The following story has been rated K+ for some frightening situations and mild language. Enjoy, and don't forget to review (little comment or big critique---doesn't matter) when you're finished reading!
A Worlds of the SightSpirit Production
In Which I Make a Really Dumb Mistake
Greetings, Earthlings. My name is Walt, which is short for Walter, but I absolutely hate when people don't call me by my shortened name. I am a hunter. What kind, you might ask? I hunt anything that is weird. Not your little brother or sister. No. Stuff that is REALLY weird. Supernatural. Otherworldly. Let's just stick to supernatural.
I don't necessarily hunt, as in kill. Well, come to think of it, I do sometimes kill, but only if the creature or entity is a danger to humans. Take Sage for example. Sage was a tyrannical, shapeshifting son-of-a-Xarafon (don't ask) who tried to kill me about fifteen too many times. I put him high up on my list of dangerous creatures. In fact, the FBI knew about him.
I launched one of my numerous attacks on Sage during the annual community talent competition held in my town. I signed up. That was how it all began: I wrote my name in my usual scribbly, barely-legible handwriting on the sign-up sheet. Now that I think about it, if I had not signed that sheet of paper, my life would never have changed. But I had signed it.
I knew Sage had signed up as well, even though "Sage" was not on the list of performers. I just got out my high-tech super-glasses and scanned for any supernatural signatures (literally) on the sheet. Sure enough, the name "Will B. Tyoo" was perfectly outlined in yellow, which meant it was supernatural. Besides, only Sage would come up with such a stupid alias that anybody in their right mind would know was completely fake.
I was grateful of my good singing voice. Then I wouldn't have had this excuse to get back at Sage. He and I would be competing in the singing division of the competition. He was right before me. Everything was going according to plan. I set up my temporary base near the stage, where my gray-haired accomplice Margaret would watch the proceedings on the local television station. I turned on my video-talkie, which I would use to communicate with her. Then I waited for my turn.
About twenty minutes after the competition began, Will B. Tyoo, also known as Sage, walked onto the stage. He began to sing a song about "disposing of your enemies." I was almost surprised by his exceptional singing voice, but then I remembered that he was a shapeshifter and had probably picked this burly, green-shirted, black-panted form for its voice. People tossed flowers and quarters onto the stage. I rolled my eyes.
As the shapeshifter finished his disturbing song, I took a deep breath and walked onto the stage. I started singing my song about how there is more to this world than we know of. Even though I have a great singing voice, I decided to use my worst. And sure enough, a tomato flew at my face and I was hit. That was it. The audience had answered my call. They gave me the precise excuse to attack Sage that I had desired.
I charged at "Will B. Tyoo," who was standing on the opposite side of the stage behind the curtain. I shoved him right off the stage. And that's when I realized my mistake. I started running away from the stage and the crowd. I turned around the bend out of sight. And just as I had begun to expect, I heard the wailing of sirens.
I ran as fast as my legs could carry me. I turned another corner into an unfamiliar neighborhood. I looked behind me and, in the distance, was the sight I had been dreading from the moment I had pushed Sage off the stage: two police cars, lights flashing, driving on the path I had just taken. The police had not known that Will B. Tyoo was actually one of America's most wanted criminals. They just saw me push an innocent man off a stage. Now they were after me.
I ran. I did not stop. I just kept running. I had no proof that the victim of my attack was Sage. I was running in an unfamiliar area, chased by policemen, with nowhere to hide. I was going to be caught. Then who would save the world from aliens? The answer was no one. The world would be doomed without me. And it was about to lose me.
Author Notes: Walt is based on a dream I had on the night of 1/17/09! You can tell from that fact that this story will be weird!
Walt is also my second "Surprise Story" (a story not disclosed on my profile page until release)! It is the Surprise Story for Winter (Early, since Winter comes twice a year; this is the "first" Winter of the year) 2009! If you are looking for other stories I have, well, surprised readers with, visit the Worlds of the SightSpirit Portal (my profile page) and look for any story labeled "Surprise Story!"
Walt is human, and he is from Earth! He said "Greetings, Earthlings" as a joke, but also as a pointer to the fact that he hunts supernatural beings.
This is a work of fiction. Any similarities between the characters and events in this story and real people, alive or dead, and real events are either used fictitiously or are entirely coincidental.