The Primordial Record novel Chapter 1

Chapter 1: The Mermaid

Authors Note: Rowan Character Illustration.

Darkness….

A flash of light….

Pain!

So much pain….

Make it stop!

Make it stop, please… I will do anything.

Stop killing me!

Rowan woke in a giddy daze, his head felt as if it was placed on an anvil, and an over-enthusiastic blacksmith was going at it for the better part of an hour.

A burst of phantasmal pain brushed across his spine, memories of depravity and sickness choked his throat, and for a horrifying moment, he could not breathe, and then like a flash of lightning, the sensation passed and the memory faded.

He thought he heard the distant sound of music and laughter, and if he was not mistaken, the baying of horses. Weird, there was no way, horses were near his worksite or his home.

His body felt crushed, as if he was under ten stacks of weighted blankets, and he could not breathe properly, oddly he found it comforting for at least it brought a little distraction from his pounding head.

He had a history of migraines, so he found the pain a little familiar, nevertheless, this was up there for the most painful experiences he had in his life, and working as a miner from the ripe age of nine, he understood the pain—a considerable chunk of his life was filled with them.

Put 'em in the list, just put 'em in the list.

Rowan mentally cajoled himself. It was a little trick he learned growing up, he always had a great memory, and most time it was a comfort and yet, it kept his pains fresh. At the edge of his mind, ever ready to serve him a healthy dose of remembrance.

He called the list: My list of glass. Don't ask him why.

His eyes were still closed, and he attempted to open them to no avail.

He fidgeted and struggled to bring his hands up to his face. Hands that felt like pieces of dead logs. He struggled to lift them to his face, and in what felt like forever he succeeded.

"How much did I drink last night? Feels like I have been poisoned, and the bastard did not do a good enough job." He muttered to himself.

He had struck gold on his latest dig, well, literally it was a diamond. Even after all the illegal cuts and fees he had to pay to the corrupt foreman, he was still left with a nice lump of change, enough to sink into a river of booze and cheap women for months and to test how much damage he could do to his body, both physically and mentally before it quit on him.