Genre(s): N/A
Rating: N/A
fanfiction(s): South of Nowhere
Character(s): N/A
Number of Comments: None
Words: 1181
Story Shortlink: https://lesfan.com/?p=23220

Author Notes:

 
“I’ll guess we’ll see if it’s true or not” Anne said, a little freaked out by Verrine obsession with ancient religion.

“Well if it’s true about the blood suckers, then why not the Asmodeus ?” Verrine questioned.

“Your taking this a little to far Bro” Thomas chuckled, “you need to get a new hobby”

“I’m leaving on Friday if any of you change your mind, look out Rome..I’m coming home” chugging back his sixth coffee of the night, Verrine left his two roommates and sister for the rest of the night.  

Hiding himself in his latest book that smelt like mothballs and mold, he highlighted a passage that caught his attention, then looked at the map. Circling his destination, thought unmarked for years and never seen or spoken about, he bit down on his bottom lip as his imagination stole the better of himself. The next few day he mapped out where he would be, how he would get in and what he would do. Over looking the underground map of the Vatican City, he precisely marked out his movements and wrote down the tour times. Looking at the time and waiting for a taxi, he checked his cell to see if anyone had called. Turning off his cell as he climbed into the cab, his thoughts where of what he might find. Was it fact or fiction? Either way his new lust for the truth drove him to the once place he could find the answers. 

Waiting in line surrounded by the naive and the depraved, Verrine snubbed a woman who asked him for money and pushed himself to the front of the line.

“Come on already” he huffed and checked his watch. Startled by the loud cries that echoed out, he shook his head as he was pushed through the corridors.

“Finally” he smiled as he passed a guard and fallowed the group like a zombie. 

Uninterested to what the tour guide has to say as he kept looking for the markings on the walls as the tour carried on, he began to think this was just another hoax as the two tour came to an end.

“Your kidding me, right?” He hissed, then came to a standstill seeing the painting covering the door by the entrance.

“I should have known that” he smiled the angel right in the eye. Then looked to his left, then right as he backed away from the group slowly.

“Sir, umm sir” a guard came at him as passerby blended him in with the group. With a blink of an eye he slipped between the walls and stumbled to fall on his ass.

“Fuck” he chuckled breathing heavily and looked down the dark hall. 

Picking himself up off the floor and took the meglight out of his bag, he looked for the concert angel that would lead him to his wonderment. Fallowing the dusty path as the hallways grew smaller and darker, he continued to wind and tunnel further down. Sweating and deprived of oxygen, he tripped over his own feet sending his meglight rolling into the centre of the circled room. He covered his mouth looking at the face that seemed to be snarling back at him. He rubbed his eyes before crawling to his feet and crept into the room. Looking at their faces over 6,000 years old as they slept in the depths of hell un-awaken and unaware of the world above them. His curious mind touching everyone of them, each one captured in a porcelain tome. He took out his lighter and lit each candle as he circled the stone room.

“Un-fuckng believable” he whispered, his breath now chilled to ice. He sat himself in the middle of the room and stared at their faces as if they were old friends. He pulled out his book and reread about everyone of the men that were layed to rest. Falling upon the encrypted text that caught his eye earlier. He stood to his feet as he read out loud from the book. Turning back the clock of time and awoke the un-dead, calling upon them, name by name they breathed in the dust of their own death and inhaled the scent of which they craved. 

“Gaap, Leonard, Samael, Xaphan” he chanted their songs, calling them to his wonderment. 

Resurrecting hell’s angels, his sinister smile beaming with pride, Verrine called upon the ancient brothers.  

“Come to me” he ordered dropping the book, his hands rising above his head as the walls around him started to crumble. The songs of voices echoing off the golden walls hitting him in vibrations, enthralling his senses as he watched each of them descend from their slumber. 

“Come to me” he ordered as black ash fell around him and the floor under his feet gave way to his screams, bounding himself to his own personal hell.