The Witching Hours

The people of Deadwood wander the streets as the lights glow a sickly dull
yellow. Buildings rise out of the ground like ancient tombstones. Sidewalks lay perfectly paved, and the streets are smooth and unending. The people are well-off, and most residents live in luxurious manors. These manors line the neighborhoods like a fence. Deadwood was a sedated town. Nothing has happened in this soundless town in decades.
"Deadwood has had its first murder in nearly seventy years. A young man in his early twenties' was found asphyxiated near Manhattan street on October fifteenth," the screen displayed, "Sources say the man was faking homelessness to scam generous pedestrians." The strawberry blonde scrolled down his news feed ignoring the television playing in the background. The story was aggravating to the male; a male who believed if you were going to scam others that you deserve what's coming. His best friend, Nathan, was sitting adjacent to him and started a conversation.
Only it was a conversation about the event plaguing their screens and news feeds. "Why," Nathan quizzed, "would someone kill a man because he was begging for money?" The other stared at him seemingly pondering the question. In retort to the question Ashton, the strawberry blonde, speaks up, "Well, obviously, it's because he was faking being poor and homeless. To be honest, people shouldn't even be feeling sorry 'cause he is dead." Nahan sat there shocked. Never in his time of knowing his life-long friend had
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he heard something so inconsiderate come from the male. Ashton's nature was kind and forgiving, not that. Shocked, Nathan exclaims, "Ash, dude, he didn't deserve to die! Maybe a beat down from the cops, but not death!" Ashton just seemed to ignore the comment from Nate. Hours flew by, Nate was preparing to head home to his loving parents before classes the following day when Ashton's mother, Ana, walked in. The three said their goodbyes to each other and Nathan slinked out the door on his way home.
"Ashton," Ana spoke, trying to prod a conversation out of her son, "are you getting enough sleep? You look dreadfully tired." Silence ensued her question. Ashton slowly nodded before speaking, "Yeah mom, I am. It's just.." He didn't know how to explain his thought out loud. Stuttering on about mindless things and trying to piece together what he wanted to say, Ana interrupted, " It's just what? Has the recent event on the news been bothering you? I know you were close to him in high school, but I thought that you were friends with his kind of people anymore." Her interference of his thoughts seemed to help him find his words. "Mom, no. I'm not friends with him anymore. It just bothers me that people feel sorry that he died." Ash finally explains to his mother. She stands there, shocked by how he is bothered by the fact of grief. "Ashton, a man is dead and you expect people not to be upset about it?" She speaks. He stands from his seated position, his height almost intimidating, and speaks "Why are you sorry that a con man is dead? He deserved it. He was practically stealing from people!" Ana steps back, taking a couple of deep breaths. Judging by the empty pizza box on the table, Ash and Nate had eaten already. Softly she speaks up, "Why don't we
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both just head to bed? We'll talk about this in the morning. Okay, sweetie?" Softly Ashton sighs, nodding along. His mother was right it was late and the two of them exhausted from the day's work agreed on the decision. Ana smiled delicately, bidding her son a goodnight. Ashton slugged off to bed, waiting for morning to come.
The wind is howling, and the windows shake. Ashton sits up in his bed dazed and confused as to the time. He looks at his clock for what seems to be minutes; It doesn't move. Time has stopped, but the rain continues to chill the air. He screaming surrounds him, his hands are aching from unknown pain, and it all stops suddenly. The night becomes day, and the city begins to wake. Ash proceeds with his daily routine, and first is waking his mother up. As he opened the door he was met with a sight he would never unsee. Ana lay in her bed, seemingly asleep, with pillows thrown across the room as if she fought back against an unseen force. Soft blue and purple bruises littered her neck, and when Ash saw them he did what he thought was best.
The police arrived within minutes, and news reporters followed shortly. Lights flashing, and pictures being taken; meanwhile, Ashton sat there the grim reality settling in. His mother had become a victim of the murderer in Deadwood. Nathan brought him inside of his home to get him away from the cameras. Concerned Nathan asks, "Ash? You wanna talk about this?" Ashton's silence was an answer enough for Nathan. "I have a friend," he started, "her name is Valarie. Her parents left her when she was young. I'm not sure why though. You could maybe talk to her?" Ashton stared blankly at him, and slowly opened his mouth to say, "Nathan, how'd they get in?" The question leaves the air thick with silence, and Nathan calls his friend, asking them to head over.
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A knock at the door startles the two males. Nathan answers the door ushering the female inside explaining the urgency. "He just needs someone who understands," Nathan starts, "I'm no use. You're the psychology major here." Valarie slides over to where Ashton is and starts timidly, "Hey, I'm Valarie. My parents left me alone years ago. It hurts, doesn't it?" Ashton's silence left her feeling a little off. He was distant and unresponsive. Nathan shrugged softly speaking up "He's been like this since the morning. It makes sense though."
Months had passed, and the murders picked up, but they hadn't been televised like the others. Ashton, Nathan, and Valarie had all become close friends.