Draconis' Bane Read Online Free PDF

into the casket.
    Grandpa laid there,
an odd expression on his weathered old face.
     
    “Tristan!” Cried an
unfamiliar voice.
     
    Tristan whipped his
head around, assuming he was in trouble, but no one was there. He
slowly walked down the steps and walked to the back of the church.
Looking out of the window next to the thick heavy wooden door he
saw his family outside, most of whom he’d never even been
introduced to. No one was near the door. He walked around the
church, looking for someone maybe hiding between one of the pews.
Not finding anyone he headed back up to the front of the church
again. Climbing the four steps he gazed down on one of the only
three people that had shown him unconditional love. His cousin Joy
wasn’t here today for him to lean on and his Uncle Stan, was
outside consoling his sister.
     
    “TRISTAN! CAN YOU
HEAR ME?!” Cried the voice again.
    “YES!” He
replied.
    No one answered.
    “…great, now I’m
going insane.” He muttered to himself. “Well, that figures. Beaten,
abused, neglected and here I stand looking down on one of the few
people who ever gave a damn about me….won’t Dad be happy.” He
complained.
    Tristan looked up at
the stained glass windows casting their multi-colored lights down
on him, completely lost in his thoughts and grief he barely noticed
a hand moving towards his arm. The hand’s iron grip caught his
wrist startling Tristan who slipped off the steps and landed hard
on the concrete church floor. Frightened he looked around the
church for his assailant. Just like the voice, he couldn’t see
anyone.
    “Wonderful. Just
wonderful, I’m hearing voices, having hallucinations…great.”
Tristan turned in place and yelled into the rafters. “You see what
you’re doing to me?”
    “No.” Replied a
confused but calm voice.
    Frightened and taken
off balance Tristan toppled over into the first pew. He landed hard
on the seat and then bounced off. He hit his head on the back of
the pew in front of him and then landed face down. Slowly he got
back to his feet, rubbing his head where the pew made contact. He
looked around for whoever spoke, once again, finding no one.
    “Awesome, just
great.” He muttered, still rubbing his forehead.
    “What is?” Replied a
voice behind him.
    Tristan shouted and
jumped sideways. An iron grip caught him before he could topple
over again though.
    “Easy.” Said his
grandfather.
    “Wha…..who….whe…”
Stammered Tristan.
    “Relax Tristan. Calm
down. We don’t have much time and I need to tell you something
important.” Explained his grandfather.
    “But…you….you’re….”
He continued to stammer.
    “Dead?” His
grandfather offered with a characteristic smile.
    “Yes, well…more or
less, dead here anyway.” He admitted.
    “I…I don’t
understand.” Replied Tristan.
    “I wouldn’t expect
you to son.” He replied.
    “Son? …I’m confused.”
He stuttered.
    “Come, sit down. I
have very little time.” He explained. “You aren’t who you think you
are. You don’t belong here. This is a dream.”
    “A what?” He
asked.
    “Well, more of a
nightmare really, think about it Tristan. You don’t act like an
eight year old. You’re constantly being punished and beaten. You
live a horrible existence from one great pain to another.”
Continued his grandfather.
    “Ya, well my friends’
parents have favorites too. That doesn’t mean anything.” Tristan
shot back.
    “Stop. Remember the
old priest who looked after you, Father Downing?”
    “No one knows about
that…how do you know about that?” He asked in shock.
    “I was Father
Downing.” Replied his grandfather.
    Tristan’s mouth
opened, closed, and opened again. Words wouldn’t come out. He stood
up and walked brusquely over to the coffin. Peering in, he saw his
grandfathers’ body laying there. Turning around he looked back at
the old man still sitting in the pew looking intently at him.
    “How…I…I don’t
understand.” He admitted