With this pentagram

Protection I lay

To guard this object

Both night and day

And for him who should not touch

May his body shiver and quake

I now invoke the law of three

This is my will, so mote it be!

The Pagan chanted, raising his hands skywards with head facing the Litha moon. A numbness took over adducing to him tracing a pentagram on an enigmatic, mystical object.

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These empty lanes had ghosts of people drunk, haunting the living daylights of the pristine marbles. The living was askew with  the dead. The lamplights gave out a sense of familiarity - sober yet alive burning. Unbothered and stagnant were the inhabitants of this Avant-garde town. The normality of life have engulfed them and the extraordinary in the sparkling waters of the river , the hidden rainbows , the harsh blow of the waves , peach slices, french pastries , paint smears , and in just trying...

The stray running left him breathing sporadically . He was panting heavily when he reached the altar. A twitch of eye-brow and a sprain was all the cruel world could notice. Takes more to observe than shallow noticing. Staggering he covered the highly-coveted relic. He thought, remembering the words of the Pagan,

" Dum spiro spero "

" While I breathe, I hope "

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This is a very short teaser for my upcoming book. Your votes and comments will be appreciated.  If I get a positive feedback I will continue or I will drop the idea.