Author: Luna Ice PM
Death isn't always the undefeatable end that everyone faces... Some people do break free.Rated: Fiction T - English - Supernatural - Chapters: 13 - Words: 9,062 - Reviews: 4 - Updated: 05-23-12 - Published: 12-18-10 - id: 2874159
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
A small girl in a cloak hurries through the paved streets towards a small shop. She pauses at the window and stares in longingly at the food being made and eaten inside, but soon she sees something more interesting. A boy, he sits on the stairs and he watches her too. From his height, she guesses he's no older than thirteen at most, and his skin is darker than that of most people. She doesn't want to intrude, especially when she can't afford to buy any of the food, but she feels like she has to know him. The boy, for some reason or another, looks up and straight into her eyes. She runs away, the look in his eyes was so cruel and evil that all longing she felt has gone for good. The boy's eyes soften and he almost looks like he regrets what he did. He returns to being hunched over; sitting on the stairs.
Deeper into the poorer areas of the village, the girl finally stops at a shack. She crawls into it and carefully reaches out and grasps a small piece of cloth. She smiles and turns; running back to the more middle class areas. She rushes into a darker, empty street and she opens the cloth. In the neat folds is a few rusted coins. She slumps against the stone walls and groans, wishing the money would somehow duplicate, but they don't. She gets up slowly and takes to begging out on the streets. Some people catch sight of her and immediately, a look comes into their eyes. It's obvious that she isn't accepted; no one cares or wants her there. Deep shadows swirl in that darkened street from where she just emerged and she doesn't notice it, but soon enough, she may just wish that she had…
Her begging ends in futile and she retires to less occupied streets to spend the night. She doesn't notice the glares being shot at her back, nor would she care much really. 'Street People' as they were called, didn't have a place in society. The dark, unlit streets where she chooses to stay aren't as clean as the others, rats scurry under foot and the blood from some recent murder is still there. The girl doesn't care though; she almost has the street to herself, and for her that makes the place home. She twirls and smiles, dancing under the bright stars and smiling. No one enters her street for a long time and she's left kicking stones across the ground, but when she hears the horse's hooves pattering against the ground, she knows she has to hide. The girl ducks behind a wooden barrel, her sapphire left eye stares out nervously. The horses soon pass, but she doesn't move. The silence from the street is ominous, not even the rats make a sound. Her grip tightens on the barrel and a low whoosh comes towards her.
She peeks out again, staring out and she sees nothing but still rats. She gasps quietly and the whoosh sounds from behind her, but she doesn't seem to notice. She stares at the stillness and utter silence, her voice is gone and she can't find the strength to even move, for a moment. Eventually, she takes a stumbling step back and feels something cool and soft to the touch. The feeling haunts her mind and she turns to face it, but the moment she sees the skull like face and black smoke billowing around it, she turns and runs. The streets are suddenly, unusually empty all the lights are out. The only life other than her is the eerie breeze that whispers in her ear of her impending doom. She turns a corner and is left staring at the skull and coalescing black fog. Her scream rings throughout the entire area, but not even her body was found. The boy whom she had seen earlier became lost to severe mental problems and would murmur about the girl a lot, then one day, he just disappeared…