reaches up and removes their hood, letting the dark, heavy fabric fall onto their back. The sight sends an immediate lump to my throat. I feel my eyes prickle with the promise of tears as my vision blurs. My body shakes in a silent sob. Before me is my flesh and blood, the man who raised me; my father.

His weathered face looks tender, older, but it is definitely the man I remember. He has a look on his face that sends images of my childhood racing through my mind. I push myself off the wall towards him, stumbling on shaky legs and overpowering emotion. I collapse into his arms, and he holds me tight, just like he did when I was young. I breathe in that old scent which I had almost forgotten. I could have stayed there forever, holding him tight, never letting him leave again, but he gently holds my upper arms, and pushes me back slightly, as if to talk to me.

When I look up to his face, there are definite tears there, which make my heart skip a beat. The hardened warrior that I remember from my childhood would have never shown such weakness in front of me. He looks into my eyes, his icy blue ones a paternal copy of mine. He moves his mouth as if to speak, but no sound is made. My heart is starting to race again, a fear coming over me, its icy fingers crawling up my spine and prodding my mind. My tears of joy have quickly turned into tears of fear and horror. His face appears as shocked as mine is, and he tries again to speak with the same results. He is now trying to yell, gripping me tighter, desperation in his eyes. It is then that he begins silently coughing. The kind of coughs that cause your body to shake with exertion.

He doubles over, releasing his grip on me to hold himself tightly; he is in pain. I feel helpless, this silent scene playing out before my eyes. He raises his head, then I see it. Blood. He hacks again, this time an explosion of red pouring from his mouth, staining the stone of the cavern floor with a sickly red gleam. He steps towards me. I can’t move, panic taking over my body. He looks at me, his nose bleeding, and his eyes welling up with blood. My mind is racing. His movements become jerky, and he falls to his knees, his eyes pleading with me to help him. I can only stand bolted to the ground, mouth a gap, tears streaming down my face. I try to scream, but I can emit no sound.  He then falls fully to the floor, seizing up, violently spasming on the ground just feet in front of me. Then his form stills.

My body goes numb. I stumble back, collapsing into the hard wall behind me. I can’t tear my eyes away from the creeping red now pooling around his body. I try so hard to cry out, to scream to the heavens. No matter how hard I try, no sound will come out. Just as I am about to resign to body-wracking sobbing, the world goes black.