NOTUM: Study Of A Nightwalker ✔️

Still

Why?

Firenze's cheek stung with tears, his mind grew muddled by the second.

Why me?

Who am I to be trapped in this nightmare?

Rich?

Powerful?

Particularly eye catching?

No.

Then who am I?

Firenze could see nothing but spots of light through the coarse material that covered his head. The chatter of the ladies had faded into a dull silence, one that he didn't like at all. The ground through which he was being dragged smelled wet and minty. It was cold, but his skin didn't shiver.

He rocked back and forth between reality and fantasy, emotions a hodgepodge of hatred, anger and disgust. He laughed at the silliness of his plight and cried at it.

Werewolves, ghosts, vampires. . . what next, faeries?

What is going on? What's happening to me? WHERE AM I?!

Let's just not jump into conclusions that you're nuts, okay Fi? Breathe and think.

Think, what could it really be?

Ready?

Let's begin.

The ladies.

Weird women, cult perhaps. Sanguivores as a part of their lifestyle or beliefs. Cannibals. Pagans, so satyr worship maybe, resulting in wool and hoof wearing practices, worst case, they are Satanists. Jumping? Tired mind of yours.

Lizard.

Hallucination. Dehydration and hunger, possibly fear.

Werewolf.

Ditto. Normal dog perhaps.

Bill.

Psychopath, poser, kidnapper of the workers. Looking for more victims.

Possible motives - Organ-selling lobby, cannibalism, destruction of factory and company due to hatred, for money, or plain insanity.

Barayik.

Multiple personality syndrome or hallucination, a mechanism evolved to cope with extreme stress or confusion. Perhaps due to rabid dog bite.

Verdict - I've snapped due to dog bite or hypertension.

Assumptions were made in rejection of the supernatural. The following are made in acceptance. Questions included.

Ladies.

Fairy or demon seductresses, blood suckers, unable to drink water or go out in the sun. Failed experiments perhaps. Refer to associated sources.

Lizard.

Unknown specimen native to this place. Reference required.

Werewolf. Ditto.

Questions?

What does it have to do with White Willow?

Think. . .

Think. . .

The next victim?

Its master maybe, ran home to protect him or her.

Bill.

Who is this guy? How is he able to talk to ghosts? What has he done to Barayik to turn him so ruthless?

Let's start investigating shall we?

Wakey Fi. Enough of this nonsense.

Firenze's mind cleared. The sheet that covered his head was torn off roughly, and it felt like sandpaper on his skin. It was the factory again and he was inside it, next to some sort of conveyor belt with bottles and a foul smell in the air. Firenze's eyes adjusted to the faint moon light coming from the window.

Third night this, or is it the second?

Barry gave him no reply. Rather the devious tenant who had been masquerading as Barry gave no reply. He was in total silence, surrounded by glistening steel canisters and barrels, with a single blue bulb flickering overhead.

Firenze saw only one of the ladies. She bore no resemblance to the perfect maids at the hotel, just their stark contrast. Hair frizzed and wild like a black halo surrounding the pale papery face, lips dry and blue, eyes changing colors unable to stop and framed with hunger. Firenze chided himself, it was Selby alright.

"Where's your sister?" He asked.

Selby glared at him,

"Long dead," She rasped, as she limped around the room as if she was waiting for someone. Firenze felt quite intimidated by the tone of her voice, even more so when the werewolf melted out of the shadows from behind her, bristling and snarling at him. It dropped a piece of white cloth at the Selby's foot and began to edge towards him, staying low.

Selby spat, "Nice pet lizard you've got there mister. A little too big isn't he?"

Firenze said, "I'm afraid I don't follow."

Selby growled and said, "How long have you been serving Bill Grey?"

"I've just seen him once or twice. And I do not serve him."

Firenze felt the garwalf's hot breath on his neck, but he kept his stand. He had done nothing, he was sure and he intended to prove it to them, even at the cost of his life. Liars flinch. He didn't.

Selby continued, "Tell your lord that he may be a king in his hamlet, but is none of ours. Not after the needles and the serums and the endless torture he heaped on us all just to save that monstrous bitch!"

Firenze chuckled and then laughed, "My dear lady, no one asked for your opinion."

The garwalf had caught the scent of mud. Of plants. He had heard the sound of rustling leaves but had assumed it to be the trees in the wind. His eyes were fast enough to see the Roggenfrau's lizard plunge from the ceiling of the factory and snap off the maid's neck with impossible precision. It saw the headless body collapse spilling more blood.

But he couldn't move, it was too fast, even for him.

He did not notice the heavy tail creeping up behind him. He did feel the life being squeezed out of him though. All the while the human he thought that he knew stared at him, eyes green as those of the lizard's.

His name was emptied out of his body with his last breath.