Bikes & Blood

𝐗𝐈𝐕.

A chilling breeze blew across Santa Carla as Michael stared out the kitchen window from beside the entryway to the lounge room. The tensed muscles of his shoulders uncoiling, comforted by the boy on the phone and the information he provided-parental instincts quelled now that he knew the whereabouts of his daughter. Despite the carefree nature of his urging for Amara to live her life, Michael worried relentlessly for the brunette that reminded him so much of her mother.

Michael murmured a soft thank you to the boy that'd introduced himself as Tobias Frog, ending the phone call with a quick press to the Panasonic phone's end button. The phone clicking back into the wireless receiver with ease as Michael shook his head in bewilderment; remembering the bulky, pastel yellow phone that used to be mounted on the same wall twenty-five years ago. A scuffling sound filled the silent house, echoing through the lodge-like building like fog rolled in on a cold morning. A crease marred the skin of Michael's brow as he followed the odd noise up the wooden staircase and to the bathroom, unnerved by the off-putting sound.

"It's an old house. Of course it's going to make weird noises," Michael uttered, trying to reassure himself.

The logical side of his brain uttered words of solace while the irrational side whispered words of disagreement-urging him to believe that something else had caused the scuffling sound. Michael paused at the front of the bathroom door, brow furrowed with confusion as a strange gushing sound reached his ears. And with a hesitancy that put learner drivers to shame, Michael pushed the ajar door open with his hand.

His eyes widened in confusion and mild horror, eyebrows quirked with shock as he took in the crimson-red stained tiles and the gushing red water that tumbled from the two sinks and toilet. It filled the bathtub with frothy pink and yellow water; boiling up and shooting into the air like a geyser. Splashing across the white- tiled floor as Michael stumbled back, granite-grey eyes wide with fear as he pulled the bathroom door closed harshly. The slamming of the door echoed throughout the silent house, ringing in his ears like an erratic fire alarm.

Michael turned and ran down the short hallway to the staircase. A fear he hadn't felt since nineteen-eighty-seven engulfing him as he hastily descended the staircase. The wooden stairs creaking beneath his feet, tanned hands clasping onto the wooden railing as he stumbled. Michael winced in pain, releasing a low groan from the back of his throat when his back collided harshly with the stairs, a solid thump filling his ears as he gripped the wooden railing and halted his fall. Resting his head on the wooden steps, eyes closed as he tried to calm the racing of his heart, breathing in deep breaths of air as though it'd dispel his raging fear.

"I tried to make you immortal."

Michael jolted upright, eyes snapping open as a voice that haunted his dreams filled his ears; slate-grey eyes searching through the shadows of the house for the platinum-blonde that the voice belonged to. The pounding of his heart against his ribcage thumped in his ears like the beating of a drum, replacing the once calm beating of his heart. "You tried to make me a killer." Echoed in his head, his own words thrown to the forefront of his mind as he pushed himself up from the wooden stairs with shaky arms, making his way across the lounge room before stumbling to an abrupt halt in the taxidermy room's doorway.

Disbelief marred Michael's face, taking in the image before him with panicked breaths of air. Michael closed his eyes, rubbing his hand across his face as though it'd rid himself of the scene before him. The taxidermy room was lit up by a single red light that cast an eerie red glow to the room. Stuffed animals at varying stages stacked neatly and haphazardly around the room, horned animal skulls left scattered across a large workbench in the middle of the room, across from the open doorway.

In the middle of the table rested a large antelope skull, the horns of which protruded from the chest of a platinum-blonde man dressed entirely in black, the side profile of his face illuminated by the blood-red light. A silver, teardrop-shaped earring with a feather dangled from his left ear; the black and white beads along the feather reflecting the red light as Michael blinked in shock.