The Eyes of Consciousness
"Death, a simple but meaningful word that strikes fear into the hearts of the courageous, and hysteria into the souls of the weak. You, the son of the Moon, are the accursed and the chosen. The 7 judges are quarreling over your fate. Beware, for I am always watching." These were the words that Dante read on an ancient tablet, as a tall shadowy figure approached him from behind. Thousands of thoughts flooded Dante's mind, and in one single graceful move, He unsheathed his blade from under his sleeve and slashed the figure's throat. Blood gushed everywhere. This was his life. Suddenly and out of the blue, Dante felt a sharp pain in his shoulder, which soon spread out to the rest of his body, he felt as if though he was melting from the inside out, black and blue dots danced around on Dante's eyes. Dante collapsed.
He awoke numb and cold. He lay there on the icy asphalt, disoriented and lost; blood seeped from the open wound on his forehead. He stood up; he felt addled and hazy, he slowly stumbled looking for shelter, while snowflakes slowly started to accumulate on his dark hair gently resting. His weary eyes were no longer wary, shivers went up his spine each step he took. He still felt the presence watching him, he could feel it in his very soul, but something was different, and he couldn't pin down what it was. The crisp sound of footsteps in the snow broke the silence in the air, the steps he took made wounds in the earth that would never heal. He trudged in the snow to a quaintly painted tea house, where he was warmly greeted by a ravishing mysterious woman with warm cocoa skin and gentle caramel eyes. She cared for his wounds and asked about where he got them. Dante answered with a cold grunt, but his eyes held the truth; he had no idea how he acquired them, he awoke with them. After a while Dante requested if he could stay for the night, which the kind lady allowed, and showed him to an old guest room, which showed signs of abandonment. Dante sensed a vile presence in the room, but he cared not, for he was too exhausted. He laid his drained body on the bed and shut his eyes, and then quickly slipped into deep sleep.
His dreams were filled with the oddest oddities. He dreamt of a bleeding sun being drained of its dominance, and of a parrot that spoke in an unintelligible manner but seemed to be urgently trying to convey a message. No matter where he went, he heard footsteps coming his way, whenever they got too close, they vanished and shortly started again. Dread was tattooed to his body, so he always felt somewhat afraid. He heard a rasp, metallic voice saying "he's close. My kinsmen, our long, tedious hunt will finally come to an end!" He suddenly found himself chained to a rotating wooden wheel. Dante struggled with all his might to stop the wheel, but alas, his efforts were in vain. His struggles turned into yelps of horrible discomfort. Dante finally poured all his emotions into a single word, " stop!" he yelled, reality shifted around him and he — stopped. Dante awoke traumatized, his forehead started to form beads of sweat, until a cold, gentle breeze swept through the open window carrying the scent of the night gently wrapped him in a mother's calm embrace. Dante looked at the serene world outside sleeping soundly. " A storm is brewing" Dante thought. Dante considered staying and waiting the storm out, but he had to leave, he had a goal— which was still unknown. Dante grabbed his cloak and silently left, leaving the place the way he found it.
The air was brisk when He stepped out, though the sun was strangely out and was unusually bright. " It's gone" Dante thought with a sigh of relief escaping his mouth. —"What's gone?" said a shrill voice behind him, Dante then broke into the fastest sprint he had ever run in his life, retracing every step he took, through every ally, down every street, but it felt as if though the voice was peering from over his shoulder, or maybe from within him. Dante quickly shook the unsettling thought away and kept running until he reached to the place where he awoke from his mysterious slumber. The blood stain was still there, strangely unfrozen. Something had changed about it: it was shimmering as if it were made of liquid rubies. The shade of a bird flying overhead blanketed him with a menacing coolness. At the sight of the large bird, Dante fell into a futile sprint again having the shimmery blood splattered all over him. The coolness followed him. —He was absorbing it. —His movements slowed down with each passing second as he felt his joints stiffening and his flesh freezing...
Dante jolted up from his bed heavily breathing. He was in his bed. "A dream?" Dante thought. "No, it can't be." Dante rose from his bed. The thuds of his bare feet hitting the wooden plank floor comforted him as he walked to the window. It was dawn. It was springtime. People were just starting to wake up. The nuns were leaving the church after an exhausting vigil. The jays were singing their usual songs off in a distant tree. "How can this all be a dream?" Dante thought. "Meanings, meanings, meanings!" "what does it mean?" "Ego? Subconscious thoughts? Wishes and desires? What is this complexity!" "Are the 7 judges the deadly sins and desires? Lust, gluttony, greed, sloth, wrath, covetousness and pride? Is this wintery world my mind?" "who are the hunters? And what was the parrot trying to say? who was the mysterious woman? Dante then went on raving and jotting down every thought that passed his mind in a deranged manner. A slender silhouette calmly approached him from behind, and gently tapped his shoulder, interrupting his ravings. She asked in a voice as smooth and sweet as honey "Where did you get these wounds?" Dante charily turned around to see one of the nuns that have just left the church following the cessation of last night's vigil. She was veiled with a veil as dark as midnight. Dante sat there staring, waiting for the nun to introduce herself. She raised her veil exposing her face. Dante gaped, petrified at the sight of caramel eyes on a cocoa canvas.
