Wren
Ch. 8
Rich was drunk enough that he was constantly stumbling anyway; so it didn’t take much effort to fall convincingly. He was on his back, propped up on one arm, the other clutching the handle of the dagger on the back of his waist. He put on a pained expression and said “Sorry, could you help me up? I’m pretty plastered tonight. Thanks for helping me out.” The man bent down to help him up, and in a flash Rich drove the dagger into his neck. I’m sorry. He thought, I have no other choice.
His remorsefulness quickly turned to shock. The wound didn’t bleed.. He withdrew the dagger. The wound sealed instantly. The man, however, did not move at all. It was as if he was frozen. Then, something fell onto Rich’s chest. It was the man’s finger. Rich looked closer. It wasn’t a finger. It was a glob of flesh-colored goo. Rich found himself seized by fear. Just like his target, unable to move. Another glob fell. And another. They kept falling until there was nothing left. All that was there was a puddle of a vile substance. And a thoroughly traumatized Rich.
“What the fuck.”
Rich tried to wake up from the nightmare. But he was not asleep, so he slowly picked himself up. The goo sloughed off of his clothes, and he started to walk away. He knew from his past that running only draws attention to you.
Fuck. What the fuck was that? I need to go ask Brandon about this. But what time is it? Fuck. It was around nine when I got to the bar. What the fuck kind of thing just melts when you kill it? How long was I talking to that bartender? Fillip? Doesn’t matter. Was what I just did even a murder?
Rich looked at the moon. His heart was racing. So the moon is above City Hall now. And it might’ve been above the church when I went in. Fuck! I don’t fucking remember! So that means…
fuck. I don’t know. Does it even matter? Brandon might not even know what that thing was! His legs were trembling. Fuck! I just needed to—
He tripped. He barely caught himself, nearly cracking his skull open on the road. Fuck. I need to get home. I can’t be out here like— He started to stand back up, but fell forward onto his arms and knees again. And he started to vomit. After emptying his gut onto the cobblestone street, he got up. And he started, slowly this time, heading back to his house. I’ve got to lay down. Rich started to gather himself. I don’t know what the fuck that was. But hopefully some sleep will give me a sense of distance.