The Red Cross of Gold I:. the Knight of Death
“The Knight of Death @page { margin-bottom: 5.000000pt; margin-top: 5.000000pt; } Chapter Eight of Twelve Let their eyes be darkened, that they see not “I refuse to eat that, my son. I don’t care if I do starve to death,” Mark told the ragamuffin who had brought him a roasted rat on a spit. The sight of it sickened him even though his stomach was glued to his backbone. His eyes flew open and he stared into the face of the Apocalyptic Knight who sat on the surface of the desk in front of him. “He...llo?” He waved one hand in front of the man’s face. He seemed to be in some sort of trance. The tall man blinked and then focused his dark eyes on Mark’s face.
“You are starving for the Truth,” the man told him again.
“The truth is I am starving for a steak,”
Mark corrected him. The memory of the three days and nights spent hiding in the catacombs with an infected wound in his side was another one that he wished he could have forgotten forever. He shuddered. Sadly enough, he clearly remembered recanting his statement and eating the rat within a few short hours of making the declaration.MoreLess
“You are starving for the Truth,” the man told him again.
“The truth is I am starving for a steak,”
Mark corrected him. The memory of the three days and nights spent hiding in the catacombs with an infected wound in his side was another one that he wished he could have forgotten forever. He shuddered. Sadly enough, he clearly remembered recanting his statement and eating the rat within a few short hours of making the declaration.MoreLess
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