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Death: Chapter One: Valentine

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Death

Chapter One: Valentine

The cold air of the park prickled her cheeks as she sat on a hard bench just off center from a single streetlight in the inky dark. Her nose almost burned with the cold, and the lamp light highlighted the white puffs that escaped with every breath. The air almost felt hard, like it was closing in around her, holding her down in this one lit place. Her thick coat was itchy against her sensitive neck, and she moved a shoulder to have them rub and thus scratch it.
She had done it this time, really done it. She knew in the dark place that had once been her heart that she could never go back again. The screamed profanities had made that clear. But where was she going to go now? Did it even matter? If she fell asleep here, she didn’t know what condition she would wake up in. Robbed, cut, or worse. She couldn’t sleep here no matter how tired she was. No matter how heavily the air pushed her down, she had to get up.
It was the sound she was aware of first. Crunching footsteps on the gravel path behind her. Someone was running like she had never heard before. Fast and desperate. She could almost imagine their expression just by these dull thuds. Contorted with terror and adrenaline. She thought it would be best to get out of the light, and stood, taking a few steps into the darkness. A convenient shrub hid her from the path.
Something nearly unperceivable in the darkness, a lighter shade of grey in the black. It bobbed up and down, growing larger and brighter. As it approached the lamplight she could see it ripple. A white t-shirt; wrapped around a boy. His jeans were so loose he had to hold them up with one hand, his fingers tense, knuckles defined by the black shadows of the lamplight. His face was in darkness, a blue baseball hat hugged firmly to his head. He turned to look behind him, his oversized sneakers catching on each other, sending him to the path amid skittering gravel. He looked up quickly, back down the path he had come.
She fallowed the angle of his head, unable to see his eyes, and was started to find a second figure, a dim grey outline in the lamp light. Tall and thin. Almost too thin. The figure stepped into the sickly yellow streetlight’s circle. Everything about him suggested madness; it seemed to be thick about him, like one would go mad as well if the got too close. The way he moved with odd jerks, the glint of his eyes that were open just a little too wide. His black clothes were torn at the edges, held together with odd colors of thread.
The boy on the ground was saying something, but her mind seemed incapable of interpreting the words. It seemed like everything was sloshing though water, or jello, making them slow. Maybe that explained the tick air. She peered through the leaves that were slowly buffeted by a current in this thick water pretending to be air, as the man in black lifted something. She saw only the shine that came off it, white shine in the yellow light. A black cylinder? A slow click reached her ear through the water.
The boy screamed, and the thick air was sliced by a sound like no other. It tore into the night and straight through her like a ragged fingernail into an orange peel. It ripped away the thick air, brining everything up to speed. No, faster, more chaotic. The boy gurgled incoherently, the pebbles being downed in a flood of red around his fallen form. The man in black stood over him, a gaping opening on his face serving for a twisted smile. He dropped something on the boy, something red to match the red that was slowly soaking through the white shirt. It seemed but a moment, and the man in black was gone, sped up by the new strange whirling pace of things. He disappeared from the light quickly, but she could hear his footsteps for what seemed like forever, as he walked leisurely away.
She took a deep breath, the cold air stinging her lungs. She now realized she hadn’t taken a breath since the gunshot. Her head swam with the sudden influx of oxygen. What should she do? No noise came from the boy now; he looked horribly pale, like no human should. Blue at the edges. She stepped from behind the bush.
Something slowly began to form… like smoke twisting out of the ground. She furrowed her brow; it was not walking out of the darkness. Maybe it was a fog? It gathered and intertwined, grey and silver, seeming to shine with it’s own light. Her feet were firmly planted in grass, and she felt like she could not move. A face was being made of the smoke… a man’s face. As she stared it became more clear, more solid. A long face, with deep eyes. Silver hair, or was that just the smoke? It was all tugged at the edges slightly, like smoke in the wind.
Then suddenly in one sharp moment, the figure came into focus. Completely concrete, still slightly glimmering with its silver light. A tall man, with a high brow and hallow cheeks. His eyes and hair maintained their smoky grey, but he was without a doubt a young man. A red triangle found its base on the lower lid of his right eye, the tip ending just before his nose. He stood behind the fallen boy, in a deep red coat with large silver buttons he wore seemed to touch the ground, but she couldn’t really see. He had a look the look of extreme boredom.
He seemed to look right through her, as if she was completely inconsequential, turning his face to the boy on the ground. With a single movement, smooth and fluid like a striking snake, he plunged a hand into the boy’s chest. She gasped at this, but saw immediately that this stranger caused no further injury. She saw his wrist, shining flesh and red sleeve, and she saw the boys chest, white with a blossoming red stain, and if she had just came upon it, it would have seemed they always were one.
He seemed to fish around for a moment, before pulling his hand back again. It was now a fist that gripped another wrist, pale and white like morning mist when it’s not quite wet enough to use an umbrella. She could see the man’s palm right through this other wrist, and he continued to pull, pulling a white misty body from the boy’s chest. It was roughly the same size and shape of the boy, but the features were blurred, shrouded by its misty form. She stood with wide eyed, staring at the two strange figures with wonder.
The man in red looked up at her. He stared for a long moment, looking into her eyes. She looked back, blinking slowly. He tilted his head to the side; she followed him with her eyes. He seemed to think a moment, and then tilt his head in the other direction. Again her eyes fallowed. He had an odd expression on his face, almost disturbed.
“You can see me…” He said slowly. His voice was smooth, but in someway inhuman. It filled her with terror and awe.
She nodded slowly, unable to think of anything else to do. This reaction, this interaction, seemed to leave him completely amazed. His silver eyes which had been so full of boredom and indifference were now alight with intrigue, but also caution. No, not really caution, almost disbelief. She continued to stare, rubbing her lips together for a moment.
“Who are you…?” she asked softly. It took her a moment to realize she had said it, it just kind of came out. The words sounded far away, her mundane voice miles away from these extraordinary events.
He raised his eyebrows, “You can even speak to me, understand me?” His disbelief was waning.
“Evidently,” she responded quietly. Her fingers twisted the opposite sleeve of her jacket. She was completely full of nervous energy, and she could feel her body giving small involuntary jerks. Her primitive instincts were tugging at her, trying to pull her away. They screamed at her to run, but she ignored them. This was the most interesting thing that had ever happened to her. Ever.
He laughed. He actually laughed at this comment. It was the strangest sound she had ever heard. Like tinkling glass of a broken family heirloom. Full of tragedy and loss. But it was a laugh, she could tell. “Amazing, simply amazing,” he said with a wide smile. His teeth were pointed under his pale lips. She shivered.
“Who are you?” she repeated with less caution, the screams from her insides growing fainter. He looked her over, from her dirty sneakers to her tangled hair. The look was half sympathy half fascination. Her skin tingled under his gaze.
“I am…” he seemed to think a moment for the best way to say this, “the ferryman, the shepherd, the one that guides you. You things like this. This is all that’s left when this world is done with you.” He shook the misty person still in his grip. It made a sound like wind blowing through dry leaves. She bit her lower lip.
“What’s your name?” she ventured. Though she was nearly shaking now she forced herself on. If he wanted to take her to for speaking to him, she could deal with that. She just wanted to talk with him a little bit more. He cocked his head to the side.
“I’ve never had need of one.” He said contemplatively.
“Then what will I call you?” she asked. He shrugged, “Whatever you like I suppose. It would be interesting to have a name…” He trailed off slightly.
She looked at his red coat, the red triangle. “Red…” she said quietly. He tilted his head toward her.
“Red?” he asked, “Not the most creative name, but it could be worse.” She flushed slightly, embarrassed. “Well, now I have a name, I assume you already have one. Care to share it?”
“Claire,” she blurted out. She had practically twisted her sleeve into a knot, her restless fingers never settling in one place. He nodded with that pointed smile again.
“Well as much as I have enjoyed this novelty, I’m afraid I’m already quite late.” He glanced at the thing in his grip. He looked back at her, into her eyes. The silver seemed to suck her in. “Who knows, we may meet again.” He took a step away, already becoming less clear. His edges began to curl and twist. She took a step forward, stopping before stepping onto the path. He faded and seemed to blow away, taking the misty soul with him.
The park suddenly seemed very dark and empty. The exhaled deeply, still half into that strange world which she had been pulled. Hard reality slowly pressed down on her with the copper smell that pressed up into her nose. She looked down at the boy again, though she knew he was no longer there. He had gone with the man in red. His shell was all white and blue, the red all drained into the gravel. She blinked, squinting down at him. On his chest, with all the excitement she hadn’t noticed. Over where the hole must be… A valentine. A red heart of stiff paper.
Yep, chapter one in its entirety. I'm rather proud of this story, so I hope to get some comments. ^_^
© 2005 - 2024 DoomGirlMeg
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Coffee-Rules's avatar
Hello! I'm a huge literature enthusiast, and I'd just like you to know that this deviation was featured in my Valentine's Day issue of Literature Collections!

Keep up the great writing!