AN (5/31)-Well, I wasn't planning on having a prologue...but then again, I didn't plan on ending my other story so abruptly...so, here it is. I know it seems really odd, and doesn't make any sense, but remember, this is the prologue.
Prologue:Spiders (AKA The Chapter Entirely Devoted to Daisy)
"I hate spiders," a harried voice whispered, vibrating the fine, yet relatively strong, fibers of a web. The occupant of the fine workmanship, a spider about the size of the tip of a man's thumb, was holding onto the web for dear life. The figure who'd whispered such negative sentiments was busy concentrating on a web to his left, carefully taking the candle grasped in his weather beaten hands and lighting the web he was surveying. A large grin visible in the brief period of intense light as the dry web burned, he gallantly strode forward, right into another web. The poor spider, trying to hold to its home with all of its strength, was knocked onto the shoulder of the crabby figure as he tried to struggle his way out of the web, much like the efforts of a fish caught in a net. Fortunately for the man, but unfortunately for the spider, he was very strong and escaped with little but sticky threads on his cheeks as his arms flailed about and released the grip the web had on him.
The spider, anxious to leave the presence of this man, gingerly started climbing off the shoulder. It hadn't ever seen a human before, living its relatively short life in the cellar of an abandoned building. For as long as any of the spiders residing here could remember, this building hadn't been used. Ancient chairs with rotting wood were the perfect place to string large webs across, as the insect supply in the fairly damp room was more than ample to sustain the population of about thirty or so spiders at any given moment. The spider had nearly reached the end of the man's rather dirty shirt, preparing to make a large jump once it reached his fleshy hand. As one of its eight legs touched the tanned skin of whatever human it was riding on, the fairly stable arm started whipping back and forth.
"I've got a bloomin' spider on me!" the figure wailed as he moved his hands up and down more violently. As the spider was in the process of being dislodged, the rather nervous man blew his candle out and was stung by the hot wax as it fell to the floor. His left hand, on which the spider was now desperately trying to stay attached to, ran into one of the ancient chairs, causing it to fall over. All manner of insects began moving as their home hit the floor.
A figure in front of the other whirled around, a nasty frown on his chapped lips. "Ye ingrate! Shut yer bloody mouth, or someone will hear us!" The frightened movement of the other stopped as the one who'd just spoken stepped forward, grabbing the offending arm and squishing the spider with his thumb. "They're jus' spiders. No' goin' t' do anythin' to you," the man said rather nastily as he rubbed the insides of the now dead spider on the other man's cheeks. "How many times d' I 'ave t' tell ye to keep quiet? We can't get anythin' done if someone knows we be 'ere."
The other man gulped silently, fearing his leader's wrath. "Sorry," he mumbled, looking down towards the floor. He didn't really know why he'd agreed to follow the other man down into this abandoned house. The aura outside of the building was enough to make the hair on the back of the neck stand on end. Even in the fading sunlight, it had seemed to cast a spell of foreboding upon anyone who looked at it. The walls were composed of once white stones that were now slowly being cracked by the creeping vines surrounding it. It gave the illusion of being a haunted building, and the man was trembling slightly as they reached the other side of the room.
As his companion knocked on what appeared to be the wall, the other man glanced about in the very dark room, wishing he hadn't blown his candle out. He wasn't very superstitious, mind you, but he was rather alarmed at what was going on. In his twenty five years of experience, it wasn't the best idea to meet up with someone in conditions like this-absolute secrecy and in an abandoned building. Subconsciously, his hand went to his pistol as the wall opened up, almost as if by magic. There was an unseen door there, that creaked wearily as it moved forward. Shivering slightly, the man followed his leader into the dark abyss, wondering what sort of meeting was going to take place.
The light of the solitary candle flickered in the stone archway as the men began slowly descending a spiral staircase, littered with the faint outlines of spider webs. One almost felt like breathing was prohibited, subconsciously holding each breath until nearly exploding. Their footfalls echoed eerily in the tightly confined space, and the man without a lit candle felt his apprehension growing and growing with each downward step. He was half tempted to say something, anything, to his companion in an attempt to thwart the sense of foreboding, but he knew his companion wouldn't take kindly to anything said.
Finally the pair reached another door, and the surly older man knocked on it in a peculiar pattern. It opened with a large screech, sounding almost like ten thousand bats leaving their cave for the night, eager to begin making a dent in the insect population. They both walked into the large room.
Careful not to swear too loudly, the man without the lit candle looked around, blinking as his eyes adjusted to the high amounts of light in the spacious room. As his grayish-blue eyes did adjust, his lower jaw dropped in amazement, revealing several gold teeth and many foul, rotting teeth that would soon need replacement. The room was one of astonishment, especially after the trouble of getting to it. Fine silks were draped across the al frescoed walls which were faintly tinted a shade of canary. Romanesque architecture, including great pillars of white marble, were balanced perfectly across the whole room. The focal point was undoubtedly the picture of a emerald encrusted pentagon in the center of the room. Inside the rather large pentagon was the faint outline of a half man, half horse. The intensity of the centaur's emerald eyes seemed to draw the gaze of everyone within the room. One could almost believe that the stones in the eyes weren't actually cold, hard precious gems; but rather, one thought they were actual eyes, seeing everything going on in the curious room. After more surveillance, one could notice that the room was definitely pentagon shaped, as well.
After a quick jab from his companion, the rather tall man shut his mouth and carefully looked towards the chair in the exact center of the room. There was a man sitting there, with long robes that flowed regally onto the marble floor, looking almost like a fine velvet rug in Buckingham Palace. As the tall man tried to examine this new figure more closely, he was struck by how evil the man seemed. Though his face wasn't visible, due to a rather large hood, one could tell he was staring directly at both of them with a malicious look to his face. The tall man followed his rather squat companion towards the chair, his feelings of apprehension showing plainly on his rather squarish features. He really had no idea what to expect, for the squat leader with his dirty blonde hair had said nothing as to the reason they had come here.
"Does he have it?" the man in the robes asked, his voice sounding harsh and not natural, as if he were trying to mask it with his vocal chords. He turned his hooded head towards the squat man, the eyes inside almost glowing and faintly visible from reflected light.
The squat man nodded. "Yes, sir, 'e does. Saw it wiv me own eyes." Licking his foul lips, he coughed. "And wha' exactly do I 'ave t' do next?"
It was obvious that the man wearing the hood was smiling as he said, "Well, I think it is time we initiate the second part of the plan." His rather long fingers deftly moved about in his long robes, withdrawing a small piece of paper. He handed it to the squat man. "Wait until the opportune moment to give it to him."
The squat man eagerly nodded, as if trying to prove he was capable of such a thing. "I will, sir."
The tall man watched the interchange curiously, wondering why he'd even been brought along. He was soon to find out, however, as the hooded man turned his gaze to him.
"You've done as I asked," the man in the robes hissed. One could tell that the smile on his face had grown much more sinister by the way his voice sounded.
The squat man nodded. "Of course I did, sir." He pulled out his gun and pointed it at his companion. Quickly cocking it, he growled, "Now go to the center of the room."
The tall man glanced between the very persuasive tip of the gun and his supposed friend's face. "Why?" he asked plaintively as he moved to the center of the room. "All I've e'er been is a friend, M-" he was cut off as the gun went off and the bullet hit him directly in the forehead.
A slight scowl to his face as the tall man hit the floor, the squat man turned to face the hooded figure. "'E was always annoying. It was me pleasure t' bring 'im 'ere."
The hooded man laughed cruelly and waved his arm. "Thank you, faithful servant. I do not require any more assistance." His hand almost knocked over a fine marble statue of the same centaur that was inside the emerald encrusted pentagon. It had the same emerald eyes. However, as the squat man left and the hooded man stood, the emerald eyes of both the statue and the carving seemed to turn red.
As the squat man quickly shut the door and began heading up the stairs, the hooded man descended upon the body. The flickering torches abruptly went out as a foul wind filled the five sided room. The only light came from the carving and statue of the centaur, a crimson sort of light. The faint outline of the mysterious hooded man could be seen next to the body, and in a few short hours, there was nothing left but bones.