Gaibu no Wareware ni Sekai
Typed version of my original comic book
By Majin Magus
The moon glistened down on the sidewalk, its orbit for the night nearly halfway completed. Stars twinkled high in the sky, billions of miles away. Night's darkness was black as pitch, and there was only one sound:
A teenager was on his way home from a graveyard shift at the Seven-Eleven. He worked night shifts like this so his could obtain his new car, and it really wore him out.
"This is freaky," he muttered, quickening his pace under the sliver that was the moon. His gym shoes damped as he set across someone's lawn that had, evidently, been watered during the day.
The teenager froze. He turned, but didn't see anything around him. Now practically jogging, he swerved and went. He didn't look back, but he knew something or someone was following him.
An owl's hooting made the teenager trip over an empty can of cola. His knees, which weren't covered because he was wearing shorts, were cut on the hard sidewalk pavement. His auburn hair hung in his face, and his blue eyes swiveled around to attempt to see through the darkness.
"W-who's there?" he asked, getting up slowly. He felt something brush against his shoulder. Jumping away from the touch, his heart raced quicker. Someone was here, and…
A hand appeared out of the darkness. It wasn't decapitated, but the darkness obscured the hand's owner. The teenager backed slowly away, and the hand didn't move. Instead, a harsh voice spoke.
A flash of light blinded him, and his scream, a long cry of terror, echoed through the night. A vision of a black-cloaked figure was the last thing he ever saw.
A police officer sighed as the body of a dead teenage boy was taken away in an ambulance. He turned to his partner, who had been away on vacation and hadn't heard of what was going on.
"Another death? What's the cause?" the officer's partner asked, his hand on his hip.
The officer shrugged. "It's the third this week," he said simply, ignoring the second question. He stared at the outline on the pavement, and at the 'Crime Scene' tape around the area.
"What's the cause?" his partner pressed, biting his lip. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead as he awaited the other's reply.
The officer shrugged again. "Don't know. There's only one pattern, in age. With every murder, the new victim's age is a year younger than the one before," he responded; yet not really answering the question.
"Damn it, Joe," his partner whispered, "I just want to know what's causing this!!" His voice rose after every word.
"Je-sus, Bill," Joe chuckled nervously, "it's only Six o'clock, you want to wake up the neighborhood and have the media all over this? Nah, better wait till the next shift."
Bill slouched and his eyes narrowed as the sun emerged from a cloud. "Joe," he said slowly, "I just want to know what's causing the freaking murders!"
Joe blinked and grinned. "There's no real physical damage. No disease record, either. Like their hearts just stopped, like they were scared to death. Everyone at the mortuary and station is stumped."
"…You said the age is going down. How old was he?" Bill asked, his eyes squinted from the sun's rays.
Two weeks later…
A seagull drifted lazily across the blue, cloudless sky. Its white feathers made it impossible for anyone to look at it for very long. The bright sun cast large shadows as it rose slowly from the horizon.
The bell of the junior high rang. Dozens of students poured in, grumpy, tired expressions painting their faces. A few minutes later, a girl with blonde hair and blue eyes walked silently to school. Her eyes found the seagull.
"Lucky bird," she muttered. She had long hair and short bangs, although long sections of her hair hung down. This blocked half her right eye, and totally covered her ears.
The girl's cold eyes looked around the building as she walked down the hall, shoulder-to-shoulder with other annoying-looking kids. She found her homeroom, went in, and sat down in the back of the room. One of the airhead girls beckoned silently and with a friendly smile. Then the girl tapped a desk next to her.
The girl's icy blue eyes met the smiling green eyes of the other girl. Her long sections of hair quivering, she shook her head. The green-eyed girl looked quizzically at her, then shrugged and turned around.
The rest of the class jabbered as the blue-eyed girl sat quietly at the back of the room, deep in thought.
At 8:30, a red-haired teacher walked in, smiling. She set a purse down on her desk, and all the students turned to look at her. Their eyes scanned her, and wondered if she would catch them if they talked or passed notes.
"Welcome to 8th grade. I'm Ms. Miller, your new teacher! I look forward to getting to you all!" Ms. Miller said, smiling happily and surveying the class.
Ms. Miller's hair was red, and tied back in a loose, relaxed ponytail. The ponytail hung to her shoulders, and as perched almost on top of her head. Her eyes were hazel-colored, and her skin was a creamy white. A blue dress adorned her slightly stocky body, and she was more than five and a half feet high.
"Now, is there anyone who has a question that will let us to get to know each other?" Ms. Miller asked, looking around the class again with her smiling eyes.
A hand rose from the back of the room. It was the girl with the cold blue eyes and the long, sectioned hair. Ms. Miller's happy eyes found her raised arm, and pointed to her. The class turned around.
"Would you like to stand up? What's your name?" Ms. Miller asked.
The girl rose. She had on a blue tank top, and was wearing blue denim shorts. Her skin was slightly tanned from a vacation in the sun, the class assumed. Some of the boys' eyes traced her skinny figure, and stopped as her cold eyes made contact with them.
"My name is Kristina. Kristina Adams," the girl said, her blue eyes narrowing for no visible reason. "I have a question for you, Ms. Miller." Her left shoulder rose and her hands went into her pockets. She slouched.
"Do you ever read the newspaper, watch the News, or hear news of any kind, Ms. Miller?" Kristina asked.
The question woke everyone up. Eyes opened wide, especially Ms. Miller's. The boy in the desk in front of Kristina turned around and stared at her like she was crazy. Apparently, lots of the kids thought she was.
"H-huh?" Ms. Miller whispered, a confused expression replacing the happy one of a few moments ago. There was a frown dancing plainly on her lips, her eyebrows furrowing.
Kristina's eyes narrowed more, and she brushed hair from her eyes. "You see, mugaku no baka, there have been numerous murders, each of the victims' age in the teens. So I wonder, hmm, how can you be so chipper when one of us might not return tomorrow, hmmm?" she questioned coldly, and sat down.
Ms. Miller was obviously torn between sending her to the principal or just forgetting it because it was brought on by her own ignorance. A beet red blush overcame her face as she stared at Kristina's cool, unconcerned eyes.
"I-I just thought I shouldn't mention that…as to not, uh, spoil your first day! I knew, of course," Ms. Miller stuttered, wringing her hands as she talked. Kristina smirked.
"Right," Kristina murmured.