A harsh wind blew leaves loose from old trees. The moonlight shone brightly between the hardly visible clouds. It was a summer night and yet it gave off an autumn feel with all the wind and eeriness that followed. Below it all was a neighbourhood that looked as ordinary as any other average neighbourhood and perhaps that wasn't such a bad thing this time around. Reports of missing teenagers have been frighteningly spiking around the country of Canada. Mangled and brutalized corpses have been found in neighbourhoods such as this and even ones less rich and run down.
The murder, or murders, haven't been found but police have begun enforcing curfews around the country, however, this neighbourhood didn't follow them. Things rarely happen here and the inhabitants don't believe anything ever will. Just a few blocks away from the nearest high school known as Brooklyn High, was the house of a girl named Irene. Her hair was curly and thick, often messy but clean. She was part of a black family that moved to Canada where her mother then had her and her siblings.
Her family was kind and welcoming to other neighbours, often throwing barbecues on Sundays and attending many community activities. Irene, however, was a quiet girl compared to everyone else but was as kind as ever. Even though she kept to herself, she made sure to check in on her younger siblings and help her parents and aunt out around the house. They only had two pets, a golden retriever named Dingo and a goldfish named… Gerald. Her family couldn't be any better, but they weren't the problem… Her problem was her classmates.
A certain group of them at least. I know it is pretty typical, but the more well-known students were complete assholes to everyone else. Especially Irene. Irene dreaded going back but they couldn't exactly move. This was a good neighbourhood for her family and one of the only ones they could afford.
So, Irene did her best to avoid her bullies and kept her head down. But starting a new week of the same old miserable routine always kept her up at night, which is why she sat up on her window sill and watched the moon anxiously. She was a nerd and she knew she would always be one. Various slasher and sci-fi posters sealed her fate. Piles of Shakespeare books only added to it. In her spare time, she loved to read and draw pictures of her favourite characters.
These pictures usually varied but the V from V for Vendetta and Sherlock Holmes would often be her main go-to. But on one of the other pages were drawings of other various fantasy characters. Looking at or even hearing about them, you would already know the kind of girl she was. A normal one. Keeping to herself was an obvious choice since no one else shared these interests in school but it hurt her from time to time. She only ever made friends online and while they were more than accepting of her, she hated eating alone and finding reasons to avoid class. None of this mattered now because she needed to sleep for early class tomorrow. On her writing desk, just in front of her mirror were ashes in a bowl, pertaining of paper, a hardly noticeable black feather, elastic and plant remains, hardly visible.
Just before she turned away from the window, she noticed something odd outside. Just between two houses was a dark walkway, as usual, but something was off about it. Something was watching her. She couldn't make it out but her heart stopped. It was dark within the blackness of the walkway.
Resembling a freakishly tall… man? She didn't know but she didn't want to look at it any longer. She locked her window, shut her purple curtains and threw herself in bed. Her light brown eyes never left the window. Moonlight peered through the curtains and in a split moment, it disappeared and came back in a second.
She gasped, quickly reaching under her bed to pull out a metal bat her aunt had given to her. Fear ate her alive as she watched the window. She couldn't move. Its presence petrified her. She felt stuck to the bed, trapped in one spot. Her attention was caught on the window and any sound in her room.
The only problem was with her eyes on the window, she was blind to the closet behind her. The white door slowly slid open without a noise made. Inside was pitch black and uncomfortably silent. Seconds passed. In the darkness… it was there.
A loud snap of a bone made a tear roll down Irene's cheek. It placed its dark taloned hand outside the closet and onto her wall, spreading darkness with its touch. You can't see it. You can't make it out. Dark fabric covered the rest of its arm, revealing not a trace of humanity. But Irene turned to look.