Incubus elliptica

Chapter 1

With a big ball of sparks, the fire lit up again.

The Author looked up. It had been eight years since his wife had died and he was forced to live alone in this gigantic old house.

He sat back down and took a sip out of his wineglass.

Sometimes, it appeared that there was still some more life in this house. Life that didn't belong here. A... deadly... atmosphere. You could hear doors screech at night, feel a soft breeze on your skin as if someone has opened a window and maybe see movement out of the corner of your eye in one of the many paintings in this house. His wife had been an artist.

By the thought of his wife, he chugged down the rest of the wine in the glass. He had still not gotten over her death. Every night, he had nightmares of the evening where he found her corpse. She had committed suicide at the age of 32.

A tear rolled down his face and he reached fort he liquor bottle beside him.

After her death, his life broke completely apart. He had stopped the novel he was working on at the time and got serious alcohol problems soon after. He was perfectly aware of his situation, but he didn't bother ever since. She had been his everything. And now she had left him.

A scream left his throat and in the next moment of consciousness, he found himself crying and hitting his hands on the floor. Eight years. Eight years full of disbelief, pain and unbelievable sadness. To this day, he still has her smell in his nose. And the image of her beautiful flowy brown hair in front of him.

And her eyes. Her piercing blue eyes. A blue like he had never seen before. When she looked at him, he always felt like there was so much love in her normally steel cold look. She used to wear thin-framed glasses which made her eyes show beautifully.

In his anger, he had knocked a few books out of his shelf. As he realized that he had been laying on the ground, stuck in memories for almost half an hour now, he sat up again and leaned back against the table leg. The alcohol was too much for him tonight.

The act of getting back on his feet seemed impossible. Everything around him was moving and he felt like he was going to throw up out of motion sickness any second. Slowly, he found grip on the table and his chair and managed to get up. But walking still seemed very far away. The room was moving.

As he turned his head he thought he saw someone standing in the doorway. He saw a girl with thigh long hair, standing with the back towards him. He got a hold of a bit more of a steadier grip and looked at her. Something seemed familiar. Suddenly she turned her head and looked at him with a glance.

What he saw, chased chills down his spine. It couldn't be.