Hi everyone, it’s been a while since I’ve uploaded anything to the blog. I really thought work would ease up with the deadlines but they got more and more pressing, and before I knew it, two years had passed me by. Now that they have eased up, I wanted to get back to it using this new series of posts that I’m going to describe below.
This series is going to include a story based on and using the first sentence from a book that I pick at random.
What better book to start with than the Harry Potter series which dominated much of my childhood. The following are the specifics of the line I’ve chosen.
Line– They call it the Dementors’ Kiss
Book – Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Askaban
Series – Harry Potter
Book Number – 3
Chapter – The Patronus
Page – 183
The red was all she could see, everything else fading to a dull grey in the background. Ever since her childhood, it was the only colour that would set her on edge, reminding her of the vivid red of the velvet encased book her grandfather had owned, the one she had sworn never to touch.
Distant yelling brought her back to her senses and she turned to face her informant, his doe eyes sparkling at her, telling her to follow him without further delay. It was ironic how innocent he looked, considering he was one of the most skilled mercenaries she had ever known.
Shaking her head to get rid of her thoughts, she covered her nose with the red kerchief and followed the smell of rotting flesh further into the tunnel.
The sight that met her would turn the stomachs of even the best crime investigators, but she only wrinkled her nose at the two bodies thrown in various definitions of disarray.
Taking a deep breath in, and regretting it immediately after, she raised her eyes upward where a shelf housed numerous books, meticulously kept clean, in complete contradiction of the scene on the floor. Her senses tingled with a feeling she quickly quelled and she turned around to face her companion with a quick nod.
He took his cue to tip his head, doe eyes still sparkling and slink into the shadows to hide, erasing himself from her senses.
Once he was completely shielded, she cracked her neck, bending it in several uncomfortable jerks before a hiss left her mouth.
A sniff signified her transformation was complete, only then did I dare to step out of the shadows. Hee slightly inclined head indicated her recognition of my presence, bringing out a smirk on her pale lips that I didn’t need to see to confirm.
People say that insanity is a feeling no one has been able to describe. I think it is the exact moment her blood red eyes meet mine and my body ceases to be under my control. There she stands before me in her red dress, the surroundings faded to a dull grey, tormenting me across the barrier of time.
As she gets closer, my eyes beg her to stop as I feel my body seize and my voice scream as her fangs pierce the skin of my lips, her favoured place to drink the liquid that keeps her alive.
As my body gets weaker my ears start to ring, as the mercenary steps out from the shadows and begins the task of moving the portal, ensuring that the brutal murder covers up the scent of blood from another time. He tsks as he prepares to move the portal to a new location for another feeding in a few months.
As colour bleeds back into my eyes, I return to my faculties, my throat protesting at the rawness of having screamed at my torture, the straitjacket barely stretched even through the twitching and thrashing of my arms.
“The attacks have no pattern, we can’t complete the diagnosis.”, I hear the doctors proclaim outside my cell as I recall the red velvet diary I uncovered five years ago at a site I researched.
“They call it a dementors’ kiss“, I whispered as black bled into my vision.