Serial Storytelling, in Paragraph Proportions - Fragment 11

I want him Father. Let me…

The half-spaces between waking and drifting where things sonorous and frightful came to murmur. Hours compressed. Umin slept.

Oh, the chime is ringling. Oh...

Awakening. To find the low, knotty-iron doorway wide and unhinged.

Umin glumly and suspiciously peers out into down-thick darkness, but for a distant pin-prick of soft-seeming fire that sets the vaulty black above to looming all the more profoundly, maliciously.

His motion towards the distant, gleaming signpost is practiced. The wary, cunning steps of a seasoned foot-pad.

Fragment 1  /  Fragment 2 / Fragment 3 / Fragment 4 / Fragment 5 / Fragment 6 / Fragment 7 / Fragment 8 / Fragment 9 / Fragment 10 / Fragment 11