Stormy Skies

Title: Stormy Skies
Chapter: One - “Desired”
Word Count: 6410
Warnings: Some violence (smut coming soon ^^)


I crave feedback! Please, my lovelies, review!

And, of course, enjoy!


~~~~~
Chapter One - Desired



“I think you know why you’re here, Alex,” the older of the two sat behind his desk, the distant skyline of New York City visible through the half-shaded window behind him. His expression was grim.

Alex sighed, fisting his hand into his chocolate-shaded hair. It caused the tips to splay out in every direction from between his fingers. “Increased benefits, a paid vacation, and a lifetime supply of barbecue chicken pizza?” The older man gave Alex a bizarre look, scrunching his brows together.

“What? No! God damn, Alex, do you find it that hard to take your job seriously?”

“Damn. Barbecue chicken pizza is really good.”

“Shut up. We need to have a serious discussion here. Concerning your column.” He pointed an accusing finger.

Alex slouched down into his rickety wooden chair, and rested his eyes half-interestedly onto the bulletin board hanging on the wall off to his right. “Sorry, Robbie. It’s just… well. We both know I already know what you’re going to say.”

“Which is exactly what we need to talk about,” Robbie replied. He scratched at his balding scalp. “Listen, kid. I’ve been doing everything I can just to keep you off the slab. Now, I told you, unless you start lightening up towards your readers, nothing I can do will mean jack shit. You didn’t listen. So now the editors are talking about cutting your column. Unless people are reading your shit, you’re taking up valuable page space.”

“I know, Robbie.”

“Right. I know you know. So here’s my problem: why the hell aren’t you lightening the fuck up?”

“I have been.”

“Oh, you have been.” Robbie crossed his arms over his chest.

“Yes.”

“…I don’t see it.”

Alex rolled his eyes, searching for an example. “Well, think about last week. That crazy bitch who wrote in complaining about how she thinks her husband loves their cat more than he loves her. I was nice to her.”

“You told her to get a cat of her own to replace her husband.”

“But still. That was nicer than some of the other things I could have said.” Alex’s reply was indignant. Robbie sighed angrily, covering his face with both hands.

“Alex, what the fuck is the point of an advice column if the writer doesn’t give good advice?” His voice was irritated. “I swear to god, kid, it’s like you want to loose your job!” The younger man didn’t reply, so Robbie continued, tone stern. “Listen up. You’ve pissed away all your chances. The editors are giving you one month to gain back some readers. So you better lighten up. Start being nicer to your readers. As it stands now, you got less than a hundred people emailing you every week. Less than one hundred. Out of a whole fucking city!” He threw his arms out wide to illustrate his point. “So. I suggest you graciously take this month to start kissing the ass of every New Yorker who happens to still give a shit about what you say. Or else you’re finished.” He made a slicing motion across his neck. “Out of the job. Understand?”

“Yes, sir.” Alex turned his gaze back to the bulletin board. Robbie snorted.

“Sir? That’s a first.” He observed Alex for several long moments before heaving a drawn out sigh, rubbing a hand over his forehead. The younger man looked over to his boss.

“Problem?” he questioned.

“As a matter of fact, yes,” the older replied. “What the hell, kid? Why are you acting like this? I mean, Christ’s sake, your column’s been running for, what, seven years? You’ve never had a problem before. People fucking loved your shit. You had one of the best read columns in the whole damn city. Now, all of a sudden, it’s like you decided you don’t care anymore. I thought you loved telling people how to run their lives.”

Alex raised his eyebrows, considering the question. “That’s true,” he finally answered, “I did. For while. But, I mean Jesus, Robbie. If there’s one thing this job has shown me, it’s how pathetically brainless everyone in this city seems to be.” He sat up a little, leaning his elbows on the arms of the rickety wooden chair, hunching his shoulders. The seat creaked its protest. “You know what I noticed? After a couple years, all the questions just start repeating themselves. No one’s got anything new to say. No one gives a shit about trying to solve their problems themselves - they go running to other people. Family. Friends. Partners. And, now, complete fucking strangers. Most of them aren’t even legitimate problems. ‘My husband loves our cat more than he loves me’? I mean, what the fuck!” He slouched back into his chair. “I just got tired of answering the same retarded questions I’ve been answering for years and years. I’m fed up with it. I want to get away from it.”

“You’re bitter,” Robbie added. Alex chuckled a little.

“Yeah, I guess you could say that.”

“So, are you saying you really do want to loose your job?” the older man’s voice had a disapproving tone.

“Well… no. I guess not. I mean, it puts bread on the table.” Alex paused to think for a moment, his brows knitting. “I’m stuck with this, anyway. I couldn’t get away from it even if I wanted to. I’ve been at it for too long. I’m too well known. If I get a job anywhere else, they’ll just want me to do the same thing. I’m screwed from all angles of the equation.”

“Right,” Robbie’s voice seemed suddenly energetic, and he sat up in his desk chair, gathering papers together and stacking them neatly. “So you might as well not screw this job up. Save yourself time and save me a lot of paper work. Suck it up and get your act together. One month from now, I want your readers lining up in droves to kiss your soles. Got it?”

Alex nodded, observing his boss’ sudden change in demeanor. “Got somewhere to be?”

“As a matter of fact, yes. I’ve got an editorial meeting at three. So get the hell out of here.” He rose from his chair. Alex followed suit. Robbie held the door for him on the way out of the small, cluttered office. He caught Alex’s shoulder. “I want you back in that chair exactly one month from now, hopefully with a better attitude and more readers. Don’t blow this, kid. It’s your last chance.”

Alex smirked good-naturedly. “Is that an order, sir?”

“Damn right it’s an order. If they cut you, kiddo, I’m the one who’s going to have to let you go. I don’t want to do that. Now hit the road.”

Alex waved goodbye as he made for the door.
~~

A week passed. Alex spent most of it lazing around his Soho apartment, idling his time away in any fashion that didn’t require him to focus on his column.

About once a day he would check his email, scowl at the annoying queries of his most avid readers, and delete the ones he found the most pathetic. Then he would force himself to write up answers for the more tolerable ones, so that he would have enough done by the end of the week. All of this done as quickly and briefly as possible.

All the while he kept Robbie’s advice in mind: lighten up. Be nice to you readers. Gain back as many as you can. Alex felt more trapped than ever. Here he was, trying his best to be ‘nice’ and doing what he could to keep a job he desperately detested. There was something terribly skewed about that.

Late Tuesday night he got a call from Danny, his ex. They’d suffered a somewhat messy breakup a little less than two weeks ago, which had done nothing to help Alex’s already pessimistic mood. He claimed to believe that Alex still had his favorite jacket, which he’d accidentally left behind when removing all his belongings from the small apartment. Alex rolled his eyes. It had taken him this long to muster up the courage to call.

A brief search though his closet revealed that he did indeed still have the jacket. The chocolate-haired man held the garment up, observing it. Two sizes too small. Danny was several inches shorter than him.

Walking back to the phone, he told his ex he had it. “You can come get it any time you like,” he remarked, his voice stern and business-like, then placed the phone back on the receiver, not waiting for a confirmation. Danny had been high-maintenance and manipulative, and Alex would be lying if he said he still didn’t resent the smaller man for that.

Wednesday and Thursday passed calmly. Danny did not come for his jacket. Alex continued to write up answers for the least annoying questions, and on Thursday night he compiled all his work from the week. He grimaced at his replies. They were all kiss-ass and painfully Dear Abby-esque. Just what Robbie had ordered. He pieced together his column for the week and sent it to Robbie, to be published in the Sunday paper. He went to bed that night feeling incredibly resentful.

On Friday, he received and invitation to a formal party for successful New York writers, which was to be held that Sunday. Glancing over the elegant invitation, he rolled his eyes. Later that day, he called Robbie. The man laughed when Alex explained the situation.

“No kidding, huh? I’m surprised they even thought of you.”

“That’s what I’m saying.”

“Well, what kind of party is it?”

“Uh. Well, you know. One of those hoity-toity kind of events. The suit-and-tie kind where they serve cosmopolitans and sour apple martinis, and crap like that.”

“Scallops wrapped in bacon you eat with frilly toothpicks?”

“Yeah. Like that.”

“I think you should go.”

Alex closed his eyes, groaning. “I had a feeling you were going to say that.”

“Well, kid, you’re trying to gain back readers right now. Exposure is a good thing. I think this’ll help you. You really could use it.”

“Oh god. What are you going to say next? That you think it’ll do me some good to get out of the house for once?”

“Sure. Why not. Just go. You might enjoy yourself.” Robbie’s voice seemed distracted, and Alex knew the older man was probably in the process of looking over some article or another. The deadline for the week was tomorrow, after all. He signed.

“Alright… alright, I’ll go. I’ll probably leave early, though.”

“Yeah yeah, whatever. Just make sure they know you’re there, so that when they run an article about it, your name pops up somewhere.” Alex heard the clacking of computer keys.

“Alright. I can tell you’re busy, so I’ll let you go.”

“Right. Have fun, pumpkin.”

“Whatever,” Alex chuckled as he hung up the phone. Despite that fact that he despised his job, he had to say that Robbie was the only boss he’d ever had that he actually respected and was fond of. The older man had a sense of humor, when he wasn’t being a hard ass.

As he made his way to the small kitchen to make himself some lunch, Alex noticed Danny’s jacket hanging from the closet door. He still hadn’t come to pick it up. Pausing mid-step, a thought occurred to him. Grumbling, he made his way back to the phone, dialing Danny’s number, which he still had memorized.

When the smaller man didn’t pick up, Alex left a voice mail. “Hey. It’s Alex.” He felt a bit awkward. “I’m calling to let you know that, uh, I’m going to be out Sunday night. Around eight. I’ll leave your damn jacket on the doorknob, so you can stop by and get it if you like. That way we don’t have to see each other. That’s all. So… uh, have a great day. Or whatever.” He ended the call.

Have a great day, or whatever? Alex mentally questioned himself. I feel as though I’m in high school again. He shook off the thought, returning to his previous task of making himself a sandwich. He had nothing to do for the next couple of days but dread the upcoming party.
~~

Sunday seemed to come far too quickly. Alex slept in that day, finally ambling himself out of bed around eleven thirty. He watched television for a short while, then prepared a light lunch, which he ate slowly, and finally made his way into the shower.

As he washed himself, he looked down over the planes of his own body. He hadn’t been to the gym all week. Usually he went three times. Not that he was an iron-pusher - really, he was the farthest thing from. He just liked to keep himself in good health. Alex topped out at five-foot-eleven, and was naturally thin, so he used his trips to the gym to give himself some muscle tone. That way, his body wasn’t lanky and awkward looking. He enjoyed the way his subtle musculature filled out his body.

But he hadn’t had the energy to go all week. Shit, he thought as he soaped his underarms, I’m really in a rut. Maybe going out tonight will help me after all. He quickly finished showering and wrapped himself in a terrycloth bathrobe, using a towel to dry his hair.

Around six thirty be began to ready himself for the party. He pulled his best suit from his closet, and dressed himself quickly, though he had to iron his shirt, which he had not planned on doing. In the bathroom he brushed his teeth and styled his hair. He gelled it back smartly, so that his bangs would not fall forward into his face. He then spritzed himself with a bit of his favorite cologne, and placed his small black-rimmed reading glasses on the bridge of his nose. Pulling on his jacket and securing his tie, Alex observed himself in his full-length mirror. It had been a very long while since he’d spent so much time on his appearance.

The man who stared back at him surprised him.

Jesus, he thought, I actually look like a writer. Imagine that. It was the reading glasses that did it. They were his nice pair - the pair he usually donned were rimmed in dull-grey plastic, and were much larger.

Stepping closer to his own reflection, Alex observed his face. He looked well-groomed. With his hair gelled back, the linear features of his face were more apparent. His long, slim nose seemed to fit more purposefully onto his face, and his copper-shaded eyes were able to catch the light his bangs usually blocked. Alex snorted as he realized he actually looked attractive. Though he’d been complimented in the past for his features, he’d never really taken the time to study them. Now, though, he realized, he supposed he could be considered attractive, in an every-day sort of way. By no means did he think he was shockingly handsome, or anything of the like.

Checking his watch, he silently cursed. It was a little past seven thirty. If he didn’t leave now, he would be late. Snatching up his wallet and Danny’s jacket, he exited his apartment, locking it behind him and hanging his ex’s garment on the knob. Alex’s apartment was at the end of the hall, so it was unlikely that anyone would notice the jacket hanging there, let alone care enough to steal it.

He made his way to the elevator, then quickly exited through the lobby doors and hailed a taxi. Once he’d seated himself and informed the driver of his destination, he sighed, mentally preparing himself for the evening. He was sure it would be trying just to keep a pleasant smile on his face.
~~

The blond man stared intently at his guest.

“Lifter,” he said at last, a smile in his voice, “I have a favor to ask of you and yours.” This time the man and his guest were not seated in a large hall, but instead in his personal living chambers. This particular room was a study of sorts, rectangular, the two long walls lined with bookshelves, while the remaining shorter ones housed a large hearth and an exit. A fire blazed in the hearth. The pair sat in two of the many plush furnishings that were scattered about the room.

The guest smiled, his blue eyes twinkling. “A favor? How unusual. I would think your pride would not allow you to ask for the favors or others.”

“Yes, well,” the blond turned his gaze away, playing with the bejeweled fixings on the sleeve of his robe. “It occurs to me that I seek something I cannot obtain myself. I require the Shadow’s help.”

“Humble.”

“Indeed, so I hope you shall give me your aid in light of such humbleness. For a price, of course. Whatever you seek.”

“What do you offer?”

“Anything you desire, Lifter,” the blond turned his eyes back to his guest, a stern but polite smile resting on his soft features. “As long as I am able to provide it.”

The Lifter seemed to weigh his options. What could he ask of his host?

As he pondered the offer, the blond studied his guest. He was an unusual being. The man’s skin was white as milk, while his long hair was as black as nothingness. It caught nor reflected light, and stood scrappily atop his head, the length of it pulled back into a low ponytail which trailed down to his shoulder blades. His eyes shone like two blue diamonds from between his long bangs. He wore no garments. Where clothes should have covered his body, pitch black shadows wrapped him, the edges of which were wispy like smoke. The shadows covered him so completely, the only places his colorless skin could be seen were his hands and feet, and his face and neck. Nothing less than this for the appearance of the Marquis, the blond thought, his fox-like smile creeping onto his features.

Finally, the Lifter, the Marquis, spoke. “I shall bargain with you, Raiser,” he said, a mischievous smile on his lips.

The Raiser sat up a little, straightening his posture in interest. “Yes?”

“I find myself unable to think of a price at the moment. I have nothing I am in dire need of. So, I propose this: I shall aid you, under the condition that you owe me a favor in return.” The host made to speak, but the Lifter silenced him with a hand, “I shall give you my word that this favor I will ask of you shall be completely within your means. Or else our agreement shall be void.”

The Raiser settled back into his seat. “How unusual of you, Lifter, to ask for a favor. From you, I would expect a desire for material payment.”

“Yes. Well,” the Marquis met the eyes of his host, “this seems to be a day of abnormalities. The mere fact that you ask a favor of me rouses my curiosity. I wish to keep my options open.” The blond man nodded.

“I see. Agreed. You have yourself a contract.”

“Delightful. Now, then, what is this favor you seek? In what way can I help you?” The Lifter settled back into his plush chair.

His host grinned, hazel eyes suddenly coming alight with thrill. “I need for your servants to acquire a pet for me. From the other side.” The Lifter’s brow peeked in interest.

“A pet? What kind of pet?”

“A human,” the first replied, “a very specific individual. Do you believe it is within your means to obtain such a thing?” His guest did not even have to consider the question.

“Of course. The servants of myself and my master are the only ones who can slip through the divide undetected. Let alone the only ones who can bring anything back.”

“Good, good.”

“When do you wish to obtain this pet?”

“As soon as possible, if you please.”

“You shall have to show me this specific human that you seek.”

“Of course. May I show you now, if you have the time?”

“Very well.”

The pair rose from their seats, and, rather than walking to the exit, the blond host brought the exit to them. “Shall we?” he questioned, allowing his guest to pass first.

“Ah, you are too kind, Raiser,” The Marquis said, a bit dryly.
~~

He’d had to sneak out the back entrance.

The party had been everything he’d expected it to be: fancy drinks, gourmet finger food, classy music, a few cameras and reporters, and completely and utterly pompous and boring.

The event was supposed to run until eleven o’clock. However, Alex had eventually given in to the urge to artfully disentangle himself from the polite chitchat to make for the exit. Despite attempting to leave out the front doors three times, he had been unable to manage the stunt. Every time, he’d been stopped by some party attendee or another, introducing themselves, asking him about his column, and starting up painfully polite and petty conversation. He’d eventually just had to excuse himself to the bathroom and step out the back door.

It was only nine thirty. Honestly, he was shocked that he’d managed to last and hour and a half.

He caught a taxi and made for home. He found the drive unusually relaxing, which he supposed was due to the stark difference in setting. I really think I’ve developed some kind of social disease, he mentally teased himself. Then shrugged. Oh well. I suppose I can live with that.

Upon reaching his apartment building, he paid the driver, and headed indoors. Inside the elevator, he pressed the little round ‘three’ button, which illuminated. The ride up was brief, and soon he was striding down the hall, heading towards him room.

As he neared his door, he lifted his gaze, and stopped suddenly in his tracks. His brow furrowed.

“What…” he stared, confusedly. “What are you doing here?”

Danny stared back at him, a slightly surprised expression on his face, the jacket clutched in his right hand. He stared back at Alex, and lifted the garment. “I came to get my jacket,” he answered, quietly. “Like you said.”

“Like I…” Alex’s voice trailed off, but he quickly caught himself. “Like I said? What I said was eight o’clock. Not-” he glanced at his watch, “ten fifteen.”

“Sorry,” Danny said, looking at the ground. “I was busy.” An awkward silence passed before the shorter of the two lifted his gaze once again. “…You, uh, look good.”

Alex rolled his eyes. “Okay. Thanks. Please spare me your bullshit, Danny. I think I’ve had to deal with enough of it over the past three years.” He stepped toward his door, pulling out his key.

“Bullshit?” Danny replied, though there wasn’t much fight in his voice. “I was just giving you a compliment. You don’t need to bite my head off.”

“Yeah,” Alex said, “and I said thanks. So then we’re even. Good night.” He opened his door.

“Alex-!” Danny’s hand shot out, and he clutched Alex’s arm, “I just wanted to apologize to you, alright?”

Alex turned to regard his ex lover. He looked just the same as he always had. In the five years that Alex had known the man, his appearance had remained completely unchanged. He was naturally tan, with shiny black hair cropped close to the head and light brown eyes. His build was short and naturally slim. He even still wore the same brand and scent of cologne as he had on the day they first met.

Alex raised his eyebrows. “…Apologize? For what? Being a manipulative asshole?” Danny turned his gaze back down to the floor.

“Well… yeah, I guess. In not so many words,” he removed his hand from Alex’s arm. “I just. I’m not sure. I feel like…” he took a breath. “I guess I just felt like you needed an apology. Because I know I was kind of an…” he paused, briefly, “…an asshole to you, yes. So. I’m just saying. That I’m sorry.”

After a moment of stillness and silence, Ales sighed, closing his eyes. “…Alright. It’s fine. Everything’s in the past at this point, so there’s no reason to worry about it anymore.” He opened his eyes, meeting the gaze of his ex lover. “I think we’re both more than ready to move on.” Danny didn’t reply. He was only able to hold Alex’s gaze for a short while before once again dropping his brown eyes to the floor. In spite of everything, Alex found he felt a bit guilty. He scratched at the back of his neck. “Uh… but, I mean, I appreciate it. The apology. It… it means something. For sure.”

“Alright,” Danny’s voice was quiet.

The awkward silence prevailed once again.

Alex stepped into his apartment and placed his hand on the door, readying to close it. “Well, I’m, uh, going to bed now. So. Good night, I guess.”

Danny looked up suddenly, a somewhat sad smile spread across his features. “Or whatever?” Alex didn’t understand at first, but then he recalled the voice mail from earlier that week. He chuckled. It was small, but genuine.

“Yeah. Exactly.” He closed the door then, just as Danny turned to make his way towards the elevator. He fixed the lock. Well, shit, the chocolate-haired man thought, removing his jacket and draping it across the back of an upholstered chair. He loosened his tie. I guess that was our last conversation. The thought raised mixed emotions. He hadn’t expected an apology - something like that was unusual for Danny. Somehow, the heartfelt request for forgiveness had - in some way - made the lost years of perpetual bullshit tolerable. As if they suddenly weren’t quite so terrible.

Alex kneaded his temples. “I want bed,” he said to the empty apartment, sauntering his way into the bathroom for a shower. Over the course of an hour and a half he’d had two sour apple martinis and one cosmopolitan, just to sustain himself through the petty conversation. Although he was far from being a lightweight, the man knew he’d sleep hard and long that night.
~~

Something woke him. He wasn’t sure what it was.

Alex groaned as his consciousness rose up from sleep. He swallowed dryly as his eyes fluttered open, and, groggily, he looked about for a moment. The room around him was shrouded in complete, pitch blackness. Unable to remember what had awoken him, he yawned, and turned over, closing his eyes once more. He sighed through his nostrils as his body relaxed into the mattress.

Several moments passed before his eyes shot open once again.

The room was pitch black.

The chocolate-haired man sat up suddenly, looking about. Why was it so dark? Alex usually left the window blinds open, he had no need to close them - and even if he did, wouldn’t light shine in from between the seams? Somewhat confused, his brows furrowed as he tried to think up possible reasons for the complete darkness. Perhaps the box that controlled the street lamps was out? Or maybe he’d merely closed the blinds for some reason or another, and had simply forgotten. He looked to his side, searching for the glowing numbers of his digital alarm clock.

He saw nothing.

Suddenly, it all clicked into place. There must be a power outage, he thought, the muscles in his shoulders relaxing. He sighed, relieved. A power outage - that made sense. Honestly, why had he gotten so worked up? He couldn’t explain it.

Cozying himself beneath his comforter once more, he allowed his eyelids to flutter shut. It wasn’t long before he felt himself beginning to drift off once again. Slowly, he began to feel the tendrils of sleep wrapping around his consciousness. It was then, as he stood on the edge, at the brink of slumber, that he heard it.

A shuffling. Quiet, from some corner of his room.

He was immediately awake once again. He did not move, and laid completely still, wrapped in his comforter. Focusing, he tried to determine whether or not he’d imagined the noise. Several long minutes passed in complete silence. Everything was quite. But… but…

But then, there-! He’d heard it again!

At once, Alex sat up. “Who’s there!” he called. It was a command, and not a question.

Only silence followed. Alex remained alert, poised to move. “Hello? Who’s there!” he called again, this time in a more insistent tone.

All at once, light poured into the room. Light from the streetlamps outside, light from his alarm clock, light from the screensaver of his laptop - it all seemed to blind him. The suddenness of the transition from the pitch blackness caused him to give a short cry, and he brought an arm up to cover his eyes. It was almost as though someone had thrown a black cloth over his entire apartment, and had suddenly ripped it away.

The room was strangely still after that.

Slowly, Alex peeked over his arm. The room was entirely empty, with the exception of himself. He glanced at this clock. Studying the glowing green numbers, he saw that it was three in the morning. He lowered his arm to his side, brow knitted. “Oh… okay…” he spoke quietly to himself, baffled. “That was… weird.” He looked about his room once more, then, sighing, threw his legs over the side of his bed, and rubbed at the corners of his eyes. I need a glass of water, he thought.

Standing, he found that he had a slight headache. “Figures,” he grumbled, ambling his way into the kitchen. He flipped the light switch, and the ceiling light flickered to life. He looked about the room, unable to shake his feeling of suspicion, but at last relented. Perhaps he really had only invented the sound. Walking over to the cabinet in the in the corner, he opened it, pulling from it a tall glass. Opening the fridge, he removed his pitcher of filtered water. He filled the glass, and drank its entire contents in only a few great swallows. The water was cool and relaxing as it slid down his throat.

And then something strange happened.

The entire room seemed to darken, just by a few gradients. Alex paused in the action of filling his glass once more, glancing over his shoulder. What the hells going on…? He questioned. What was that? Turning completely, he regarded the room. Everything was in its place. Nothing was disturbed. Alex studied it a bit longer, copper eyes narrowing.

…No, something was wrong. Something about the room, as a whole, didn’t look quite right. But what was it? He couldn’t quite put his finger on it. As he finished filling his glass, he continued to study the room with a furrowed brow. Placing his water pitcher on the counter behind him, he started in on his second glass, this time sipping slowly, observing the room as he did so. What was it…?

Halfway through his glass, it suddenly occurred to him. The shadows. There was something wrong with the shadows. They were… too dark. There were too many. As if someone had tried to pack more shadows into the room than could actually exist there. Alex’s stomach dropped as the realization swept over him. His eyes widened. “That’s fucking weird,” he said quietly to himself, in a deep voice. Lord, he had not consumed that much alcohol, had he? Could alcohol even do something like this?

Warily placing the pitcher back into the fridge, Alex turned and made for the bathroom, taking his half-empty glass with him. Stepping inside, he once again flipped the light switch, and the light above the mirror buzzed to life.

He examined his reflection in the medicine cabinet mirror. He wasn’t nearly as glamorous as he had been the previous evening. Now, he was in his pajamas - a soft, fuzzy pair of grey sweatpants and a plain, forest green tee-shirt that had a tiny silhouette of a dog stitched onto the left breast pocket in yellow. His hair was mussed from being in bed, sticking out in all directions, and the corners of his lips were turned downward in perplexity. His eyes were alert and suspicious. Looking down at the sink, he saw his good pair of reading glasses sitting on its surface - the black-rimmed ones he’d worn to the party. He’d placed them there before his shower, and had forgotten to move them. Plucking them up from the sink top, he settled them onto the bridge of his nose. Then it happened again.

Once again, the room suddenly seemed to darken, by only a few small degrees. Alex quickly looked up, whipping his head around to glance behind him. A hasty observation of the room showed the same shadow problem he’d discovered in the kitchen. Turning his head from side to side, he ran a hand through his mussed hair. “What the hell is going on?” he questioned, out loud, to no one in particular. After another moment’s observation, he turned his attention back to the medicine cabinet, returning to his previous task.

Opening the cabinet, he tilted his head upwards to read the labels through the lenses of his glasses. Running his finger along the shelf, he found what he was searching for. Pulling a generic-brand bottle of painkillers off the shelf, he read the dosage instructions, then popped open the lid and tapped two out into the palm of his hand. This headache was really starting to get to him.

Snapping the lid back on the bottle, he placed the medication back into the cabinet. He then briefly regarded the two tiny red pills in his palm before popping them into his mouth, using the half glass of water to help wash them down. Sighing, he placed the empty glass onto the sink top.

Alex turned his gaze down, closing his eyes and sighing, aggravated. You need to calm down, he told himself sternly. This could be any number of things. Alcohol. Stress. Insanity. Whatever. You just need to calm down and go back to bed.

Running a hand through his already mussed brown strands once more, Alex straightened himself. Rubbed his temples. Cracked his neck. All he needed was a good night’s rest, and in the morning he could try to make sense of all the weird shit that had happened. There was most likely some logical explanation he was completely overlooking. Sighing once more, he closed the medicine cabinet.

And broke out in a cold sweat.

His mouth dropped. His eyes widened. His brows scrunched together. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. He nearly screamed, but he couldn’t find his voice.

There, in the reflection of the medicine cabinet mirror, he saw it. Something was standing behind him. It was huge. Seven feet tall at least. It looked like… like some sort of fucking shadow person. Its silhouette was human, but its figure looked emaciated and sickly. It had no defined edges - they were wispy, like smoke. And it had no face.

It had no fucking face!

Alex spun around, finally managing to find his voice. “What the fuck!” He shouted, his fists clutching the edge of the sink in a white-knuckled grip. “Wha-What the fuck! What the fuck!” Suddenly, the thing moved - wickedly fast - its hand, it was clutching for his face - its fingers were long and needle-like, smoky around the edges -

All at once, Alex’s senses returned to him, and he dodged away, dashing out the bathroom door. He made for the door to his apartment. He needed to get out - get away from that, that thing…!

He stumbled over his own feet and nearly fell to the floor in an effort to stop his motion. Two more had appeared from nowhere - no, from the shadows - to block his exit. They too began to clutch for his face. Screaming as he hadn’t screamed since he was ten-years-old, Alex snatched up the jacket that he had left draped over the back of the upholstered chair earlier that night, tossing it violently at his attackers. The fabric passed right through them. Screaming once more, Alex turned on his heel, heading for the bedroom -

He stopped short. The other was there. The first one. There were three of them. “No!” he shouted, panic overflowing his veins, pulsing in his ears, rising up in his throat. “What the hell - what the fuck! No! Get away! Get away!” He made to head back towards the kitchen. No use. They were there to stop him. Bile rose up into Alex’s mouth, and he began to feel dizzy. In a shuddering realization, he realized he was going to pass out from panic. No…! he thought, desperately.

Suddenly, one of the creatures reached out for him again. He tried to dodge. It was impossible. It seemed that, no matter what direction he turned, they were there. He screamed again as one of the smoky needle-hands reached again to grab his face, and this time succeeded.

Alex’s vision suddenly went black as the thing’s hand seemed to spread out, wrapping around his entire skull. He felt suffocated. The shadow-thing’s hand was icy cool. He could feel its smoky edges enter his lungs when he inhaled. It made him nauseous. He grabbed for the thing’s wrist, to try and pull its hand away, and found it. Its arm was like ice, and felt the way a slimy bar of soap would if placed in the freezer for a few minutes. In his panic, one of the thoughts that crossed his mind was, How did my jacket go through this?

Then he felt more hands on him, spreading out and wrapping around him, and he struggled even more. It was useless. He was trapped.

Then he heard a whisper. Very faint and dry.

“Silence him! We must make for the divide.”

“He cannot be conscious for the crossing.”

“Then make him sleep.”

Alex was jostled, suddenly, and the last thing he felt before lapsing into unconsciousness was a sharp pain behind his eyes as the wispy cold of the shadow creature’s edges seemed to seep in, beneath his eyelids.
~~~~


Well, there’s the first chapter. The next chapter is when the fun really begins :3

Please Review, I implore you! <3