Echo of the Past

01. Marcin | Prologue - part one

Translator: Schiotka

Editor: Pasadera, JacquelineMonaie
____________________

This story was written a couple of years ago when I was still in college. There are many things I would like to change in it (for example, the dialogues), but currently, I am focusing on developing my drawings (feel free to check out my Instagram: kiyu.miyu), so maybe someday, when I publish books, I will rewrite them to make them fresher. Please forgive me for this and try to overlook certain shortcomings.

The second volume is more current. In my opinion, it is better written :D

Initially, the story focuses mainly on the relationship between the boys, then we have thriller elements.

Enjoy reading!

____________________

Dark and quiet. Peaceful.

A tiny flat immersed in deep sleep, just like the people who lived in it.

Three rooms.

Three people.

And among them this one, to which dreams always came with difficulty.

Marcin.

It was he who turned from side to side, lying on his old, well-worn mattress.

How long had he been waiting for sleep?

An hour? Maybe two...?

He didn't know. Every minute without sleep passed slowly, and he felt a growing anger rising within him.

He wasn't coping. Again. And with something so trivial.

Thoughts that only pissed him off were walking around his head. Treading heavily. Wearing his boots.

This wasn't the first such night. He'd suffered from bad insomnia for a long time, but recently things had been worse.

Well, he'd managed to get some sleep today... it didn't help though. It wasn't a restful, soothing nap. Quite the contrary. He'd dreamt about things he didn't want to admit, even to himself.

He closed his eyes, but impatience soon took over. He opened them again after a few minutes. Still sleep hadn't come, although he'd been naively hoping for its magical appearance.

He gritted his teeth in anger. He paused, then suddenly lifted his body. He sat on the edge of his mattress; scratched the nape of his neck. He thought for a long moment.

His gaze shifted toward the door.

The door to the hallway... the hallway to the ...

No.

NO. Certainly not.

He fought his thoughts. Fiercely.

Just for a moment.

He stood up, as obedient as a puppet, allowing his legs to lead him to the forbidden room. Silent steps in what seemed an endless hallway.

He felt a little like a thief. He was afraid of being caught, although he couldn't stop himself. The need and the fatigue were too great.

Finally he reached the room at the end of the hallway.

He stopped in the doorway, hesitating. He tightened his long fingers on the door frame.

He watched.

There was always some sort of peace in this room, and something else he couldn't capture in words.

Well, apart from the smell of the guy, and the rabbit, and the stale air. In short - it stank.

But in his room? There was just chaos and racing thoughts. A mattress, and a stack of unpacked boxes. And it probably stank a little as well.