Visions of Pleasure by Clair Brett

Author:Clair Brett [Brett, Clair]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: CB Publishing

Chapter 12

The smell of moss and dirt filled his nostrils as he strode through the woods. It was dusk, and a fog rolled in, licking at his boots as he trudged along. Why back in the woods? Bastion wondered to himself but kept walking with determined steps. A screech filled the silent calm of the woods and sent chills down his spine. Bastion ran toward the scream. A woman’s scream. Breaking through the tree line he came to an abrupt stop in the open. There in front of him a familiar scene. Three people tied at the stake as the flames swirled around them. A mob of angry people stood not helping, but in fact cheering.

"Bastion," he heard his name, but knew no one around him. Glancing again at the three burning. One of the women looked directly at him, calling to him. She knew him. He took a step forward and she broke eye contact. When he looked more closely, the woman’s dark hair hung over her face, but the slight form covered by an oversized white dress sent a chill through him.

Bastion ran through the crowd to see better. He hoped upon hope it was not Aisling, but something told him–

"Bastion, this is your legacy." the words playing in his head. When he split the crowd and came to the safety of the circle of people just outside the rings of fire, the woman looked up again. The sight filling him with relief and pain in one breath. The woman on the pyre was not Aisling, but those eyes. This stranger’s eyes and mouth were unmistakably his mother's and his brother's. This woman was a relative. The other two people burning looked his way and they too were unmistakable in their features. These people were relatives to him. He had to rescue them, save them. The flames were too hot.

"You're the legacy" he heard the woman saying, but she was not speaking just staring at him. "You are our legacy." He he–

Bastion came awake with a start. The room still dark and curled up next to him Aisling slept on. No mob and no burning pyres consuming relatives he had never met.

Rolling onto his back flinging his free arm over his eyes to block out the room. Why? This horrific scene had meaning to him, but what? It must be a vision of the past, but it felt different. His visions came from objects, this came from him. Next to him, Aisling shifted and made a little mewling sound in her sleep. Bastion uncovered his eyes and turned to study this woman—his woman.

"Damn." He whispered to himself. What a fool’s errand. Having a vision did not justify being an ass. He was a man, who in his estimation had experienced love making enough times to better control his urges than this and using a vision as an excuse beyond intolerable

Bastion reached out and took a lock of hair lounging on the pillow and twirled it around his finger reveling at the silky smoothness of it.

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