Denial's Not Just a Feeling

How About Now?

              The thunder crackled and the lightning cracked. The roads were quiet and scarce as ever. The sky was dark, with no stars shining down. The wind blew as rain pounded the streets and sidewalks. The slight steps of footsteps couldn’t be heard or seen through the storm.

                The figure seemed to have an edge as it walked. It was a living shadow amongst the open. It didn’t hide like the dead ones, but the storm helped conceal it from everything else living. It was fast and furious, not looking back or looking forward. It was tall with no sign of a face.

                The thunder crackled again and a spark of lightning lit up the sky, showing the figure. With its presence known it didn’t try to hide, but stepped with more power and fire. It wore a black cloak with a hood covering the face. Its arms were down at the sides and swung slightly, but no hands were visible. The pants were long and dark, and if a shirt was being worn it was well hidden under the cloak.

                The wind picked up, dashing towards the figures’ face to try and knock off the hood but that didn’t seem to faze it. It sped up and a cracking was heard, not coming from the sky though.

                It got deeper into the town, passing homes with the blinds shut and the curtains pulled. No animals spoke as if everyone and thing was afraid of the figure. Why?

                It seemed to know what was going on because it turned a corner and up the steps of a house, opening the door without a problem. It stepped in swiftly and closed the door quickly. It looked around. The house seemed normal; a living room to the right; stair to the left.

                Stairs.

                It made a mad dash for the stair once spotted. It rushed up the spiral staircase when the sky was lit, allowing another quick glance at the figure from the split second of light on the stairs.

                Its face was turned deeper in the hood so still no trace, but the body was better noticed. Gray, steel-toed boots thrashed the stairs as a hand poked its way slightly out of the cloak. It was old and wrinkled looking with long pointy finger nails. Looking closer as another bolt came through the only window lining the wall, the finger nails looked more like claws; sharper and longer than a cats’ claw.

                It stopped at the top of the steps and silently listened to the whistle of the wind. It looked to the left, right then left again before making another mad dash in that direction. It flew down the hallway, passed doors that seemed to have no meaning to them.

                It stopped in front of one door at the end of the hallway before kicking it opened. A figure in the room shot up on something and spoke, “who’s there?” It was a squeaky, girls’ voice. The girl brought her legs up to her chest and spoke again when the figure didn’t answer. “I’m serious, I-I’ll—“

                “Do what?” The figure interrupted in a deep, intrigued voice. He took a step in the room slowly, “what do you think you can do? No one is here, but you and I.” He stepped further into the room until his legs hit something soft and cushioned.

                “Who are you?” The girl asked again, her voice croaking this time. It was too dark to see exactly who the man was even when she squinted her eyes.

                “Ah, my dear,” he paused as he took a seat on the edge of the girls’ furniture, she scurried away from him, “I believe the better question to ask is what am I.”

                The girl squinted her eyes again, but still couldn’t make out anything, but the cloak.

                “Are you going to—“

                “Now, why would I do something as inhumane as that?” He interrupted her question with one of his own. “A delicate flower like you?” He reached over and lightly touched the top of the girls’ foot. She moved her foot closer to her and away from him. He brought his hand back and placed it on his lap. “Never,” he exclaimed looking at her, but saying nothing after that.

                “Then—“

                “Shhh,” he soothed in a creepy way. She did as so and clamped her mouth shut.

                The thunder crackled and as the sky went white.

                The girl stiffened as she looked directly at the window. He watched her do so. “You afraid?” She looked over at him, but said nothing; she would rather be out in the storm than in a room with the man in front of her. “I used to be afraid of many things,” she turned her head back in his direction at that, “but now I’m not and you won’t be either after tonight,” he comforted calmly.

                “After tonight?”

                “Yes.”

                “Wh-what’s tonight?” She asked, though scared to find out.

                “After your . . . initiation.”

                 “What initiation?”

                He didn’t answer, but slowly brought his hands up to his hood and dropped it behind him carefully.