NO title (SO FAR!)

Lillith's fall was broken by the bits of about 40 bodies at the bottom of the well. A perfect vessel in which to deposit the living. Even the ones who impulsively screamed. But Lillith didn't scream, she was to deep in thought wondering why she was even in the horrible muddle of a situation. But her eyes had been closed ever since they had come to retrieve her, so as soon as she had finished falling, she opened her eyes one by one to see only a circular wall of moldy brick about six inches from her eyes. She felt the ground, wet, but not a watery wet, a sticky wet, and even if the blanket of night covered the sun, she knew what it was, blood. She jumped up almost faster then she had fallen down, as thought the sticky ground had burned her, and screamed.

Hours later her punishment wasn't so bad. No one could pester her, the atmosphere was lovely, although a bit dismal, but she was getting to be a bit hungry, but not to the point of starvation, yet. She figured she would cross that bridge when she got there, until then she would familiarize herself with her surroundings, as small as they were. All the bricks were the same size, square, equal, VERY manufactured looking, just like the rest of her home. At the top of the well, there wasn't a bucket like other wells, instead there was a mace, and a cut of the string, and CRASH, she would be gone, just another crumpled body at the bottom of a well. But maybe she could just push herself against the wall and it would miss her. The only thing that wasn't plated in metal or perfectly organized were the bodies, which she had become to befriend, treating every one of them like the person she had wished to be treated as.

"Come Crow, you've observed for almost four hours now, nothing else is going to happen. If you don't hear a vision in the first 15 minutes your not going to hear anything at all, it always works that way. I can tell you right now what will happen. She'll die within a few days from exhaustion or starvation, maybe both, before Friday. It's Wednesday now, so… she'll be dead in roughly 48 hours. That's what always happens, this girl is no different, she might even die before tonight is over, I've seen her type before." Flint informed his assistant Crow. Although he has one of the best jobs in the city, her sometimes wished he could be "manure harvester" just so that he wouldn't have to deal with him. This was one of those days.

"But this girl, Lillith I believe is her name, seems different from the others. She only screamed once. It perplexed me so! Why won't she do something normal, like all the other invalids!" Crow squawked. His name had not only beeen passed down from almost 15 generations, it also described his voice perfectly, brittle, scratchy, like fingernails on a chalkboard. The other thing Flint couldn't stand about him.

"I DON'T CARE!" Flint screamed, his tall, scrawny, body jumping up and down so high his feet were almost above Crow's head, for Crow was very short, and stocky.

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