In the deep of night, there is silence that swallows up the air.
A tight-lipped kiss of the wind breaking up the glass window. City lights peeking in through the cracks of his concrete solitude. The sound spinning around his head as vices of his dead grow louder in the utterance of his name. Pointing him in a direction to a blood red field just beyond the mountain, separated by towering white walls.
The fields of innocent blood and rattling of chains, the patters of hooves clacking on the cobblestone, the sloshing of rope trailing through the mud, the panting of breath frantically heaving with restrained whimpers as the boy is pinned down to the ground. His head clasped and reared to watch as his sister's flower is mutilated.
Plucked like unripened fruit.
The faces of men and women surrounding them as they lash him and burn her. Muddled waters of crimson spewing about her lifeless body as a fury rises within him. A beast into form created by the unjust cruelty of his oppressors. Rewarding them with the gift they so much desired. He reaches out and transforms... awakening in the night.
Searching for the glasses on his plush platform bed, wife asleep in their child's arms.
Reaching out as his pasty hand takes focus.
J.R.H