A Fictitious Reality (Reality Series #1)

Sixth Meow - A Victim of Misfortune

"Eve ytri woze archanum, " he chanted, black smoke came from his tattoo as it heaved a sigh, like a sigh of someone's last breath. It swirled around his body like protective armor, but the more it protected him, the more it seemed hungry for souls. The smoke started to materialize into a skull. It shrieked loudly enough to convince the guy fighting him to cover his ears.

The dead bodies on the ground seemed to hear its call. It floated; eyes started to bleed, skin blackening then it dried, the smell of the dead contaminated the air as skin peeled showing hollow bones and eventually dropped on the ground like a rag doll.

"See this, young one? This..." The man's voice low, every letter uttered slowly like someone delivering a sinister threat. As the skull let out a snarl, the man licked his lips, saliva slightly dripping.

"This is power! Power to overpower abusive humans! Kill them! Kill!" Laughing maniacally, his pupils sharpened as his eyes bulged, red veins started to show on the whites of his eyes.

If not for the darkness, his looks would be a hideous sight.

A look of disbelief passed through the face of the gyrokinesis user. "You...Sol..." He couldn't finish his sentence as he felt his throat getting choked. He tried to gasp for air but failed.

Laughter echoed to the dark alley, echoing, and vibrating. "What..." Footsteps could be heard, decreasing the distance. "Will you do? I'll kill you and..." The gyrokinesis user waved his hand, trying to create spell signs to free himself from the strangling.

"Try and try until you die." A merry sing-song voice rang on the gyrokinesis user's ears sending a wave of terror through his heart.

Raising his hand, the skull flew to the darkest part of the alley, like a hand it clutched something. A struggle could be heard as sharp nails dug on the floor.

Soon a figure of a cat man showed, being dragged by the skull. His blood seemed like an enamel painted on the cement. Eyes wet in tears as he pleaded repeatedly.

The cries of kittens joined the chaos of agony completing the circus of terror. The man did a joyous tap dance as if a ringmaster, seemingly enjoying the "performance and music" he created.

Looking straight to the terrified eyes of the gyrokinesis user, his voice soft and slow yet chilling, "Let's do a bargain, your life or his? "

-

RED neon lights blinked repeatedly as loud music and cheers accompanied by people dancing to the beat of the music like a wild animal in heat. The place stinks of liquor, smoke, sweat, perfume, and ladies cosmetics mixed to create a smell familiar to those night owls enjoying the fun at night.

In a table, far from the dance floor sat a man drinking his fourth shot of mojito, face focused as his hands scribbled on his notes. He didn't wish to be here again, but after the commemoration, they invited him to an 'after party night' and he couldn't say no because his aunt is there.

He's waiting for she'll get drunk then leave her alone.

It's his fifth time writing the same concept again but every time he tries to create the narration, he feels dissatisfied.

Maybe it's because he's not in the right mind?

Or the plot seems too personal?

A plot about a writer who becomes a spirit detective. The writer before becoming a detective faced numerous obstacles before he obtained his new duty and power and even after. He was abused by people he cared for and loved because he was weak but in the end, he gained courage and even helped those people when a series of evil ghosts attacked them.