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The dream had come again. A dark dream that did not happen in any linear form, but that seemed to be nothing but a series of violent images that flashed through Darius’ head and left him covered in sweat and unable to return to the realms of sleep once he had been torn from their depths. A flash of light along the edge of a sword, chairs scattered through the church as though a storm had blown the main doors open, and a spray of blood across one of the stone columns along each side of the chapel.
There had been other dreams in the past that had repeated night after night as this one did, and Darius had long ago come to realize that the only dreams that did that were the ones that had told him of the future. However, there had never been one that left him with this kind of strange sense of finality, and it told him that soon his time in this world would come to an end.
So this night, after sleep became impossible once again, Darius went to his desk and started to write.
To the person or persons responsible for my death,
I forgive you.
Darius.
He then made a cup of tea and spent the early morning sitting at his window, watching the stars slowly dim in the night sky.
There had been other dreams in the past that had repeated night after night as this one did, and Darius had long ago come to realize that the only dreams that did that were the ones that had told him of the future. However, there had never been one that left him with this kind of strange sense of finality, and it told him that soon his time in this world would come to an end.
So this night, after sleep became impossible once again, Darius went to his desk and started to write.
To the person or persons responsible for my death,
I forgive you.
Darius.
He then made a cup of tea and spent the early morning sitting at his window, watching the stars slowly dim in the night sky.
