Prologue
Mark stared forward, eyes widened in shock and fear. The sight in front of him messed with his mind and strong beliefs. He took a few steps back, hearing a distinct ‘click’ sound over and over again. It was coming...from her. Yes, her. His figure became noticeably more shaky and wobbly. He was getting weak. Weak...with fear. He did not feel safe around whatever she was. His gut feeling begged for him to move or run away but the sight of her was too entrancing and hypnotic. His mind was trying to find a rational answer to explain what the being in front of him was. Then, the silence was broken by his own curious words.
In one, firm, breathy whisper, he was able to say,
“What...are you?”
Silence. Complete, deafening silence. She did not utter a single word. She did not want to answer. She stood perfectly still in front of him, keeping a steady silence between them. A ringing sound began to inhabit Mark’s ears as the silence had been kept from both sides. Mark felt in desperate need to find out the answer to his previously asked question. He needed closure, he needed an explanation. His mind was not able to formulate a reasonable answer. His strong beliefs did not want to open up to any other explanations. In his mind, accepting any other answer that was not rational, felt like betrayal to his own self.
The persistent silence did not falter. It did not get broken and it stayed present. Mark, still up on both of his shaky legs, stared straight at her. However, his eyes were not filled with fear and shock, they were filled with anger. The silence and lack of response from her angered him.
“I said. What. Are. You?”
His tone of voice was much more firm and coherent. And it seemed like he finally got the response he was looking for. That is, not in the way he expected.
She lunged forward, her long, stiff arms outstretched, fingers grabbing at the air. Long, yellow-coloured nails could be visibly seen by Mark, who reacted by failing backwards, his eyes filled with the same shock and fear as before.
Mark scuttled backwards, trying to create distance between him and her. She managed to grab a tight grasp on his right leg. Mark began clawing at the ground, desperately trying to break the hold. She began to pull him. Pull him closer and closer into her uninviting figure. Mark still provided a good struggle, wanting to live as he knew that she was not calm. He knew she was deadly.
Mark swung his arms around, hitting her repeatedly on the head. She responded in producing a deep, shrieking noise from deep within her throat. Mark was taken aback, caught off guard. She took advantage and in one, sudden motion, pulled him towards her torso. It felt like time stopped briefly has her hand began inching closer and closer to Mark’s neck. Her nails were clasped together, their sharp point forming a dagger of sorts.
As he felt the nails pierce his skin, Mark sat bolt upright, drenched in sweat in his bed. Looking around with blurred vision, it did not take him more than a couple of seconds to realise that he was in his bedroom. He sighed in relief, swinging his feet over the edge of the bed.
Mark shakily stood up, wobbling from side to side, as if drunk. His vision cleared up and he was able to take some steps forward, towards the window.
The captivating view of New York City at night-time calmed his spirits. However, not enough. Mark looked over to the table he put next to his bed. He spotted a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. He took them, going over to the window once more whilst taking a few puffs from his lit cigarette. He rubbed his temples, taking in deep breathes, trying to still digest that he just had a nightmare. A baffling, horrible nightmare....
