God's Pavilion - The Early Morning
Darkness peels away with the sound of a door creak. Light slowly peers into the room with a bright intensity, burning a brown color into the wooden table at the center of the room. A figure's silhouette at the door stands forebodingly, their mere presence swallowing any excess light into a void at the center of the universe. ‘Wake up, Henry. It’s past sunrise already’. A voice calls out to us. The voice is firm. The timbre is low and demanding. A totalitarian unison. No other object dare make another noise. Blinking away the drowsiness, the form moves from a shade of black and purple into a familiar face. The features slide into the calm yet furrowing brow. The dim shine of dark hazel eyes. The faux golden pin name tying the the hotel inn’s uniform together with an unimaginative approach towards professionalism, a white button up with accompanying black slacks. ‘You have ten minutes or that’ll be your 3 rd strike’, the voice affirms. “Yes, Ms. Alford”. Our voice is soft, but...