The Lost Omniscient

Wish #71: I seriously wish I was street smart.

            If I was, then maybe this whole thing wouldn’t have happened. I would still be living the mundane, rather uneventful life of a nineteen-year-old with not much to do until fall rolls around. But no, naïve, idiotic, little-ol’-me just had to go traipsing around a dark alley after hearing suspicious noises coming from it. Maybe Dad is right—I do need to get my head checked.

            Anyway, I heard voices and the clang of metal against metal as I was walking past the…well, seedier part of town, so, against all senses of self-preservation I have, I looked down the alley across from me to see what appeared from a distance to be your run-of-the-mill fight behind the bar. I have absolutely no idea why, but I ended up dashing across the street to hide in the mouth of the alley—I almost felt compelled to go closer, like some outside force was urging me on. As I crept closer, it became apparent that this wasn’t a normal fight; I could make out the shape of a guy and a girl, who were going up against a tall, gaunt man. What really caught my eye though was that, as the fight moved further down the alley into the pool of light from a streetlamp at the other side; I could see clearly that this wasn’t an ordinary fistfight. The guy and the girl, who seemed to be around my age, were both armed: the guy with a sword, and the girl with a rather terrifying mace. Their opponent, who was entirely cloaked in black except for his face and tall enough to join the NBA, had a rather unconventional weapon compared to the other two. Claws. I’m talking Wolverine-style claws, six inches of harsh metal glinting in the weak light from the lamp. There was a split second where his head swung around to where I was cowering in fear, and I swear my blood ran cold at the sight of his face…if you could even call it a face. The skin seemed papery and translucent, stretched out over his face, and the eyes were glowing red with catlike pupils.

            Honestly, the fight itself became a little blurred for me as I was on the verge of passing out after witnessing that. Not the bravest reaction, I know, but can you really blame me? This isn’t exactly the norm in the middle of Seattle on a Tuesday night.

            After fighting down the feelings of abject terror flooding me, I noticed that the duo had cornered Mr. Creepy by the garbage bins at the far end of the alley. My view was blocked by the cans, so I unwittingly stepped out from my hiding spot to see what was happening. Both the guy and girl sheathed their weapons, oddly enough. I saw the guy pull out some sort of amulet from his pocket and thrust it towards the cloaked figure, who then…disappeared.

            I was too busy caught up in wondering if I really have gone insane this time to notice that the pair of fighters had realized I was there until they had already started to approach me. Once they had, I was helpless, frozen to the spot with fear and anxiety.

            As they neared me, I saw almost the same amount of confusion on their faces as was running rampant in my mind; however, their expressions quickly morphed into something else as they suddenly stopped. While the guy stared straight at me with a look of disbelief, the girl’s face transformed into an expression of burning hatred as she yanked the guy down to her level and they held a whispered conversation, presumably about me.

            While they were having their hushed argument, I took the time to actually look at them. As they had come closer to the opening of the alley, the neon shop signs behind me had illuminated their faces, allowing me to see their features. I could only see the profile of the guy as he continued to talk to the girl who seemed intent on killing me, if the pointed glares she was sending me were any indicator. She was petite, probably about five-three, and looked like a stereotypical blonde, except for her eyes, which were a haunting black. As the guy straightened and turned towards me, I immediately took him in. Standing at well over six feet tall, his black hair and shocking blue eyes were the first things I noticed. While the hard lines of his face spoke of a darker countenance, his eyes seemed welcoming, albeit a bit cautious.

            Despite their differences, they both simultaneously asked the same question once they had reached me.

            “Who are you?”

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Hi! This was just an idea that had been stuck in my head, so I decided to write it out. If anyone wants me to continue with it, let me know!:)

dedication to justcallmehannah for the awesome cover!