Chapter One.
The Blood Sun.
He who is not contented with what he has, shall not be contented with what he would like to have -Socrates.
I don't know where I am. I don't why I'm here. I don't think I do, but I feel like someone planned this. Someone wants me here whether I want to be or not; and I don't want to be here.
My head hurts. My stomach is rolling, and I overall just don't feel that good.
It's dark, and the cabin I've somehow been crammed into, is spinning in some sort of pattern. Up. Pause. Down. Pause. Half rotate. Pause. Full rotate. Repeat. Like a carousel, only no giggling children on this ride. My hands are clammy, my mouth tastes coppery, and my breath is coming in short, rapid puffs.
Claustrophobia- I used to joke about how I'd act if I didn't always have people around me.
Sweat is rolling down my back in more than drops, and my head is pounding. I put my hand on my forehead, and wipe off the sweat. My arm drops to my lap and I try to breath normally.
Blood. Oh God, the blood.
It's everywhere- rushing in my head, flowing in my veins, mingling with the sweat on my forehead, and seeping from my very being- It must be a head injury, but I don't know what I hit. I'm not sure where the blood is coming from; my head, my entire being, my imagination?
The blood is now falling more freely; trickling into my tangled knots, dripping onto my fringe and into my eyes. This is not my blood, I convince myself- It can't be. My hands quickly check for a wound and come up short.
Where am I?
The spinning continues. The cabin makes a whirring that sounds like an air conditioner, but as loud as a powerful engine. My head pounds some more, and I place my hands over my ears, attempting to block out the noise. Another rotation, and I feel like hurling more and more as it continues to do so.
Up. Pause. Down. Pause. Half rotate. Pause. Full rotate. Pause. Repeat. It goes on until I can't hold it in anymore. I stare at the chunks on my tattered shoes, and it prompts me to vomit again. I hurl once more, this time aiming everywhere but at me. The stench consumes me, and I start to feel the first stages of dizziness a person experiences before passing out.
I don't want to be here.
I bang my arms on the metal door, screaming but all it earns me is some more fresh blood oozing from a new wound, and a sore throat. Nevertheless, I continue pounding and screaming and yelling, until I'm out of breath. My arms sting when they rub against my shirt sleeve, and my throat feels raw and achy. But the discomfort is not enough to take me away from the truth of the matter.
I am stuck in here- I am going to die.
Author's Note:
Hello guys! Sorry if it confuses anyone by the chapter name change. It's just that I'd like to make a distinction between the prologue and the begining of the book itself. Oh, also, I had been writing this book somewhere else, so the formatting is a bit different for the chapters. So when you see Chapter One, or whatever at the begining of the entry and as the title, it's because the chapters I had before were like ten pages each, and I wouldn't to put all that in one entry. Hope this makes sense. If you don't understand, please dm me.
Otherwise, hope you loved this and enjoyed it. If so, don't forget to vote on it and show your love. And if you didn't like it, leave a comment telling me what you didn't like, and I'll be sure to use that piece of advice in the future! For now, later guys.
Peace out.
YOU ARE READING
The Prophetess
Fantasy"Their lives rest in your hands, Sera. Don't fail them." The old lady said, and before I could put a word in, she disappeared; just like dust. Seventeen year old Sera has always considered herself to be the 'mum' of her odd family, and always acted...
