Warnings: Descriptions of kidnapping, violence, littering, smoking, nod to sketchy U.S history, creepy man, mentions of bodies (not dead) (Let me know if I missed any)
Author's Note: Hey guys, as you may have noticed, this is new. Well, sort of. This is a story I once worked on, and then life and fanfic curses got to me, but I'm back and more determined than ever to continue. If you read the series before, A LOT has changed. I've added new things that I think will make the series more intriguing for the readers, but also for me as the writer. I can't wait to hear what you all think. Also, thank you for the support.
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1944 - California, United States of America
Night. A time children are taught to fear. In the dark things are not what they seem. Shadows merge with the tangible creating horrors in the mind. The others struck in the day. Made things more visible and brought the horrors to light. Not him. The whispers were louder at night. The fear more intoxicating. He wondered how much he get tonight. The terror on their faces when he—
A dark cloud of smoke oozed out from the man's mouth. He wore a sharp black uniform adorned with a few medals that glowed in the cigarette light. Glancing over at the flickering street light across from him, he inhaled the intoxicating smoke. The light flickered once. The fainting buzzing hummed as it fought to stay bright. It flickered two more times before letting the darkness of night swallow it.
A sigh left his mouth as he tapped the cigarette butt. The ashes falling outside the window, piling up on the road beneath the unmarked car. He took in one last puff before releasing the cigarette.
"You shouldn't litter—" a voice muttered. It was a woman. Her voice was gentle but trembling.
A smile crept onto the man's face, as the door to the car opened up. He climbed out letting it click shut behind him. Adjusting his uniform, he smashed the burning cigarette underneath his polished shoes. His eyes never left the woman. The street light hummed back to life, but he didn't need the illumanace to see her.
That's why he liked night best. All those things children were taught to fear, were just truths hidden by ignorance. In the darkness, one's true character showed. In the cover of night, the monsters were revealed.
"Pardon me, I am just waiting for a—" he paused eyeing how her fingers tightly clutched the sleeves of her cardigan. The grocery bag in her hand crinkled in the light breeze that began to pick up. "a friend of mine." He finished with a cool calculation. "Won't happen again."
The woman nodded. Her almond eyes darted down to the small pile of ashes at his feet. "Good. I don't want the children getting into that. There's many young ones on this street you know."
The man's grin grew colder. "I am well aware, Uta-sama. " The woman froze. The street grew quieter. The light began to flicker in and out again. The man's eyes trailed down her figure, stopping to watch the fear she tried to swallow. "However, I think there are more dangerous things on this street than," he lifted up his shoes, dusting off the cigarette ashes. "let's say a pile of ashes."
Slowly, the woman began to back away. His name but a whisper on her lips. A key flashed under the dying street lamp. The man tsked, prowling closer to Uta-sama. "Now, no need to run. I believe you know why I am here, and if so, then you know its best to cooperate." He raised his hands adjusting his leather gloves.
Uta-sama didn't give the man a second glance before running towards a nearby house. The street light went out. A high pitched scream filled the air. The light returned. The woman lay inches from her door step. The man towering over her unconscious figure as a new power surged through him. Dark whisps of energy visible to only a special eye whirled around him. Slowly, he blinked and a hellish glow filled his pupils.
Lifting her up, the man carried her towards his car. Sliding back the door, he barely glanced at the other small bodies pilled on top of the other, before throwing Uta-sama down with her unconscious children. Wiping his hands off, he slid the door closed with a disguist on his face. Removing his gloves, he leaned against the car door, and lit another cigarette before reaching into his uniform pocket. He pulled out a small notebook. Flipping through the well-worn pages, he flicked his finger, stopping on the page he needed. Like a claw, he dragged down the list of names, all crossed out, except for two.
"Uta Family - California - Sweet Dream Cursed User," it read. Carefully, he took a pen, crossing out the family name alongside all the names who belonged to the bodies in the car. Clicking his tongue, he smiled. "One left." His finger tapped beside a the remaining name.
"L/N Family - ? - Tenfold Pendulum Cursed User."
Snapping the book shut, he returned it to his pocket, slid into the drivers seat of the car, and started the ignition. Taking one last deep breath of his cigarette, he dropped it out the window. The street light flicker one last time, before leaving the street darker than it had been before.
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“ I waken, read, write long letters and
wander restlessly when leaves are blowing
my dream a crumpled horn
in advance of the broken arm
she murmurs of signs to her fingers
weeps in the morning to waken so shackled with love
Not me. I like to beat people up.
My dream a white tree “
“Whatever is going to happen is already happening Some people prefer “the interior monologue”
I like to beat people up “
I don't have autism, I am just riddled with anxiety a lot of the time and the reason I don't socialize much is because no one has the same interests as me in real life. Fuck.
