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Vampire!Germany- HOPE - Chapter 8 Their boots clacked on the marble steps of the stairs as the pair made their way up. They had chosen the right path and arrived at the main staircases. Twists and turns of steps reached up to the ceiling which was no less than five times the height of the foyer. The white walls were decorated with intricate designs, carved into the painted stone. Scarce windows followed the paths of the many staircases, letting in the glow of the moonlight. Torches and candles flanked each window, adding more of an eerie glow to the limited light more so than actually lighting the way. A stone archway and another wooden door blocked the way to the entrance to each floor.
"Right," said Arthur after he snapped out of the awe of the stairs. "Let's go, I reckon that the lead vamp's on the top floor."
"All the way up there?" asked Feliciano, looking up. Arthur nodded. "But that's so far, and I'm getting tired and hungry." The vampire killer sighed and sa
Vampire!Germany- HOPE - Chapter 7 There was a soft creek as the gate lifted to reveal the brightly lit interior of the castle. It snapped in place and a dull thud resonated throughout the courtyard. Arthur replaced the book within the folds of this clothing as he admired his work. Feliciano was still staring at the place where he thought he had seen his once good friend.
"Oi, Feliciano," called the Keeper of the Book. "We better get a move on." He started walking inside. The brunet snapped out of his trance and nodded, following his mentor.
The main foyer walls of the castle were line with endless torches and candles. Wax dripped down from the older ones and solidified on the tiled floor below. A pair of white marble staircases started from the middle of the room and led in opposite directions. The ceiling was at least 10 metres high; no windows could be seen however. The walls were also painted white with murals, giving the impression of this holiness that the over
longdead leafa longdead leaf
burnt brown in the depth of green
cups a handful of fresh water
a leaf left behind
holds something of worth
forgoing death with its dead body
Poetic PsychosisIn thirty seconds, the next shell would fall. Every night was the same, but every night Lorenzo experienced it as if it were the first time. His throat felt swollen; breathing was hard. He glanced around at the others; young men like him who had been shipped out in the name of honour and freedom. There was no honour in this, no freedom. Only death behind your eyelids, and a fear so gutting, that it carved out your innards and left you a hollow husk. Lorenzo tried to breathe, tried to assure himself that he was still whole, still made of flesh. They had lied when they told him he was ready.
Matteo ran towards him, arms out, rifle swinging uselessly at his side. He shouted for him to run, but Lorenzo remained motionless, unable to move as his friend’s warning was lost in the constant blare of gunfire. None of them were ready.
“The cycle is repeating. It is not safe.” The voice was soft and weak, yet it carried over the gunfire and battle cries without impediment.
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