Fallen

Rule #2

Rule #2 By no means harbour a chthonic creature

I slowly start to drift back into the reality I loathed. My boss stood mere inches away from me crudely shrieking my name "Tier, Tier, TIER!" I look up curiously to see what he wanted "yeah, did I misplace something again? If so, I'm sorry." He replied with a slight chuckle "Oh no not that. Your shift's over, you really should start heading home." I slyly peeked at the small clock resting in the corner; he's right, it's exactly 4:30. Lowering his voice to a whisper he insisted on continuing the increasingly boring conversation "look it's already getting dark, it's not safe to wander the streets at night. You hear all those stories about people disappearing." I nodded with a sigh; I was kind of upset that he awoke me, I was having a great day dream, but he was right. Quiet mountain towns like mine generally have a lot of myths... and their fair share of unexplained missing persons. My miniature Chinese manager flashed me a warm yet casual smile, his face creases up and his button nose wrinkles. There I stood vacantly watching his boxed glasses slide down his chubby nose. The guy found me when I was in hard times, even gave me a job, he said I had the heart and the mind to do right but my motivation is all wrong. Not even five minutes into our conversation and he already understood me. I guess it was a bit cruel leaving the store without telling him his fly was undone; after all I owe the guy.

I signal my leave and head towards the timid looking door, as I made my way ever so closer all I could do was wonder if anyone else would notice his zipper was down, I actually sort of hoped someone would it's funny how I remember thinking something so trivial... and kind of sad. I pushed the door open with minimal effort and sleepily walked out, the irritating ring from the bell sitting above the door was followed instantly by a disappointingly foul aroma, this toxic scent came from an abhorrent substance, today definitely isn't my day. The odour crudely attacked my nostrils; it oddly smelled of fresh blood, but not the scent from a small scrape. This blood was far more revolting, much like a surgeon's bloodstained apron after a day of treating the injured. I mindlessly stare up at the darkened sky hovering above me. It's only 4:30PM how did it get so dark? I rapidly begin to awaken becoming vastly more aware of my surroundings. It's obvious at first glance that it's not clouds hiding the sun, but what exactly is it? How could it be raining if those aren't clouds? Well the answer to that is simple, it's not rain. The liquid softly dripping down my skin is in fact the blood that's scent lingers in my nostrils and those "clouds" are charcoal black feathers, what exactly is going on?

Before that day I was never truly fazed by anything... well after that incident I grew bitter so nothing really bothers me now especially why the rain could turn into a gore scene. I learned to stop caring a long time ago... that or my fear of being hurt took over my subconscious but I'm not in therapy so I'll stick to saying "I learned to stop caring." Of course not all lessons we learn are positive, and not all of them are even true, after all a philosophy is merely a theory until deemed otherwise. The quite patters of the crimson droplets tapping against the concrete were hypnotic yet this tranquillity was born from the vile rain. Although being calming the liquid pouring from the heavens was simultaneously fearsome, but for the most part it was strangely soothing... for the first time in years, I felt like I wasn't alone. Maybe that was why I couldn't help but to care about why it was happening... strange, I felt more connected to that rain than any human I know. Maybe it was because at first glance we're empty and meaningless, but this rain held emotions... ones of fear and calm... just no one would give it the chance to express what it held inside.

At first I hypothesized that a flock of crows flew into an aeroplane turbine. The blades rotated with an intense mass of power forcing the wind to act as a vacuum before violently shredding the birds apart. As the blades spin instantaneously they separate the feathers from their skin. The plane spits their rotting bodies away and soon after, all that is left is a flock of corpses violently plummeting from the sky. But that gruesome theory was quickly debunked, as I noticed in every direction feathers were dropping but in no clear direction was there a visible plane, or bird corpse for that matter. Even with the lasting effects from my daze I could still tell from the sound that there were no planes in earshot. I slowly continue stumbling towards my apartment, I constantly trip over my feet as my attention is focused on analysing the area as much as I can in order to further understand the situation. After gathering the few slivers of information I could find I rapidly realise the disappointing truth. There is no logical explanation. But like I care about what logic declares to be the truth. The ignorant fucks at my school are content living in denial, why is it that the intelligent can't? Well fuck your rules, I'll decide what I deem true and false, not what society dictates and if I cannot, then denial is where I'll run to.