drabbles

Raven

Word Count: 1584

Westley Fields stood huddled in the corner of a dimly lit convenience store, nervously fumbling with the dollar bill in his pocket. Westley was an anxious person to begin with, but being out after dark and in a shady neighborhood only amplified his fear. His current situation was enough to make his stomach turn somersaults. 

Just an hour prior, Westley had been out for a relaxing walk, however his 'relaxation' quickly melted into panic as the sky was streaked with red, orange, and the impeding terror of nighttime on the streets. Feeling both peckish and scared he'd decided to duck into the nearest store which happened to be a 7 Eleven. However as he traversed the crosswalk to reach his destination, some asshole had decided to swipe his wallet. He muttered a string of the most vulgar cuss words he knew as he pushed open the shop's glass doors. Hindsight being 20/20, it was probably a very foolish decision. Because there he was, one hour later, with no food, no money, and stuck inside the store for the night. To be honest, he wasn't expecting it to get dark to quickly. It'd completely slipped his mind that winter was approaching, bringing shorter days and longer nights with it.

It was 10:17 now. Westley was certain of that. He'd only been checking his watch every two minutes for the passed half an hour after all. Calling someone to come pick him up had crossed his mind several times, but by now it was too late. His parents would be long asleep, and his friends would never, in a million years, drive to this part of town at this time of night to come get him.

Sighing, he checked his phone once again. 

10:21

"Shit," he groaned, rubbing his eyes.

"Hey, watch you language kiddo!"

Westley's blood ran cold and the colour drained from his face. Not even two minutes ago, he'd checked every aisle in the store. There was no one there, except for the store cashier and himself. And on another note, it was quiet as death inside. How could he have possibly missed another person's presence in there with him.

"W-who's there?" he said, trying to sound far more confident than he felt.

A chorus of laughter erupted from the next aisle over as a girl came out with her hands up in mock defense.

"Boy, why do you look like you've seen a ghost? You look bloody terrified," she continued laughing until the point where tears began to form in the corners of her eyes.

The girl was stunning. Her shiny, black hair lay cropped to just above her shoulders and her light green eyes shone with a vibrancy that just wasn't seen in the people around there.

And her accent. Oh God, her accent. Westley found it peculiar that she spoke with a British accent. After all, the people here usually sounded so unintelligible, let alone intelligent like her accent made her sound. He stood and stared for so long that she had to snap her fingers in his face to regain his attention.

"Ello, Earth to scardy cat," she called, trying to refrain from laughing once again. "You gonna say something or just gawk for a while longer? I don't mind either way, but would you at least tell me why you're here of all places so late at night?" 

Westley took a shaky breath before opening his mouth to speak. 

"I, uh, well... It's dark outside," he mumbled, shifting his weight uncomfortably between both his legs. He refused to make eye contact, as he was still a bit red in the face from being caught staring.

"Ah, so you're one of those people," she sighed, crossing her arms and rolling her eyes. 

"Those people," Westley asked, making air quotations with his fingers.