Author Games: Empty Night

Finals: Brandy Alva

The world was large. It was enormous compared to the ants that marched across its surface and the satellites that spanned overhead. The Earth was constantly growing and changing too. From the landscape to the temperature to the technology that swept through each person's lives and built up skyscrapers and flew beyond the atmosphere, there was no stopping to its progress. For every step, it made there were a dozen more souls sitting on the surface struggling to survive. Through poverty or fame or famine or illness, they waded through the suffering that plagued the world knee-deep from decades before and marched on. The world housed billions of lives, each individual and unique, and within all those lives, Brandy Alva had lived more than her fair share.

She had been to France and London. She'd gone to New York City before the days of the Empire State Building and had hiked and scaled up mountains. There were lifetimes that barely pierced her memory now, of forgotten names and faces that'd once been closer to her than blood. Decades of her life that had turned to static lost in bars, surrounded by things she could no longer bear to believe had been as important as they once were. Brandy had watched the rise and fall of things that now only remained in history books, and one truth she had learned in all her years of living was that you never knew what you were going to remember - what was going to be important - until it had already happened.

Except for this. This one time, she knew.

The sun beat down lazily on the concrete outside. A thick fog of heat sat in the distant, shimmering and making the rest of the road hard to see as cars whipped by at blinding speeds, bouncing glares off their windshields. The smell of smoke rose in the air, cigarettes crushed into and ingrained in the sidewalk beneath the woman's feet. It was no longer something that bothered her nose, but a usual smell that barely registered as she took a long sip of the coffee in her hand, the to-go cup filled to the brim. A few droplets slipped back out of her lips before she managed to swallow, nose crinkled in disgust. It was more sugary milk than it was coffee, and the demon had always preferred it black.

A gentle breeze stirred the warm September air, bringing a fresh chill with it as Brandy turned her head to watch the front doors of the apartment. Already he was running late. It was no surprise, of course. Trying to get a teenager up early was like trying to rip a soul from a particularly stubborn vampire, time-consuming and not nearly as rewarding as you'd hope it would be. Others passed in and out of the double doors, getting their own early starts on the morning as Brandy's foot began to shift impatiently. There were a few tenants she recognized. Ms. Haroldson was out trying to walk her dog for the day, and a pair of boys she knew lived above them - purely due to the never-ending racket - had already ventured to the fast food place around the street and were busy unwrapping and devouring the combination of a pancake and egg sandwich as they disappeared back into the complex.

Finally, after another minute or so of impatient gazing around the neighborhood, Brandy spotted a black haired boy bounding down the front steps with a messenger bag slung over his shoulder. The fabric was brand new still, not a scuff mark in sight as he clutched the strap tightly to his chest. His lips were pulled up in the nervous, quirky smile that Brandy had grown exceedingly fond of over the years, and with a hand put out, she stopped him from barreling right past her and accidentally stumbling out into the street.

"Hold it there, mister," she warned, bending down to give Oz a further examination.

Her short dress brushed the sidewalk, and she leaned on one knee for support so that she was looking up at him with hands on either of his shoulders to steady herself. To Brandy's surprise, he had cleaned up extremely well. The button up was pulled on straight and most of the cloth had kept wrinkle free. Reaching out with a free hand, the woman went to work smoothing it once more for good measure and tucking a stray strand of hair behind his ear. She still hadn't got used to the blue yet. It'd been silver for so long that every so often she would catch herself surprised by his appearance again when he walked into the room. It did go well with his eyes, though.