Mirage

PROLOGUE

It was that time of the day when the sun had almost lost its glow and the moon was almost at its peak. The sky was orange yet streaked with darkness; a sporadic sparkle of the stars was melted in that strange palette.

Casey knew this was the perfect time for what she had set out to do. It was bright enough for her to feel safe yet dark enough to go undetected. A young lady like her, wrapped in expensive clothing had no business in the muddy lanes of Rylandgate; in fact, to an untrained eye, she would seem lost. Yet Casey had a purposeful stride, sure of what she would do when she reached where she wanted to.

Located at a comfortable distance from the nearest city, Rylandgate was notorious for its stench. The stench of the nearest city's disposal; the stench of its own waste. Piles of garbage would collect for months and rot, harboring more pests and feral animals than people. The people. When Casey got to know of her fate she was almost tempted to accept it just to avoid stepping into the foul lanes of Rylandgate. According to her, the place stank not because of the trash but because of the people. Vagrants and thieves, junkies and beggars; trash living in trash.

Sidestepping the numerous puddles on the muddy road, she couldn't avoid the cloudy rainwater from entering her shoes, wetting her socks. The squelching sound her shoes made resonated with the squeals of the rodents that whizzed past her. It had to pour today, Casey thought, fumbling with the zipper of her jacket as she tugged on it. Feral mongrels with amber eyes and matted fur bared their canines at her as she moved along. She could feel the heated gazes of junkies, slumped in weakness and need but eyes so fervently trained on her as if she was their next fix. A normal Casey would have trembled in fear, but the gun tucked in her jeans ensured she did no such thing.

The stench became worse as she moved forward. The rotten fish she removed from her fridge yesterday would have smelt heavenly in comparison. She quickly wrapped her thin scarf around her nose to filter out as much of the foulness as she could, not that it mattered, she kept gagging on her own saliva.

As much as she wanted to delay the inevitable, the stench made her hurry. If she ever got caught, she knew exactly what she would say. It was the garbage that made me do it, I swear.

The bright blue door at the end of the path looked as out of place as Casey did in Rylandgate. But nearing that door, she saw it was chipped and raw just like the other doors she had passed. Someone made a shoddy attempt to hide their flaws behind color, Casey pondered, wiping the now melting foundation from her face. The back of her hand held the evidence of her internal musing but Casey was too focused on her task to notice the irony.

A single yellow bulb dangling from the ceiling covered Casey's face with a muted glow. She quickly made a note of her surroundings. Peeling paint? Check. Untrimmed grass? Check. Dusty porch? Check. Foul stench? Double Check. Removing her gloved hand from the warmth of the jacket, she knocked on the blue door thrice. Ten seconds later, the blue door opened.

When Casey saw the person who opened the door, she wasn't surprised. In fact, had the situation been slightly mild, she would have laughed outright in that man's face.

He was bald. His head shone with beads of perspiration that threatened to flow like a rivulet and settle in his bushy eyebrows. A mesh of wrinkles marred his skin, showing his age. He wore a tattered grey vest that was darkened in places by sweat that had seeped through the cloth. When he opened his mouth to ask who she was, Casey almost physically recoiled at seeing his horrid teeth; some black some yellow, some missing many broken. Yes, he looked exactly like someone who would live in Rylandgate.

Composing herself she looked up to answer his question and that's when she saw his eyes. Oh, those eyes. Black as coal; coal as black as death. The way those eyes stared at her it was as if he knew who she was or why she was there. A shiver ran down her spine as she stared into those black coals, into death. But no, she clutched the gun inside her pocket with sweaty hands and a tight grip.

I'm here to laugh in the face of death.

The gun in her hand trembled but she didn't draw it out; it was still clutched tightly in the hidden space of her pocket. For once that night, Casey wasn't sure. She knew it was the correct location, she knew it was the correct house, god even the man seemed to know who she was and yet, something was off.

The tremor in her hand had slowly started creeping its way to her heart. Her heart was racing but her brain was still processing. They said it would be an instant connection, it would feel natural, so why do I feel scared?

As if picking on her hesitation, the man stepped forward. Casey took an equivalent step back almost letting out a mild whimper, very uncharacteristic since she was never the one to scream easily. Taking a deep breath to calm her speeding heart she quietly said, "My apologies, sir. I feel I knocked at the wrong house, there is somewhere else I have to be." Casey stepped off the porch and turned around to walk back to the muddy path when a soft, velvety voice made her freeze mid-step

"Somewhere else to be or someone else to see?"

It felt as if someone had paused the life on Rylandgate and then slowly pressed play. Casey turned around in shock to see the person standing next to that man. For the first time in months, Casey cried in terror.

The sound of a thousand barking dogs couldn't mask that scream.

A/N: This story has been on my mind for a while. It took a great deal of battling my hesitation to put this online. I appreciate constructive criticism.

All my stories should be considered unedited first drafts. I'll go back and clean them up, correct grammatical errors and inconsistencies once the entire story is out of my system.

Thank you for stopping by!

 It's your fellow Ravenclaw, Fall :)

Text Copyright© CahmFall™2017

The moral right of the author has been asserted.All rights reserved. This story has been published subject to the condition that it shall not be reproduced or retransmitted in whole or in part, in any manner, without the written consent of the copyright holder and any infringement of this is a violation of the copyright law.

This story is currently available on Wattpad. if found elsewhere, either complete or partial, I would be eternally grateful for the alert via DM.