Maybe all people are monsters. We monsters see this world as this hopeless place that only exists for our amusement, a lack of empathy letting us crush all of our relationships ourselves with the crunching of bones. If you want to leave me so be it. I don't mind, it's not my place to complain about such things. If I feel such resolve to kill people, then why is it that I feel lonely when I'm not stalking a warm body? Even that isn't enough when I know you are still alive; you are out there in this world without me. This constant isolation, is it my only answer? Aren't there others like me, amongst the monsters here? This selfish world made up of fraudsters and Mafiosi. Someone here must have lived something wanted more than a cushioned sheltered life amongst the those who believe they live in the light side of the world. That man, he must have, but then why? Why! He saved my prey. He ruined the beautiful tapestry I had created for my private gallery walk! That's the first thing anyone should realize; you shouldn't anger the monster in control of all of existence. I am coming for you, to finish the job that has left me longing for years and years and years and years and years...
Hugo felt eyes watching him again. He'd experienced this feeling before, like something just around the corner was watching. His guardian didn't listen, he'd just swish the rim of his beat-up long black coat and continue walking. Today his guardian, the infamous demon hunter Alouise Grimm- this was only a stage name; his real name, Louis Fasman, wasn't flashy enough- and him were off to work with some ghost hunters on a malicious spirit. The eyes had been watching him as they walked up to the crumbling mansion. He was reminded of a reoccurring dream he used to have a lot. In it, he was dying inside a burning mansion, a building not dissimilar to the ruins they were walking towards. Louis said this too should not be any cause for alarm.
"I have this reoccurring dream where I'm living in a mansion and screwing the Miss. USA winner from 1983. She never ages from when she was first crowned. Dreams like that are random and inherently strange."
Hugo walked in silence, picking up the pace to match his guardian's long strides. The eyes continued to stalk him from the shadows.
The mansion was made of crumbling wood. Once stained a pleasant dark maroon, the walls had rotted into a brown sludge tone. The ghost hunters were already there waiting for them. One woman with wild black hair that whirled around her head in a cone shaped tornado offered Alouise a hand,
"It's such a pleasure to work with you! This is the first time we've met in person, yes? I'm Yolanda Sear. Behind me in the green shirt is my assistant Brad." She gestured towards a lanky young man with large wire-rimmed glasses. "He's who you spoke to on the phone and behind him-" she pointed to a dark muscular man rustling some equipment out of a black van, "-is my cameraman Reed. You said you took on a trainee a while back, but he doesn't look like he could be older than twelve!"
"Well I guess trainee isn't the right word." Louis paused for a moment, trying to think of the words to describe their relationship, he gave up a few seconds in. "This is Hugo, he's been in my care since he was about four or five, and... How old are you Hugo?"
"I'm nine, I turn ten next month!" Hugo announced proudly.
"So he says," Louis shrugged.
"Well it's great to meet both of you. What we're dealing with looks like a class five with serious malicious intent. I think the soul may be corrupted to a point of demonizing at this point. That's why you're here. Will Hugo be coming inside with us?"
"Yes, he has a certain affinity with these things."
"Like a medium?"
"Yeah you could say that." Louis recognized that unlike him, Yolanda might actually believe all the crap she spouted on TV.
