Now, the English version of the prologue is on.
Some of you already know that besides the comic book, I’m writing Innocence as a book too.
While the pilot comic production is almost at the end, I give you the opportunity of reading the prologue of the story.
Below you may check the text which has been written for many times, but don’t worry: the main idea is there and this I won’t change anymore.
Have a good reading!
Note: In case you wish to follow the comic, the text below shall contain major spoilers
Note 2: This is a fiction, but some readers may find its content disturbing. This is recommended for mature readers.
PROLOGUE – KYRIE ELEISON
Genres: Fiction, Horror, Terror, Drama
The girl was confused.
She couldn’t tell where she was; the environment around her was blurred and surrounded by the penumbra. All she could distinguish were three small yellow and shiny dots located in front of her, which appeared to dance in a cadenced rhythm. There was also the touch feeling. She was shoeless and thus, she could feel her feet freezing over the cold granite floor.
When she noticed the cold sensation, she trembled. Her eyes were almost blind by the darkness, having only the three lights ahead as a guide like the old lighthouses for the ships. The girl tried to touch something around her, and in this endeavor, she had success, for it seemed to her that, she touched something made of wood. In a quick sensorial examination, she concluded that what she touched was a kind of bench.
A bit more confident for this little discover, she tried a step forward towards the lights, and then another, and another one, and so successively. At each step, the images around her would becoming clear. She found that the three lights were part of a candlestick. While she moved, she could hear some voices chanting in a choir for repeated times: “Kyrie Eleison, Christe Eleison, Kyrie Eleison”.
“Who’s there?” she asked frightened. She turned to both sides searching for these sounds, but could only find the emptiness. Then she heard a deep voice, coming from the direction of the lights.
“Come closer, girl”.
Even more scared by the deepness of this new voice, she turned herself again in the direction of the candles. Fearfully she approached slowly. Now the rest of the images were clearer; the candles were over what could be a church altar. Besides the candlestick there was a golden cross, a book (probably a Bible), and chalice with golden adornments. Below all these objects laid a fancy red cloth with also golden details on its edges.
The girl didn’t say a word but halted in front of the altar. She didn’t even blink, merely controlling her breathing while trying to distinguish who was the figure hidden in the shadows. The man also remained silent, just looking at the girl. On the contrary, by his turn, he could distinctly see her: a little thin girl around her ten years, wearing a dirty blue dress. Her hair was smooth and beautiful despite the messiness of it. The faint illumination obfuscated its brown color but if there was something that could call one’s attention, were her shining green eyes, which now demonstrated uneasiness and fear.
The man behind the shadows took and raised the candlestick. Therefore, with this, the girl could see that he was smiling. She also recognized one of the priests that took care of the institution where she lived: the Christian orphanage. In truth, this was the place’s main responsible priest, now easily recognizable by the great silver crucifix on his chest.
“Father Thomas?” she stammered when she recognized him.
“Kneel, my child”, he said while landing again the candlestick on the table.
She obeyed and remained in that position: prostrated behind the altar. In this moment the voices that were singing the Kyrie Eleison, were slowly becoming silent.
“Kyrie Eleison, Christe Eleison, Kyrie Eleison”, recited Father Thomas – “Do you know what this means, child?”
She nodded and said in a thin voice.
“It means, Lord have mercy, Christ have mercy, Lord have mercy.”
Father Thomas grinned before this answer. Yes, the girl was correct.
“Very well my child. I can see that you learned correctly. That’s the right question” – then he made a pause and continued – “And why do you ask for forgiveness to the Highest Lord, child?”
The girl seemed to be in a kind of trance. On her knees, she didn’t even feel the hardness of the floor on them. Her only reaction was to rub her hands as a way to warm herself or maybe it was a sign of jitter. Every time she talked, a thin layer of smoke came out of her mouth due the coldness. Again the once chant, executed by the invisible voices started again in a low tune, but still audible.
Now she blinked her eyes a little bit confused by the Father question. She tried to give the most obvious answer.
“I wasn’t asking for forgiveness, I was just answering your question, Father Thomas.”
His smile disappeared.
“Wrong answer, child, wrong answer. You ask for forgiveness because you’re a sinner. Now tell me, which sin did you commit?
Even more confused by the priest answer, she started to justify her saying.
“But I just…” – However, she couldn’t finish her sentence. The priest abruptly raised his hand as a sign for her stop speaking. Then, on the following second, he took again the candlestick on his left hand and raised over his head. The light shined on a Christ figure notched on a wooden cross behind the priest.
“Do you see it?” he said. “Remember that he sees you and that one day you’ll have to answer for your acts before him”.
“But I did nothing, Father, I swear!” she replied in a crying voice.
“Is that so?” the Father spoke in a severe tone at same time he lowered the lights to a lower height and walked towards the girl – “All of us sin, my daughter. Even you, being a little woman, carry the sin inside you.”
Still on her knees, the girl glanced the Priest coming closer. Meanwhile, the chant was still being intoned: Kyrie Eleison, Christ Eleison, Kyrie Eleison.
“I did nothing!” she shouted.
He didn’t utter a word, but just steadily touched her shoulders with his free hand, sliding it to her face. The other hand put the candlestick on the floor. The girl was paralyzed, incapable of any reaction. She came out from a trance to fall in another.
“F-father, what are you doing?” she asked frightened. Her mind couldn’t understand what was happening nor why Father Thomas was acting on that way. She tried to disentangle herself, but he pushed her to the floor.
Even before she could do any reaction, there she was, lying and totally at that man’s will, who now was holding her thin arms with more strength and causing a bit of pain. Terrified, she glanced to the priests face and what she saw, left her even more in panic.
His face was now completely different. His features were very severe and hardened, while his eyes were goggled and seemed to be on fire. The face, which normally was serene, now showed wrath, in a diabolic tone. Dark shapes apparently came out from his back taking the form of horrible black wings made of smoke.
“You really didn’t do anything, child?” he spoke in a weird and short-winded voice. Then suddenly, after he said these words, his face showed an expression of deep sadness.
For a very long time they remained in these positions: she was lying on the floor with the priest very close, mindfully eying her and with his two hands on her face. It was if a snake was enthralling the pray just a moment before the lunge. Her body was in pain and the Father’s weight hurt her more. Besides that, the floor was colder than before. The girl’s mind was trying to understand the situation, but she couldn’t think in anything else. It was as if something was blocking her thoughts as well as her senses, or it was as if many messy and confused scenes were passing just in front of her.
“Why… my child?” suddenly he broke the silence in a paused voice. What did.. you… do… to… me? – His voice was even more sad and melancholic. Then he turned a bit his face and said “Look well… look carefully.”
She didn’t answer for she was still feeling dizzy and very confused about what was happening. Then she felt the dripping of a drop, and then other, and another. Leaving her torpor, she saw what the priest wanted to say: his crucifix wasn’t where it should’ve be. She paid more attention at the same time she passed her hand on his face, and then she saw: Nailed on his neck, was almost all the crucifix. The blood dropped on the girl’s now ripped dress painting it in a vivid crimson.
Shouting in total horror, she pushed the priest’s body to her side, making it fall just before the candlestick. At this very moment, the chant increased its tune. Completely disgusted with the scene, she walked back on many steps.
She remained for a long time by looking the body and had to make a great effort to avoid puking. The crucifix jumped out his neck, totally covered in red over the blood pool that was forming. She glanced her hands and found them also completely covered in blood. Paralyzed again, she stayed there, staring them as if the characteristic blood’s red color hypnotized her. A crack made her change her attention. In some way, the candle’s fire touched the priest, now burning his body and then in few seconds, all the surroundings. The flames passed to dance more intensively, lighting the entire place. The ambience was a small chapel, like these modern chapels that try to copy the Romanic architectural style, with its arcs on almost all walls. Small wooden columns sustained the roof and the benches were places on its sides.
Quickly all the structure was in flames and in the center of it was the girl who finally stopped looking at her hands. Now she just contemplated the fire with no reaction. Just like her, the Christ hanged on the wall seemed to be staring at the fire too. The eyes of the girl crossed with the eyes of the sculpted image. The Christ’s eyes denoted sadness, hers, absence of emotion, but still strongly darting the light from the fire, which gave it a sinister shine.
Until the flames engulfed everything.
Again, all the images passed in front of her like a confused blur and then she noted that she was outside, contemplating both the chapel where she was moments before and the orphanage in fire. Many people around her were running desperate in a chaotic profusion of nuns, volunteers and other children.
Just like inside the chapel, she glanced at the scene without reaction. She fixed her eyes on the dance of the flames while many people cried and shouted. Suddenly everybody heard a loud honk sound and sirens: the firefighters have just arrived.
The girl coldly contemplated the scene. She wasn’t confused anymore. Now she knew perfectly what was happening and where she was. Her ears listened carefully the sounds. Not the shouts, the cries, and the sirens, but the chant which now was loudly and strong than before: Kyrie Eleison, Christe Eleison, Kyrie Eleison. Her green eyes now shined more intensively so that it seemed to be in flames.
Now the girl was smiling.