Sacred Mountain - Prologue and Chapter 1 (Updated)

Prologue

It’s been a year. I miss her more than anything.

I don’t know what I can do without her. I remember the tiny lilies that she would wear in her silky black hair. Her laugh, her smile, and the way she would bite her nails and how her sneezes always made me laugh. She smelt like peanuts, yet she said she had never eaten them before.

She lit my way on a stormy night. She taught me the ways of the world when I knew nothing. She made me smile when I felt like crying. She opened my eyes...

I was happy.

Please bring her back, I beg of you.

Chapter 1

I awoke with a start. Sitting up too fast; I felt the blood rush to my frozen feet. I recoiled, fighting the spinning of my head. My neck ached from sleeping in the wrong position. As I rubbed the sleep from my eyes, the familiar dangle of the chain fastened to my wrist chimed. The chain led to a small cement block in the wall. “It’s not like I have anywhere to go,” I barked at the wall.

Dreams still clung on to my mind. The latest one had been one of my strangest dreams yet. A man about eighteen – the same age as me – was sitting on a worn, grey lounge writing in a small book. He seemed to be reading to me what he was writing down, yet his lips didn’t move at all. Please bring her back, I beg of you.

I lay back down on the cold ground in an empty cell, awake yet sound asleep. I wasn’t tired but the eerie silences betrayed my mind, telling it to go back to sleep. The empty, stone walls that surrounded me told the stories of the many people who had been here before me.

I remember the green grass and the crystal blue lake…

Memories screamed at me. Memories longing for me to listen tugged at my mind, wanting to be heard. They sounded like tiny whispers, never ceasing in my ears. Memories that belonged to others, they were never my own. This also meant that I never really cared what was happening in the memories. She stepped forward. “I’m sorry,” She said painfully, slowly pulling a gun from her waist. I remember a single gunshot and -

I pulled away. It hurt my mind every time I broke the bond between it and a memory. Most objects had a memory attached to it, like a thick, black stain. If you were to touch the object, the memory would play in your mind like a movie, playing itself over and over again. Sometimes the memories had a visual component, others were just voices whispering in my ears.

It had to be years ago, when I first started hearing them. The voices. My mum thought I was crazy, I thought I was crazy. A twelve year old being able to hear voices wherever she went was a little too paranormal for my liking.

I think that’s where my obsession with music began. I realised that when listening to music, the voices stop. Like the headphones were my ears sound proof walls. So as I sat in this dank cell, without music, I could feel my sanity slipping away. The memories smacked at my mind like a never-ending drum roll and I could do nothing about it.

Each square of cold, grey wall around me, was filled with tiny markings each representing a single person. Some symbols include a rising sun, a heart smothered in blood and a sword enveloped in flames. They were only about two inches wide and each varying in quality.

The ground was the same cold stone as the walls and was very uncomfortable. Rough, dirty, and no matter where you sat, something would jab into your back. In the left corner was a small chisel. It looked old and forgotten, covered in spider webs and dust. The ground was painted in dried blood. Crimson streaked the stone walls. I could feel the screams embedded in the walls, they themselves feared the tortures that had occurred once before. No windows allowed any ray of sunlight in, and harsh, artificial lights covered the walls. It stank like death down here, of bitterness and forgotten dreams.

Glancing down at my hands, I cringed. Both were slashed and their only barrier against disease was the encrusting of dry blood.

Yesterday, I had been thrown into this cell without a word. The guards – enormous, muscle packed men wearing all black except for white masks – had said nothing despite my questioning. “When am I going to get out of here?” I asked the thin air.

“Probably never,” A voice said. I sat up, glancing around. No one. The silence returned to continue suffocating me. What the hell? The air isn’t supposed to answer! I used joke when I was younger, saying that I was a bit insane. Maybe it was true…

A cell nearby opened with a rusty squeal, there was scuffling, I guessed the prisoner was resisting the order to leave the cell. Silence. Soon after, two guards marched by, one was heavily built whilst the other was average height. My fear spiked. The larger guard was dragging a young man behind him. The smaller guard walked with pride, like nothing else mattered but himself. He glanced back, eyeing the prisoner distastefully. I shifted closer to the door to try and see the prisoners face.

The prisoner appeared right in front of me. His dark blue eyes searched my own for help. His face grew pale, filled with fear. His short blonde hair was dusty and chaotic.

“Raven, Raven you must help me,” He said quietly, looking at the oblivious guards who were speaking with the jailor. “They’re going to kill me,” he said emitting all of his fear into one sentence. Part of his hairline was bleeding profusely. Blood dripping down his face. I felt a familiar feeling rise up to my throat. The blood smelt like rust and salt. Sweat beads formed on my forehead. I was now hoping that I wasn’t going to throw up.

He did not want to die, I knew that. His eye pleaded for help, but they knew that there was no hope. They knew that a girl who was chained to a wall couldn’t help him.

The two masked guards came back, one grabbing hold of the prisoner by the shirt and began dragging him away. “Please kill me now,” He pleaded to the guards. The two of them looked at each other and laughed as though it was some kind of joke. The second guard was watching me like a hawk watching its prey; he bent down, our gazes locked. Green eyes glittered beneath the white mask. A small electric impulse rocked through me, I shrunk away from his gaze.

“I suggest you watch your back, Raven,” the guard taunted with a smile. He regained his formality then left without another word.

Once they all left, the prison was once again filled with a threatening silence. I laid back, looking at the graffiti covered roof. How did people get high enough to carve things there? Thousands of these small carvings covering almost every inch of stone.

I sat up and leaned forward, placing one hand on a tiny symbol. There was a memory clinging to the carving. Images flooded my mind. An old man, in his sixties, maybe, sat on the cold ground carving a small pair of glasses in the wall. A door opened in the distance. The man stood up. He knew that this was his time, he was almost happy. When his cell door opened, he did not ask for help nor did the guards drag him away. He held his head high and walked out to meet his fate. He walked up the stairs to find a person waiting for him; he was asked to follow them and obeyed willingly. He marched through a door to find –

I ripped my hand away. Yes, my gift was annoying at times, but sometimes it was interesting to see the lives of the people or objects around me. I didn’t want to know the rest of his story nor anyone else’s.

I glanced around. One patch of stone was empty and something made me want to draw a tiny symbol inside it. I could draw... a raven. Yes, a raven. I grabbed the discarded chisel from the corner and carved a small black bird into the cold wall. Only about four centimetres wide, the raven’s simplicity was divine. Wings outstretched, it would have glided through the air. Speed of an eagle, grace of a dove.

I lay back down on the very uncomfortable ground. I could feel the bugs and mice skittering round but i ignored them. My eyes slipped closed and I fell asleep.

I was running. The trees in front of me were distorted and haunting. But they were the only things that made me feel safe. Behind me were the things I feared most. I kept running, away from what, I was unsure. I wasn’t going to look back.

My car was parked on the other side of the road close to the beginning of the forest.

“Raven!”

I awoke to hear the jailor talking to someone – probably one of the guards again. Silence filled the jail for a moment.

At the door, appeared two guards. Fear sliced through my heart. They were here for me. One looked for the key to my cell, while the other stood there waiting impatiently. I crawled back to the wall, as far away as possible from the strange guards, when the cell door opened. The second guard stepped in and picked me up like a toothpick. With no effort I was in his arms and being carried out the cell door.

“I can walk, you know,” I informed him. The guard smelt like leather and metal. He was heavily built and very muscular. His unyielding, brown eyes looked into mine for a moment, deciding whether he should let me go or not. He lowered me to the ground softly.

“Thank you,” I said as we began walking towards the jail door. The jailor looked at me suspiciously. I wasn’t going to be forced out of this hell-hole, and I have the element of surprise if I’m standing.

At the jail door stood a middle-aged woman. She was very short and round. She would have only been about five-foot three. But she was scary all the same. Short blonde hair framed her chubby face. Her skin was wrinkled and coarse, like leather that had been left out in the blistering sun. Her blank blue eyes were filled with boredom and arrogance. Actually she looked quite angry.

“Hello, my name is Mary,” She drawled. “I’m here to ensure you are the right person, that you are actually supposed to be here, and that you go to the right place,” The jailor opened the jail door to reveal a shining light. Mary quickly stepped out of the smelly jail. I followed. As the sun hit my face for the first time in two days my eyes ached, I shut them the negative burnt just as much.

I opened my eyes. Sunlight hit my face, warming me up. I was outside. The cool breeze was marvellous. Glancing around, I could see a huge forest surrounding a large clearing. Thick and luscious, the forest was a rare thing to see back home.

In the middle of the clearing stood two enormous archways, they towered high above me. One was a haunting red, surrounded by fire. The ground surrounding it was permanently scorched. On the other hand, the other was a clean white. I could smell something weird. At first I thought it was gas or the smell of an angle grinder or sulphur. To one side of the clearing was a small, brown marquee.

“Welcome to Quadrivium,” Mary said, expressionless. She began walking over to a small desk underneath the faded brown marquee. Huge piles of paperwork surrounded the wooden desk. Along the ground were large trails of dried blood. Handprints of blood streaked across the dying grass.

“Where?” I asked, quickly following behind her. When we reached the table I could now see that the papers had hundreds of names printed on them. Beside some of the names were tiny red ticks.

“The Crossroads,” A tiny middle-aged lady appeared from behind the desk. She had the ugliest haircut I had ever seen in my life. Tiny golden strands of hair stuck up in every direction. It looked like she had attacked it with a pair of blunt shears. Her caring, round eyes were coloured a very bright blue. “I guess you have never heard of it, by the look on your face,” she had a bit of an Oklahoma accented voice. “My name’s Joanie.”

Joanie pulled at one of the large piles of papers, bringing it closer to her. “Okay, first things first, your dead,” She said straight out.

Huh?

“What?” I asked, shocked. Mary began to file through the large piles of paper like nothing had happened. I couldn’t be dead!

“Quite unfortunate, I know,” Joanie said blankly. “Now, your name?” Joanie asked, picking up a black ball point pen. I took a moment to actually register and understand what she was saying.

“Umm, Stephanie,” I replied. “What do you mean ‘dead’?” I was always a nice person to most people, what did I do to get myself killed?

A scream resonated in my head, I stepped back. I found that I had only stepped on a blood stain and that the scream was just a memory. My heart was still racing.

“Like deceased, passed away, gone to a better place, thank-god-she’s-gone-kind-of-dead,” She chuckled. “Last name?”

“Jones. But I didn’t die! The last thing I remember was,” I sifted through my memory. “Was...” The funny thing was I couldn’t actually remember. Random images floated through my head as I tried to remember. A book that was filled with drawings... Mine no doubt. “Umm we don’t have a Stephanie Jones, we do have a Raven Jones,” Joanie said joyfully.

“Oh yeah, that’s me. Stephanie is a bit of a nickname of sorts,” Joanie gave me a blank look.

“So yeah, sorry about the wait, Raven,” She emphasised my name, strangely. “We had a bus crash, which wasn’t exactly planned,” She added with spite. “And you know how it is with bus crashes, students are very annoying when they are dead,” She said with a small chuckle.

“Uh, okay?” This woman was literally crazy!

“You will be going to...” She looked through her papers. The smile left her face, it was now replaced with a look of... fear? She leaned over and whispered in Mary’s ear. They exchanged looks, glanced at me then continued muttering to themselves. A decision was made between Joanie and Mary. Joanie stood up, brushed her black skirt and began walking towards the large amount of doors.

“Raven!”

I whirled around at the sound of my name to see the prisoner being dragged by two guards toward the two large archways. The red archway seemed to burn much brighter now that Luke was nearby.

“Raven!” He screeched. The guards were dragging him toward the immense red archway. He struggled so hard that he was almost equal in strength to the two guards. He would kick at the guards and swear at them, even tried to persuade them to let him go.

“Raven, help me!” He screamed. The guards pushed him just inside the burning archway. Fire instantly enveloped his whole body, releasing a blood-curdling scream to slip from his lips. My ears cried out for mercy and a stab of guilt entered my mind. He stood there for a moment then turned to dust. His scream radiated through the forest, echoing for what seemed like miles. A huge gust of sulphur scented wind whirled past me. I coughed.

Joanie stood beside me looking unfazed. “Come on, your late already,” she continued leading me towards the ‘Staff only’ door. The words were written in red spray paint and very roughly written.

Another screech sounded from behind me, a woman’s scream. “Why don’t you react to that? The screams?” I asked. I tried my best to ignore the screams coming from behind me.

“After working here as long as I have, you begin to get used to it, especially from the ones who are sent into the red archway,” She bowed her head.

“The red one is Hell, isn’t it?” I asked looking back just as a woman turned to dust. She just seemed to dematerialize. A shiver went up my spine.

“That’s what humans call it; we refer to it as Tartarus,” she pointed out. She picked up the pace and stopped when we reached the ‘Staff Only’ door. “You know what, I see potential in you. I know that sounds strange coming from a person you just met,” She pulled open the door, which squealed in defiance. “But something about you makes me think that there are some of us who really know what they are doing.”

I gave her a blank look. This lady was saying I had potential and it was flying in one ear and out the other.

“What am I saying? You’ll be fine,” She said with a smile. I weakly smiled back.

Something about this door made me uncomfortable. Very uncomfortable. This door and the other doors in the clearing looked exactly the same, but this door’s aura was strangely warm compared to this whole place. The door’s memories were not of horror but of hope. My gut told me that whatever was behind that door was going to shake up my whole life completely.

“I hope you fit right in, my dear,” Joanie said, pushing me through the door. My dream whispered in the back of my mind. Please bring her back, I beg of you...