Secreted & Anointed

So I decided to try something a little experimental for my first contribution here. I know I'm more of a writer than I am an artist or anything of the sort like that, but having seen the standard set by some of the writers here I got the impression that I had to push myself a little bit harder.

I have been reading a lot of Lovecraft lately, and while I wouldn't dare compare myself to such a hailed genius as that, I do get the impression that in trying to write this piece I might have got a bit carried away from time to time.

As such, if this is too pretentious, long-winded and verbose for you to stomach, I sincerely apologise, and assure you that as it moves along it does ease up a bit.

Oh, and as a warning, I haven't used any strict names for any characters involved, so certain terms might begin to become repetitive...

And I don't normally write in first person, but I needed to in order to achieve the nameless end and make the story more psychological...

AND I had originally intended for it to be self-contained... but the more I wrote, the more I got new ideas about how I wanted it to go, and the more I realised that it would be easier to split it into parts... so I'm only giving you Part 1 for now.

Here you go:

Secreted & Anointed

Part 1

Sitting down to write this, I still cast glances to the curtained windows through the doorway to the front room. The brightness from beyond the opaqued fabric still causes me to squint, so unfamiliar has it been to me for a time that I could not hope to know. And with luck holding, it should not be long now until I am allowed again through that open and keenly decorated front room that I remember from moments of a past age, and back out into a world of surely strange and alien things such as I had never known. For the time being, this is my furthest step outward from a lower and smaller place that has been a home to me, and this page upon which I write these words, my greatest freedom. Indeed, it is a wonder that the thrill of words and their casting has never slipped from my memory. And so with this most gracious of gifts granted to me, I have been entitled to commit to paper as much else as I can retrieve from the depths of my tired mind, and tell of my life in the care of my beloved Mistress.

~~~~~~

Once, I had been different in all ways. I still remember the outside world as it was, and the fragments of a life I once lived with what could have been moderate ease. I recall now hazy memories of routine, working amid stacks of paper with quill in hand, a suitably comfortable apartment in the city, a life that