Black Crescent Bay

the worst reality check ever

A/N:

I wrote all of those previous chapters in one single day (January 24, 2024) let's see how much garbo, I can pump out today. And I actually just realized, I don't really know where I'm going with this. Like i'm kinda free-balling.

Usually I have at least an outline or an idea of how I want things to turn out but I GUESS you guys know as much as me.

Anyway, let's persist, unfortunately.

________________________

There was dry lightning and warm thunder. It was like a storm was coming but the ocean was holding it within itself a little longer. There was no rain, but hot moisture in the air and humidity that made my curly hair inflate and stick straight up to the heavens.

I considered going back to my apartment. But I couldn't shake the feeling of Féilim's eyes on me. I couldn't be alone. I couldn't be in a dark place where I'd reconcile to listen out for any noises all hours of the night.

I walked down the cobblestone sidewalks of downtown. It was early morning. It must've been. The lights of potions & things were the first on and the old man behind the counter was dusting the shelves.

No other shops were open. The streets were deserted, except for one single cop car hidden between the library and the grocery store. The light in the car was on and a curvacious balding cop was arguing with a skinnier younger one. I could almost make out his words. He was calling him, "Mr. Detective Cop," or something or other.

Waverly somehow managed to knick an apartment downtown, just above one of the ma and pop restaurants. I'd assumed it was hers at first before I found out she'd only just moved here.

I wondered who on earth would actually move to Hollowfaye. People tended to move far, far away from here. The high crime-rate and all.

I knocked on her door. And knocked again after a couple of minutes and being met with only silence. She answered it then, though she didn't seem that happy about my arrival.

"What are you doing?" I shoved my way through, utilizing the habit she didn't mind using on me and my apartment.

"I need somewhere to crash. Some GUY."

She hummed, "Oooooo, a guy. Do tell." I started to open my mouth, but she held a finger up, "Wait, let me make some tea."

I sat in silence in her kitchen, tapping my foot impatiently, scowling at the wall, waiting for the bags to steep. "Alright, continue." She sat down across from me and set down two metal gleaming teacups.

"He's trying to kill me."

"Aren't they all?" She smiled, "You know single women with no children live years upon years longer than trapped down women. Best mistake I never made."

I narrowed my eyes, "You were married twice."

She waved her finger, "Divorced twice, babe. As soon as they get difficult I leave, as soon as they expect more from me than I want to give, I get out of there quicker than they can come home with a shitty bouquet and a bullshit apology. And look how much better off I am. I don't look a day over 40."

It was true. She looked 40 and athletic and de-stressed, like she'd spent years ridding her life of all its toxins and contaminants.

"Well, that's not the point, anyway. I can't sleep. I'm terrified. I keep having these dreams."

She nodded and sipped the peppermint tea with a slurp, "I know, I know. The man with the rockhard abs and biceps who's half-fish. Why not dream about a sexy werewolf or a vampire who thirsts for nothing more than your blood and the warm meatflap between your legs?"