Every day was the same mundane
routine for Brandon Cho: He would wake
up at precisely 6:30 AM, hit the alarm on its third beep, and begin getting
ready for another monotonous day of bean-counting busy-work at the Roosevelt
& Barnes Financial Group of Seattle.
An easy existence that suited one such as himself. But, today was different. As he splashed through the damp streets, he
could feel a presence drawing closer, gaining strength- it was a manifestation
of pure darkness, and it was suffocating.
Brandon had left work early, telling
his superiors he didn’t feel well. After
looking him over, his boss agreed that he seemed ill (“probably from too much
overtime”), and told him to go home and get some rest. In actuality, Brandon wasn’t certain that
would help, and was losing his composure at an increasingly alarming rate. First spilling his coffee while screaming for
what seemed like no reason, then knocking all the items of his co-worker’s desk
onto the floor, because he was sure they looked like they were plotting to hurt
him. At this point calling it a day
early seemed like all he could do to regain his sanity.
Brandon started the walk home
briskly, but soon it turned into a jog, and eventually an all-out sprint. He took a few blocks, and wondered why he
didn’t run home every day, but soon remembered.
Thin, but hardly in shape, Brandon’s speed soon began to waver. He stumbled around a bit, then fell to his
knees, completely out of breath. His chest
felt like it was on fire, and he mercilessly gripped it and squeezed in
futility. His shirt twisted and wrinkled
as his fingers dug into the material. He
could feel something overtaking him, seemingly drawing the energy out of his
own body to feed itself.
“Why is this happening to me?”
A middle-aged woman approached him
with a look of concern, and began reaching into her purse. She hadn’t seen him running, but was watching
as he fell on the street, covered in sweat.
“Are you okay? Do you need me to call an ambulance?”
Brandon looked up at her, a wild
expression replaced the once boyish innocence others constantly teased him
over. He reached for the woman, forcefully
grabbing her coat between his previously shaking fingers.
“Help me!”
The woman dropped her cell phone, and
looked at Brandon in horror. The
unexpectedly stringent hold Brandon placed on her terrified her, giving way to hysteria. She screamed, and pushed him away. Falling back, she fired a look of betrayal
and distrust his way.
By now, a crowd had begun forming,
and a man put his hands on the woman’s shoulders to comfort her. The burly brute turned his attention to
Brandon.
“Hey, what’s the matter with you,
buddy?!”
Brandon reached out and took a step
forward, unable to speak, but the man stepped in front to shield the woman who
was still trembling. The crowd was
quickly turning against him.
“That won’t work, Brandon… These
people think you’re crazy. Are you
crazy, Brandon?”
The darkness spoke at him, taunted him. It mocked the frailty of his situation, that
he was powerless to fight it. And it was
growing stronger...
He had been uneasy for days, but it
wasn’t until a few hours ago that he began having vivid visions, and a voice
pounding in his head. Now a mob was
gathered around him, and the situation was becoming ugly fast. Perhaps the voice was right, and he was
crazy. Regardless, Brandon realized he wasn’t
safe on the streets and decided to get home as fast as he could.
A police officer on patrol began
approaching the scene from Brandon’s rear, eager to find the source of the
commotion. Brandon didn’t trust the
police, and knew they couldn’t keep him safe.
At the same time, he realized in a seminal moment bordering on clarity,
the man in front of him was also poised for a fight. Concluding there were no other options, he
darted towards the man, knocking him aside with the grace of a linebacker. The body-builder turned to retaliate, but
quickly disengaged due to the police presence.
A few minutes later, and Brandon was
certain he had lost anyone that might be following him, and returned to his
home in the city. After walking up a
grueling twenty flights of stairs, he found himself outside his apartment door. With hands still shaking, he fumbled the key
into the hole after a few failed attempts, and heard the satisfying sound of the
bolt sliding back into the lock.
Crashing through the door with his
shoulder as he turned the knob, he entered the only place he truly felt
safe. But looking at large vacant room
began to unnerve him once again, and the slight smile he had momentarily built
up vanished almost as quickly as it had come.
Shaking off the feeling that anything was wrong, Brandon slammed the
door shut and latched the deadbolt into place without hesitation. A nervous man by nature, he activated his security
system by way of the keypad, and found a brief moment of serenity in the series
of beeps that followed. Rationality told
him that whatever was after him hadn’t revealed itself to anyone else, and that
any sort creature that didn’t want to be seen would probably be scared off by
the blaring of an alarm. But just in
case, he realized he had better block the door with something heavy. Searching his apartment, he found his
bookshelf was about the right size, and began dragging it to cover the
entrance. It scratched the perfect sheen
of the hard wood floors Brandon was so proud of, though that was the last thing
on his mind right now. Strenuously
nudging the bookshelf securely into place with one last push, he felt it hit
the door with a satisfying thud. Nothing
was going to get in or out, and that’s just what he wanted.
Four hours, and three margaritas
later, Brandon was beginning to doze off, losing the battle to exhaustion. As he closed his eyes, he began to drift into
a light sleep.
Awakened with a start, Brandon fell
out of the chair in panic. A loud
buzzing filled the room, which made his skin erupt in goosebumps. There was a definite presence in the room,
and he could feel the electrical discharge it was giving off as it attempted entry. The intent was obvious, and shook him to his
core with a feeling of indescribable dread.
One thing was very clear: whatever
was coming for Brandon meant to do him irreparable harm.
Brandon instinctively twisted around
to make a dash for the door, but unfortunately, bankers are not known for their
athletic prowess. His awkward posture
and sudden movement sent him into a downward spiral; he hit the floor with
resounding “thud”, his body absorbing the majority of the impact. Brandon groaned, and sat up, but it was
already too late. He could only watch in
horror as a figure dressed in all black seemingly stepped through the bookshelf,
but remained hidden in the unlit doorway.
A voice began to pound in his head- this time, his own.
“Run!”
Before he
had a chance to move, the dark figure emerged from the shadows, taking the form of a man who looked anything but alive. Wearing a long
black coat that flowed behind him as he slowly approached the helpless banker, this thing didn't seem to so much as walk, but rather, glide. Brandon tried to stand, but immediately fell
back down. He raised his hand, as if to
shield himself from the intruder’s intent.
Brandon had no idea what was happening, only that he was too afraid to
move. Paralyzed in fear, an icy chill
had begun creeping through his injured leg, and filling his entire body with
adrenaline.
The ghost of
a man stopped over Brandon, and looked down. His golden eyes flared brightly, and seemed to
pierce into Brandon’s very soul. No
doubt in Brandon’s mind, this was definitely the creature that had been
harassing him, and it had finally revealed itself. Brandon tried to scream, but emitted only
silence. The gaze on the intruder’s
ash-colored face intensified. Again it spoke without
words, this time more horribly than the others.
“Brandon Cho… I’ve come for your
life.”
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