The infelicitous

chapter 1

Leylan felt his skin ripple, letting out a small moan as the bone popping suddenly stopped. Struggling back to his feet, sweating and swearing, he pulled the bag closer to his chest.
He managed the energy to look up, surveying the side of the derelict building with a feeling of satisfaction.
Without thinking, his tongue wondered to the prod of metal attached to his lip, playing with it between his teeth, circling the stud between a loosely clenched jaw. The white opal prominent by the edge of his bottom lip sent small reflects of multi-colour across his closed mouth.
Once regaining enough energy, Leylan made his way around the side of the building, looking for the entrance whilst completely bypassing the bourdered up double doors.
A battered sign above the old doors swung in the shallow autumn breeze on one rusted chain, the alphebetical survivors of the words a faded beige. The missing letters no longer spelling "The Hotel Metropolitan", but rather "Hotropia", leaving only the ghostly brown marks to commemorate the dozen letters that had perished within the hotels negligence.

Checking nobody was behind him, nor on the street opposite, Leylan steadily made his way around the side of the hotel. He pressed the bag closer to his chest, reminding himself not to damage the contents. Within a few minutes - and an extensive climb and crawl between a variety of abandoned junk - he found himself finally by a seemingly ordinary wall; decorated unfashionably by graffiti, the words "infelicitous" sprayed in dripped red paint. The words were surrounded by a series of multi-coloured handprint's, all different shapes and sizes. Leylan took his time, recounting the handprints like he did everyday. 7 unmarked prints, some still bright with the freshness of new paint. 5 handprints bore Mark; a detailed diamond-like shape, each vertical end bent over like melted wax, with a jagged slash mark set behind the fluid shape, each Mark set within the palm of the selected prints.

His eyes lingered on a pair of fading blue handprints, side by side in union, similar, both left, with the index finger leaving a larger smudge against the brick wall. The only difference being that the print to the left was maimed with the Mark, and was dainty in comparison, the right looking solumn in its cleanliness.
Leylan raised his left hand, placing it against the larger, unmarked blue print. The wall vibrated under his touch. He watched as the wall began to furrow and pucker, parting like the Red Sea, the once solid brick now moved with the fluidity of water, revealing a set of dark steps that led downwards. Steep and stone-made, the lack of light made the bottom of the steps indiscernible, leading to what seemed purely a pool of darkness. Without hesitation, he descended into the darkness below, a smile of warm tenderness apon his face.