The House Of Blood and Dust, Book One: Darkness Rising

Fifty Shades of Darkness

Right straight punch, left hook jump and lead into a forward straight punch. The punching bag swings and I continue to beat at it to gain my strength back, perhaps to fatigue myself to help myself feel alive. The shooting pains fly around my body which with the pains and the over-thinking have stopped me from sleeping. Tiredness has yet to sink its tenacious claws into me. The wind softly blows and the police and military still wander the streets. Thick grey smoke can be seen all around.

          “Why don’t you just call her?” I turn to see Zachary. I yawn and stretch my arms which ache in dull pain.  

          “What are you out about? Abigail has gone back to her camp and she’s with my child.” He gets closer to me and smiles, placing both hands on both of my shoulders.

          “You’re in a foul mood; I can see that but do not deny the way you felt when you saw her and the way she reacted when she saw you, the gods damned  banshee’s could have seen it.” I look down at the grass; my feet still covered in blood from the shards of glass which I had removed but pain seems to have left and the wounds somewhat healed. “Are you in much pain?”

          “Yes… I couldn’t sleep, the bullet maybe removed but pain lingers, my knees hurt as do my shoulders and I’m pissed off just to add the god damn cherry on the pissing top.” He hugs me whist laughing,

          “Calm yourself… she left for the safety of your child. Now promise me one thing… call Miranda invite her to the party, your heart will need somebody to mourn with.” I don’t care about the child, nor her just wished I hadn’t fucked her, I feel disgusted with letting her know me again.

          “More like moan, Avenji cheer up my sister has gone and your brother is telling you to pursue another woman; nevertheless I agree with his ramblings.” Feredir has his bow and the leather quiver filled with arrows, the archer is dressed in his dressing gown;

          “Now call her and get a shower, your feet are growing civilisation and I can smell you from here.” I smile and walk into the house, Proditor is fast asleep on the sofa his face covered with a magical tome, ‘The Investigation of Welkins.’ An interesting read, a better one is Lucifer Yaoum’s ‘The Devil’s Home’ a fine piece of Mademic literature, about the life of a man who sells his soul to the devil for immortality but goes insane and kills a bunch of people, gets locked up and then his prison life just takes him to hell where he fights demons and just later is revealed to be how he dies.     

          I grab the house phone from the mantle and flick through the phonebook, Miranda Jones an old flame which flickered but was never fully burnt out. She moved away: black hair, pale skin. Her figure is something which would be the envy of any photo shopped supermodel. I call the number and wait  

          “Hello.” Candice her sister is the voice that I hear,

          “Is Miranda there? This is Avenji Arkness.” Nothing just rustling and static,

          “Hello Avenji, are you phoning me to say forget what happened last night… how can you be part of that terrorist group?”

          “We are not terrorists, we’re just semi-anarchists and we were framed as well.” Nothing just breathing, “But that is not why I’m phoning, I was just inviting you to Feredir’s birthday party.” Silence, nothing but daunting silence, my heart beating softly as I tap my fingers on the mantle,

          “That would be fun; I guess… can Candice come?”

          “Of course wear what you want Feredir doesn’t care, he’d come naked if he was allowed.” A short laugh “Well I have to take a shower, so goodbye.”