Golden Box Book Publishing GBBP Magazine, July, 2017 | Page 14

“Mierta!” Mortain shouted at
the top of the stairs, hearing
nothing but his own voice
echo.
Watching smoke drifting out
of the open doorway, Mortain
took in a deep breath and tried
to slow down his heart. The
aroma of acrid chemicals and
burning flesh filled his nose.
“Mierta!” he shouted again.
“Son, you all right?” He
listened, hearing nothing more
than what sounded like
gasping breaths.
“Father,” Mierta mouthed in
response to Mortain’s calls,
unable to produce any sounds
as he dropped to one knee.
His heart was pounding. Each pulse matched the ache he felt in his
temples. A deep burning pain seared through his chest every time
he took a breath. It was like he was slowly being strangled and
there was nothing he could do to stop it. The inside of his nose felt
charred and his throat felt like he was swallowing tacks. He
blinked, his eyesight blurring, the pain beginning to overwhelm
him. Nausea built in his throat and droplets of sweat slid down the
side of his face. He wished he could do anything to end the
torture. He could not imagine dying would be much worse.
Mierta attempted to stand and tried to get away from the
workbench. He managed a few staggering steps before his body
was drained of all energy. He watched puffy white circling clouds
fill his vision before everything was replaced by darkness.
Mortain felt his stomach drop at the sound of something breaking.
“Mierta!” he screamed, racing down the stairs. “Mierta, answer
me!”
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