Tuesday, January 3, 2017

100 Words a Day 988

The doors of the Obsidian Cathedral swung shut silently behind her, booming when they came together. The interior was distorted by a haze of acrid smoke, issuing from brass braziers scattered about. She surveyed the room. The walls were covered in an oily film and the murals were darkened by black ash. The monks were hidden behind great panels of wood, stained with the black blood of their deceased brethren. The only evidence of their presence was the unceasing murmurations of their infernal chanting.


“Come and face me!” she shouted. Her challenge echoed through the cathedral, silencing the sonorous chant.

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