uhh...I started on a new story! I think there's something that's weird about it, but idk..
Prologue: Somewhere To Belong
I ran into the house, not daring to look back as the doors slammed shut behind me. Sweat rolled down my face, flushed with fear and adrenaline. As I continued to run, the uncertainty of what would happen next loomed over me like a cold mountain, dark and desolate, with no idea what to expect.
I turned the corner, skidding to a stop as a figure came into view. It was a clown, but they were not moving. A frozen stature. Treading carefully towards it, my mind raced with questions, What’s happening? This is so weird…I’m scared…where is everyone…I continued padding carefully towards the clown, hoping it wasn’t real, when suddenly, its neck cracked, the sound horrific. It fell to the floor, a viscous black substance oozing out of the empty sockets where its eyes were supposed to be.
I stood in horror, staring at the body on the floor. There was a THUNK from the ceiling above. My head snapped upwards, eyes widening at the black shadow there; dripping with the same black substance from the clown. The shadow moved. I tried to run, scream, plead, anything, but I was frozen. It spoke, the voice coming from it unnatural and alien, sending shivers down my spine as if hearing nails on a chalkboard.
“Xavier…” My name. That was MY NAME. I was paralyzed, unable to move as the shadow inched closer, whispering my name like we were old friends. The vile black liquid dripping from its body, if it could even be called a body, seemed to crawl towards me too, like maggots squirming towards their feast of decay.
The black shadow finally was directly above me, its words becoming a jumble of static and more alien words. The black ooze plopped onto my head from above, landing with a SPLAT directly on my face. I could feel it moving. It was suffocating, like the kind of pressure you feel when you swim too far down into the water and have to quickly kick up. Or when you’re in a room alone with your father.
No…That was just with my father. He was the kind of man that expected perfection and obedience. I could still feel the sharp disapproving glares he would give me, the bruises and cuts and wounds still healing, hidden under my sleeves. I used to always tell myself that it was all a very long nightmare, that I had a real father who loved and cared for me, but that wake-up call never arrived. I was stuck.
I get why mother left…I thought, the stifling feeling of the black goo still there. I closed my eyes, perhaps for the last time, and all went black.
I woke up with a start, my heart pounding. I gripped the sheets of the bed, my hands trembling. Why…why now? After all this time, why this dream again? I sat quietly, taking deep breaths. Suddenly, an arm wrapped around my waist, my body tensing up before relaxing again.
“Xavier…Darling…Why’re you up…?” Azaraith mumbled softly, rubbing sleep from his eyes, his black hair messy and eyes reflecting worry.
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