Friday, December 21, 2012

Set Me Free - Chapter Four



See Chapter Three Here
See Chapter Two Here
See Chapter One Here


Drifting through the back alleys of Borghese, the wind howled and the rain poured. Renzo stuck to the shadows a skulking mass of contemplation emitting anger from his very pours. The streets reeked of human waste, oh, how he detested the smell of human filth that clogged the gutters and seeped into his senses. Picking up the pace he lightly stepped over a whore on the cobblestones clutching at his ankles, begging for his help. HELP! He thought to himself, he couldn’t even help himself

 
Standing outside of the Archbasicilica Church he cut a lonely figure. Stood staring up at his salvation, it was deep into the night and the moons glow cast the building in an eerie light. The storm battered the steeple tower as the winds picked up their pace, whistling through the pine trees that shadowed the graveyard and lead out onto the courtyard where Renzo was stood. Frozen and in awe of how the weather so deeply represented the anguish and the torment in side of him. He stepped up to the high oaken doors and rapped the large copper handle thrice before standing back and waiting for Father Giovanni to come to the door.
 

As he stood waiting for the Father to see him, once again at his door he imagined the look of pity he would receive. Renzo hated to be pitied, admittedly it wounded his pride to be thought of as in need of help but the truth was he did need help and the Father was offering it for free.
 

Free. A price that doesn’t exist except from those who give without ever wishing to receive. After a minute he called out to Father Giovanni finding it very peculiar that he hadn’t answered the door within a matter of moments.
 

“FATHER???” Renzo’s voice rang out and sailed on the wind to those who could hear but not respond.
 

***
 

Sere shrieked at the cry that howled through the halls and seeped under the door. It sounded as if an unknown stranger were speaking to them from directly inside this room. How far underground were they for the wind to pass through so freely? She thought.
 

Taking no notice of the voice carried on the wind or even the words cried out, Sera turned back to Father Giovanni. The flow of blood that had seeped from the gash upon his forehead before had now congealed to a large sticky clot of red mass, sweat had begun to bead at his temples and the light in gentle green eyes had begun to dim. Sera was afraid that he would not survive this if she could not find a way out soon. Tearing a strip off of her underskirt she dabbed at the sweat that had trickled down his face. Moments later another cry rang out upon the wind, it faintly sounded like a voice shouting for someone. Scurrying over to the door that held no handle she pressed her ear to the gap under the door. “Father!” The wind cried.
 

Hope arose and Sera beamed at the thought of rescue, her only thought was that their captors did not return before their savior arrived. Or that said savior was the gentlemen which Father Giovanni had spoken of and whom which he did not wish to rescue us at all. Dismissing the thought that it was said gentlemen here to rescue them and brought the forethought that Father Giovanni needed immediate help, Sera screeched back at the top of her lungs to ensure that this stranger heard her, “HELP! WERE UNDER THE CHURCH! HEELLPPP!”
 

Footsteps clapped down the corridor, a hurried sprint of more than one came hurtling towards the door, their blundering if not careless footfalls were echoing off of the dank walls that smelt of damp and dripped stale water from the mold which had creeped up from floor to ceiling.
 

Scrambling to her knees Sera pushed one eye to the key whole to see who was coming for them. She noted a number of hooded figures dressed in sweeping robes of black which were tied at the waist with a brown leather belts that happened to hold a number of large knifes, scathes and torturous equipment. Their heads were hung low with hoods that enveloped their entire features from her sight, the leader was easily distinguished as he was in front carrying a large staff carved from a willow that swirled and circled and almost seemed at one with the bearer. At the top a plain white stone perched encircled by the branch protectively encased. Before she could cry out one last time to their savior a large black eye covered the key whole looking directly into her own emerald eyes. The scrutiny that bore down from the being pinned Sera in place as he pried open her mind to search her soul.

 

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