Once upon a time there was a girl who had a book for a heart that was inhumed. Although her name wasn’t written on it, you would be able to distinguish it by the scarification of incisions decorated in its’ spine. The pages stained in a color close to hate; the jacket covered with residue from palms that read of intentions far less than gentle.
Do you know what it feels like, to read chapters upon chapters from a book filled with madness and a kingdom full of sorrow? To see the look of horror in someone’s eyes when they ran their fingers over your bindings to find their hands infected with loss? She did.
The months following the rites of sepulture, she wanted it back. The black hole where it used to reside was growing; the shadows gnawing at her bones. She thought that getting rid of it was the solution but it created a threat greater than anything she could have ever imagined. She created a prison of darkness that wanted to consume her whole.
With haste, she ran back to the burial ground in search of it for she believed that she would be able to find a cure for the disease. What she found instead was the coffin exhumed. Who would want a damaged heart? Whoever it was, whatever it was, it was capable of handling the infection.
During her travels, she had heard the tales and folklore of a city built on cogs and springs; a society that ran on programs and functioned on command. Creatures built with robotic hearts that could not be tainted with emotions. Remote Controlled People, as she liked to call them.
If such a place did exist she needed to find it. For if she was unsuccessful at recovering her heart; perhaps she could create a new one.
Photo Credit: MskyCarmen
Part I: the Return of the Lion