Vessel

Onyxdale; a province with a high crime rate, gloomy weather, below average income and filthy streets filled to the brink with shit.

In the early month of February, a recently promoted detective is assigned to a case that has been reopened after years of collecting dust.

In the south-west district of town, two close-knit sisters return to college after a calm winter break, excited for the five months ahead.

North of them there resides a man with an aura so powerful most ignore him or fall at his feet.

With two oblivious, naive sisters; one self-destructive, ambitious detective; and a man with a stare whiter than the purest snow, you'll chase the killer, that doesn't appear to exist.

2Likes
2Comments
336Views

1. Prologue

 

vessel

 

VES'SEL, n. L. vas, vasis.

 

a container (like a cask, bottle, kettle, cup, or bowl) for holding something.
- a person into whom some quality (as grace) is infused.
- a watercraft bigger than a rowboat.
- a tube or canal (like an artery) in which a body fluid is contained and conveyed or circulated.
- a conducting tube in the xylem of a vascular plant formed by the fusion and loss of end walls of a series of cells.

 

Through Acts 9:15 the word "vessel" has passed into Christian theology as simply signifying a "human being."


 

Even though the little, cracked bulb in the ceiling was on, it seemed as if nothing was lit in the narrow, limed bathroom. She breathed a thick, hot air, an air that was poisoned with stuffiness and suffocating stress. Her hands shook to the point where she thought she'd played tennis in her sleep.

 

 Something plagued her abdomen, something stung, as if thumbtacks had pierced her egg stalks. It tickled, her body growing warm. She had never experienced this before, and yes, she knew this would happen at some point, but she had no idea why it had to happen now.

 

 Over her conscious control, her sweaty hand caught the door handle. She dripped with sweat, from top to toe, she did not want to, she was not going to allow herself to exit this claustrophobic room, but under her neck, she was in flames.

 

 Her ears caught a ticking in their fine hairs, the grandfather clock was standing by the wall in the hallway, its gold-painted embroideries had seen better years. Her abdominal muscles tensed, in an attempt to keep an eye on logic, she grabbed at the door frame, her feet glued to the threshold.

 

She panted and wheezed, but nothing helped, not even a bit. When she finally gave up, her spine straightened itself almost automatically, her sweaty hands relaxing and her arms falling down to her sides.

 

The floorboards creaked when her feet came into contact with them, her hand snaking up the half-open living room door and she pushed it gently forward, enough to where she could see the dining and kitchen table. She did not recognize the apartment, she had never been here before, she'd swear so across her dead body.

 

As she set foot in the living room, her heart stopped pumping blood, the room was turned on its head, the furniture were either on their sides or they were stacked on top of each other. A vase of lilacs stood on top a box of cigars from the eighties, balancing on a wide table-leg of oak wood; and the leg floated a meter above the carpeted floor.

 

She burned, but her blood was slowly freezing and clotting her veins, everything she knew was clouded with dirty lust, an unchristian desire. As the door hit the wall, she took another step, the pure white walls dazzled her, blinding her. It was then, that a voice jumped off the massive walls and made her ovaries boil over.

 

"I decided to wait until you came by yourself", the voice was a man's, it was cool and the only contrast to the heat she felt.

 

The man sat in a black leather chair, his muscular legs crossed in a feminine position. He was monochrome, an image without color. He carried a smile of adorned poison, his hand held a thin wine glass and when he moved his fingers he left no prints on the reflective surface.

 

He stared with bleach-white eyes at her, his frozen gaze drilling through her head like an icicle and out of his skull, a little above his ears two horns twisted upwards, twisting at the center and pointing straight at the ceiling, and they shined like onyx.

 

She stammered, her vocal cords wrapped in loops and tears gathered in her tear ducts.

 

"Who are you?" She whispered like a bird that'd deceived its mother.

 

"I?" His smile broke so much, so that she spotted a dimple in the left side of his face.

 

The flower jar with the fine pastel-purple lilacs took off from the cigar box, and they quietly floated toward a nearby sofa-table.

 

The table leg flew to a table with only three legs, lifting the disabled table up and putting itself into its original place, even though it knew that the table would never be able to stand properly again.

 

He lifted his chin, rolled his shoulders back and leaned forward in the shining leather, his head oblique and the same smile displayed on his white, cracked lips and she let herself drown, the void in his eye, was that, of an animal.

 

"Satan", He replied, and with a relaxed smile.

 

 

Join MovellasFind out what all the buzz is about. Join now to start sharing your creativity and passion
Loading ...