Chereads / A Fictitious Reality (Reality Series #1) / Chapter 7 - Sixth Meow - A Victim Of Misfortune

Chapter 7 - Sixth Meow - A Victim Of Misfortune

ALL he could do was to shake in fear. He wanted to meow and cry but he couldn't. He should remain silent, praying that the darkness in the alley could conceal him from them; the darkness would somehow make him forget that beside him were two bloodied cadavers. He also hoped that they would not notice him as they did to the kittens weeping inside a plastic bag. 

Why did he choose to hide here from the dog? This is too much. 

'Someone, save me. '

The air smelled rusty, from all the blood that had spilled. Shards of debris and garbage scattered to the ground from the broken wall and garbage chute. The clang of two metals colliding continuously, creating tension. Each blow promised a threat of death to each other as they swung a huge sword made of platinum; sweating and grunting heavily due to the weapon's weight and force needed to exert for defense and offense. 

It's dark and no one could tell their identities but one thing is certain—they have animal ears and tails. Cloaked; soaked in blood and ripped, fluttering in the air as they move. 

"What's your agenda here? This—" the one with a midnight blue colored cloak roamed his eyes into the mess of blood on the cement. No one could see his expression but his voice alone sounded devastated and angry. 

Gripping his sword, his body illuminated, blue specks of light danced around him as a signal of overwhelming power shook the air; creating a tremor. A pentagram started to appear, seemingly circling on his foot. A grin plastered on his enemy as he stepped back a little. 

"This has to stop, " he continued, the debris around started to move and levitate as he moved his hand upward. 

"So you wanted to play this way, huh? " His enemy's voice vibrated and echoed in the dark place, cackling, he folded the right sleeve of his cloak revealing a black tattoo imprinted on his hand, it's shaped like an arrow, circling in the arrow and his hand is two coiled beheaded snakes. 

"Eve ytri woze archanum, " he chanted, black smoke came from his tattoo as it heaved a sigh, like a sigh of someone's last breath. It swirled around his body like protective armor, but the more it protected him, the more it seemed hungry for souls. The smoke started to materialize into a skull. It shrieked loudly enough to convince the guy fighting him to cover his ears.

The dead bodies on the ground seemed to hear its call. It floated; eyes started to bleed, skin blackening then it dried, the smell of the dead contaminated the air as skin peeled showing hollow bones and eventually dropped on the ground like a rag doll. 

"See this, young one? This..." The man's voice low, every letter uttered slowly like someone delivering a sinister threat. As the skull let out a snarl, the man licked his lips, saliva slightly dripping. 

"This is power! Power to overpower abusive humans! Kill them! Kill!" Laughing maniacally, his pupils sharpened as his eyes bulged, red veins started to show on the whites of his eyes. 

If not for the darkness, his looks would be a hideous sight. 

A look of disbelief passed through the face of the gyrokinesis user. "You...Sol..." He couldn't finish his sentence as he felt his throat getting choked. He tried to gasp for air but failed. 

Laughter echoed to the dark alley, echoing, and vibrating. "What..." Footsteps could be heard, decreasing the distance. "Will you do? I'll kill you and..." The gyrokinesis user waved his hand, trying to create spell signs to free himself from the strangling. 

"Try and try until you die." A merry sing-song voice rang on the gyrokinesis user's ears sending a wave of terror through his heart. 

Raising his hand, the skull flew to the darkest part of the alley, like a hand it clutched something. A struggle could be heard as sharp nails dug on the floor. 

Soon a figure of a cat man showed, being dragged by the skull. His blood seemed like an enamel painted on the cement. Eyes wet in tears as he pleaded repeatedly. 

The cries of kittens joined the chaos of agony completing the circus of terror. The man did a joyous tap dance as if a ringmaster, seemingly enjoying the "performance and music" he created. 

Looking straight to the terrified eyes of the gyrokinesis user, his voice soft and slow yet chilling, "Let's do a bargain, your life or his? "

RED neon lights blinked repeatedly as loud music and cheers accompanied by people dancing to the beat of the music like a wild animal in heat. The place stinks of liquor, smoke, sweat, perfume, and ladies cosmetics mixed to create a smell familiar to those night owls enjoying the fun at night. 

In a table, far from the dance floor sat a man drinking his fourth shot of mojito, face focused as his hands scribbled on his notes. He didn't wish to be here again, but after the commemoration, they invited him to an 'after party night' and he couldn't say no because his aunt is there. 

He's waiting for she'll get drunk then leave her alone. 

It's his fifth time writing the same concept again but every time he tries to create the narration, he feels dissatisfied. 

Maybe it's because he's not in the right mind? 

Or the plot seems too personal? 

A plot about a writer who becomes a spirit detective. The writer before becoming a detective faced numerous obstacles before he obtained his new duty and power and even after. He was abused by people he cared for and loved because he was weak but in the end, he gained courage and even helped those people when a series of evil ghosts attacked them. 

Or because he's a liar? 

Then again, Saint advised him, "If you want to be someone you couldn't be in the real world, do it when you write."

He knew he couldn't be brave and he knew he couldn't forgive them. But fictions are 'what ifs', possibilities that he knew will never happen. 

Because when he tries to do so, they'll keep disappointing him every time. Making him believe that none of them could change. 

Her lips plastered a smile as she glamorously walked closer. Her lips puckered as her gorgeous eyes batted. Anthony couldn't breathe because she's approaching him! His heart throbbed as he felt his throat felt dry. From the moment he laid his eyes to the woman again, the love for her remains even though she rejected him before. 

What will he say? What will she say? 

He could smell her amorous perfume as she approached; a smell of rose and lavender. Making her look like a flower who was granted by the gods a physical body because of her extreme beauty. 

He wiped his sweaty hands on his back and finally gained the courage to smile at her. 

When she got closer, her lacy fingers traveled on Anthony's chest. Smiling, she inched closer again, cupping the nervous face of Anthony. She lightly brushed her lips on his cheeks, traveling to his ears, sending shivers to Anthony's spine. 

He gulped as he felt his body react to her advances. 

"You still haven't changed... You're still a loser, amphibian," she chuckled as she used her old nickname to him. 

And she left him alone...dazed. 

Anthony smiled bitterly as he gulped his shot of mojito, he placed his glass on the table grudgingly, earning a loud thud. He wanted to cry again, but he must restraint himself. He already cried for almost thirty minutes in the comfort room before he decided to drink. 

He doesn't know why she kept on hurting him, back when he was in his senior high years, she kissed him, making him expect and hope that indeed he had a chance. Then she drugged him, seduced him, and made him look like a fool. She took a video of him naked dancing and grinding as he stared like a thirsty animal at the camera. 

She posted it on their school page with a caption, "Like mother, like son. I'll never like a poor yucky amphibian. Such a harlot! "

"Just what the hell? You know how her but why did you let her fool you again! " He pulled his air aggressively and cussed continuously, berating himself for being a blind fool of love. 

It's a bad decision to come here. 

"I should go home," sighing, he picked up his notebook and stood up. 

As he passes by the bar's parking lot. He saw Antoinette goofing with two guys outside a black van. She was moaning as the two guys with bouncer-like bodies kissed and groped her. Anthony just stared, like his body already has enough and he's just too tired to deal with her. 

Maybe this is an aftereffect of pain, it makes you numb. 

Something crossed his mind, a devil seemingly tempting him...He got his smartphone from his pocket and took a shot. 

'I need a perfect description of a harlot for my story'

Smirking at his thought, he stared at the scene again, only to see the two guys possessing a pair of horse ears and tail. They neighed loudly as they pound the girl. 

Anthony's eyes bulged and blinked. He rubbed his eyes continuously. As he opened his eyes, he saw the two guys with normal human ears with no tail. 

"I must be drunk and hallucinating, " he whispered to himself. 

"After All, they are indeed a bunch of animals. " Laughing, he walked away staring at the picture he acquired on his phone. 

For the first time in his life. He wanted revenge. 

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Vocabulary:

Eve ytri woze archanum - the more you see it,  the more death approaches