Monday, 28 March 2011

Blood and Stars - Episode 8 - The Morning After

I woke, the mid morning sun streamed through the open French windows, a gentle breeze lifting the curtains. My head was a little muzzy, too much bourbon with Him last night, however I didn't think I could refuse him hospitality and to have not participated would have seemed churlish.

A swim was the first order of the day, it would help clear my head. Once more I relished the remoteness of my condo, the cool salt air filling my lungs. I dove into the surf, immersed suddenly in a silent world then broke through the surface and the soft crash of the waves on shore once more filled my ears. I looked up to the sky, it was streaked with cloud and the sun had a hazy appearance. A break in the weather was coming, the wind had changed direction a little and the waves out to sea had white caps.

I swam back to shore and padded up the beach and in through the French windows, closing them behind me. A day to stay at home and edify the mind. The hot water of the shower pounded my back and shoulders. A day for being on my own, no projects, He had given me some time off, “for a job well done” He'd said. Nice to be appreciated I thought, someone taking an interest in your work, noticing the care and attention I lavished on each project. I lathered my body, lemon-grass and ylang ylang, or something like that, I didn't really care, I just liked the smell. Rinse off, towel down, coffee percolator on.

Whilst I waited for the automatic drip, I flicked through my music collection and selected a CD. Soon the enveloping sounds of Mahler oozed from the speakers, me and my caffeine settled on the sofa to enjoy Gustav's best.


A low, loud rumble.

I started awake, it was pitch black, then, a brilliant flash illuminated the room. Silence. The muted glow of the stereo display the only source of light in the darkness. I stood up and crossed to the window, pulling back the curtains to watch nature's glorious fury over the ocean. Streaks of pink lightning tore through the sky, the silence broken by rain falling hard and fast, tattooing the roof. Thunder crashing, the lightning brillianced. Transfixed I stood at the window.


Sharp, searing, twisting pain.

In the silence of the storm, a drip-drop on the floor. I knew it was blood, my blood. As I turned to face my assassin my knees buckled and I fell to the floor. A face came into view, starkly lit by a lightning flash. The smell of cloves and cinnamon.


Master wants a new floor covering for his library.”


1 comment:

  1. It's not the serial's end, is it? I want to know tho Master is, for crying out loud!

    Oh, welcome back! :D