Khlōros
- Reads 2,174
- Votes 53
- Parts 10
Ongoing48m
Last published Thu, Oct 24, 2013
"Mark!" Lauren chirped into his house as she opened the door to let herself in. A eerie silence filled the house; the only sound being the clip-clop of her heals. Her white flowy gown trailed behind her as she walked through the halls. "Mark?" Lauren quested stressing the K for effect. Lauren gasped when she saw a figure on the ground. She dropped to her knees by his side.She looked at his face and was instantly reminded of the word her grandmother taught her; khlōros. A Greek word used to describe the color of death. In English khlōros would translate into white or pale but he wasn't white, he wasn't pale. he was khlōros. It was the color of dead flesh. Grey with a yellow green tent...ashen. Mark gazed up at her with unblinking eyes. Eyes that would never blink again. She looked from his face for a second to see his hand clenched around a small velvet box..... A ring box. "Who?" Lauren asked almost like she was expecting a reply. "Me" a dark voice answers from across the room. Lauren jumped up and pulled away from the body of her love, backing up closer to the wall. The man was near the door and only window so there was no chance of escape. Lauren heard herself scream. Then the man steped out of the shadows into the light. His night sky eyes glimmered. his shaggy dirty blond hair was so different than Marks short curly black hair and ordinary brown eyes. The depth of the mans blue eyes weakened her then she heard him reply to her question with a tiny smile. "All's fair in love and war."
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The man above you released a chuckle. It was a rotten sound, decayed and bitter. Brutal. Sinister. "You know," He began, tone sharp. "She may fight-and it is so pretty when she fights...But, at the end of the day, she loves the things we do to her." Your stomach churned, a resounding chorus of identical laughter from more men behind you. Your boyfriend glared at the reflections of himself, sizing them up. But, no, you couldn't let him do this. "Just go, Mark. You can't take all of them," You whispered, tears pricking the corners of your eyes. Sinister's hand tightened at your roots, jerking your face to level with his. You yelped, squirming as he gripped your cheeks with his other hand. He kept you facing your broken boyfriend, locked in on his tortured gaze. Sinister released a low chuckle, squeezing your face before purring, low and cruelly, "But you know who can?" ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ PART THREE of The Mask Chronicles © elainewonderswriting - no reposts, translation, plagiarism or ai feeding.
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