04-21-2014, 03:30 PM
Face nearly hidden behind thick bands of hair, Eli turned toward her. She was nearly as tall as he, though she were cut from curves his plank-like body lacked. His leanness was either that of the creatures that scuttled from the light when its rock was disturbed, or he was long used to battling illness of unspecific causes, or perhaps a little of both. His rock had been disturbed, and what was revealed was none too pleased.
The question itself - do you believe in monsters? - he took seriously: a narrowing of eyes, the curl of contemplation. He believed in heaven and hell, and the monsters that sprang from both. He believed in God and creation, and the inherent devilry in both. Monsters that lurked beneath the bed? Or lept from the closet?
His reply was sincere, but muddled. "I believe there is an explanation for everything."
What made her ask, he wondered. He had to guess her heritage prompted the question. The Indians had a legend for everything under the sun, including the sun itself. "Do you believe in monsters?"
Despite the gentility of his tone, there was a flicker within the black rims of his eyes that suggested perhaps she'd found one?
The trance-like connection warping Eli's view was interrupted by another. The Guardian was not a popular stop on the metro, and this station in particular was rife with tales of haunts and horror. Men leaping onto the tracks to escape the bondage of psychological incarceration, splattered on the rails right in front of them, and cursed to remain in an eternal train station. The Guardian boasted such horrors and more, Eli discovered in his reading about the institute. The man who joined them, easily of an age of Eli's dad, was also American. Days in Moscow and now three of them all waiting at the same platform.
He shared a look with the girl, then relayed the news onward like any good samaritan. "Delayed."
The question itself - do you believe in monsters? - he took seriously: a narrowing of eyes, the curl of contemplation. He believed in heaven and hell, and the monsters that sprang from both. He believed in God and creation, and the inherent devilry in both. Monsters that lurked beneath the bed? Or lept from the closet?
His reply was sincere, but muddled. "I believe there is an explanation for everything."
What made her ask, he wondered. He had to guess her heritage prompted the question. The Indians had a legend for everything under the sun, including the sun itself. "Do you believe in monsters?"
Despite the gentility of his tone, there was a flicker within the black rims of his eyes that suggested perhaps she'd found one?
The trance-like connection warping Eli's view was interrupted by another. The Guardian was not a popular stop on the metro, and this station in particular was rife with tales of haunts and horror. Men leaping onto the tracks to escape the bondage of psychological incarceration, splattered on the rails right in front of them, and cursed to remain in an eternal train station. The Guardian boasted such horrors and more, Eli discovered in his reading about the institute. The man who joined them, easily of an age of Eli's dad, was also American. Days in Moscow and now three of them all waiting at the same platform.
He shared a look with the girl, then relayed the news onward like any good samaritan. "Delayed."