Heart pounding, Cynthia crept to the door. She took a deep breath, steeling herself before yanking it open.
Violet light flooded inside. She stood in the glow, staring up into the evening sky where lightning glimmered behind the lumpy lobes of churning clouds. Any other time, the bizarre cloud formations alone would have been striking, but she stared at what was revealed in the pulse of sheet lightning.
A man hovered in the sky.
He hung limp as if asleep, a hundred yards above the street, slowly descending. She watched in dumbstruck awe when he lowered to the ground as though by some invisible cord, finally collapsing on the cold asphalt of the street.
Rain fell as if awaiting that moment, an instant downpour that soaked Cynthia to the skin. Her feet moved of their own accord, ignoring the fear that paralyzed the rest of her. The liquescent roar of the deluge drowned out all other sounds as she drew closer, kneeling to touch the man with a trembling hand. He rolled over at her touch, looking up with irises that glowed like purple flames.
She gasped, but not from the oddity of his eyes. She knew him, every contour of his face. A face nearly as familiar as her own. She gasped.
“Michael?”
A chorus of raucous caws exploded from the trees. Ravens flew from the branches, whirring around Cynthia and Michael in cyclonic formations, until there was nothing visible except obsidian eyes and ebony feathers.
Cynthia clutched Michael to her, squeezing her eyes shut as though the action would will the unnatural birds away. The sound of throaty cries and beating wings was nearly deafening. Her hair flailed across her face from the wind they created. And in that moment, she knew. As surely as a vision of the future, she knew.
She knew that Michael would kill her.
Enjoy Torment of Tantalus?
Thanks for checking out this installment of the Aberration series. I’d love to keep writing these novels, but I need just a little help from you. Reviews help a great deal in spreading the word, which in turn helps sell more books. Which in turn allows me to keep writing. It doesn’t have to a long process: a simple 3–4 sentence review at the site of your purchase can work wonders. Thanks again for reading, hope you stick around for the next installment.
All the best,
— BC
About the Author
Bard Constantine lives in Birmingham, Al with his wife and his unrestrained imagination. When not handling ‘real world stuff’ he’s usually found in a dank basement pounding his keyboard under the watchful eye of a vindictive muse. Although his claims of sanity appear authentic, such statements are currently under meticulous investigation by the Department of Mental Health. Additional information can be retrieved at http://bardwritesbooks.com.