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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1544562-The-Winds-Of-Grief---Chapter-One
Rated: 13+ · Chapter · Action/Adventure · #1544562
A normal guy caught up in a sinister series of events leading him into darkness
Chapter one

Walking along the silent street, Mark came to a halt before a towering structure stretching from the ground until it almost dipped into the clouds. It was like a second moon which was turning restlessly in its sleep. Such a bizarre structure, lit up like an elegant Ferris Wheel in the night’s sky, spinning slowly in a circle over and over to the distant sounds of the daily London traffic. Without a sound Mark rushed past the millennium wheel towards the simmering shadows below the lights of London.

Mark didn’t give it a second thought before plunging his head in to the river. His mind as wild as fire could not be extinguished by the sudden cold rush he felt as his head went under the water. He pulled his head out shaking uncontrollably whispering under his breath,
“Oh my god, OH MY GOD”
His mind was confused with poison. Mark kept asking himself questions. Why does that thing exist? Why does he feel more like a monster than before? Why is God putting him in this much pain? He brushed back his long black hair shaking himself off as he slumped against a wall. His green restless eyes looked out across the waters edge while he closed his mind and breathed heavily on his hands. He needed to calm down. He never should have acted with so much violence.

He walked back towards the waters edge and knelt down to twirl the silky substance which the moon had revealed. He didn’t want to go back and see Katharine. All he wanted in the whole world was to be with her now but, because of what happened that night, he doubts he could ever see her again. Mark had been friends with Katharine for only a couple of weeks and now his love for her has brought doom to the city. He suddenly lashed out at the wall, smashing his right hand forcing dust to burst out at his face. He scrambled around, swiping at his face with ever aggressive movement. Never could he have seen, in his blind rage, a pair of dark black eyes looking at him from the darkness. Never could he have seen this dark figure glide towards him, razing up a glittering sharp object, which looked ready to strike the moon red. 
© Copyright 2009 M.S. Davies (zarathas at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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