Snippet #2363981

"Break what?" the man began pulling on Basil's lapels.
"Perhaps we should retire to the parlour and sit," spoke a women in a clear voice, at that the man let go of Basil and backed away. His eyes bore into Basil - seething with rage before he turned to follow the young lady.

Basil's hands shook slightly as he smoothed his jacket and took a deep breath. His older body could not deal with rage like he used to. Basil followed the rag-tag group into the parlour where he waited briefly for the women to find their seats before sitting himself on a plump armchair just off in the corner. The angry, short man stood on the edges of the room with a mean expression as his eyes passed over the rest of the group. He lingered on a moment at the young women who had spoken earlier and Basil made his own assessment of her - she appeared fine and upstanding but with an alarmingly fierce expression for a young women.

"“I’d ‘eard stories about some virus and the people going crazy," spoke the man in a harsh, ugly accent “But those people back there, they didn’t look sick. They looked dead.”

Silence fell on the group for a moment and Basil tried to think of what to say. He pushes away his first thoughts and tried to find something more reasonable to say; perhaps he should insult the man's obvious lack of education, maybe his dirtiness ... No. Basil had taken an instant dislike to the man but he could never make such idiotic comments to simply hide his fear. No sick - or even living for that matter - man could survive being torn in half. He returned to his invasive thoughts. He could personally see no further explanation. Basil stopped his panicking thoughts as a young servant wandered in holding a silver tray with a beautiful china tea set. The smell of freshly brewed Early Grey was enough to distract Basil's thoughts from the eerie silence that now took over the group.

Basil leant forwards and poured himself some tea in an attempt to calm his stomach. His hand began to shake ferociously but he quickly held it still, hoping no-one would notice and begin pity him for his age. He quickly wiped the splash of tea and took a long drink of the piping hot drink. He cleared is throat and set down the tea cup this time he managed to control his shaking long enough to set it down. He could feel his nerves and stomach begin to calm and the hot drink worked it's way through his body.

"I do belief our little gamin here is correct and," Basil began," The sick we could easily heal but this ..."
He cleared his throat then spoke in a clear voice as though he were dictating:
"Many of them that sleep in the dust of the earth shall awake, some to everlasting life," he pauses, "some to everlasting contempt."

He leant back with a sigh, he closed his eyes and let that sink in mainly for his benefit rather than the other's. This is it. We are facing the end times. The fact he was still here gave Basil a moment to pause, he had spent his life believing he was one of those who God Himself would choose to save. He never thought he would see this. Hell on earth.

In the moment of clarity (to Basil's mind atleast) he saw nothing to look forward to but a quiet death and some tea.