By Joe! It's been years!
But enough with my dramatics. I have finally gotten back into writing after all these years of busy high school work and projects. And let me tell you, it feels wonderful to be back. I haven't completely gone away. As you can see, I've gotten into other fandoms and continued to read other fan works. Now I'm trying to finish my stories and start new ones while simultaneously writing an original. Anyway, this is new and I hope you enjoy it.
Bill bobbed his head up and down as he walked through the Gravity Mall. He had a small smirk on his face despite the responding grimaces and sneers.
"Like a Shooting Star!" The blonde sung along with the melodious voice blasting in his eardrums. He could feel the raw happiness and energy in every note she sung; Shooting Star spread this everywhere her voice could reach. So no one could blame him for the kick in his step. A hand on his shoulder stopped him, and Bill traced is back to a working Thompson moving his mouth.
"Huh?" raised an eyebrow at the worker while taking out the earbuds. Thompson grunted in irritation.
"Bill, this is the third time that you're late!" Thompson walked slightly behind the blonde as Bill went in the employee's section. He placed his phone and earbuds in his pockets before changing into the movie theater's vest. "I can't keep making excuses for you. The supervisor has already threatened to dock my pay!"
"Relax, Play Dough, that pint-sized munchkin won't touch your precious paycheck." Bill said as he checked into his shift and stood behind the snacks counter. He grabbed a small popcorn bowl and filled it.
"This is serious!" Thompson took the half-filled cup from Bill's hand and threw it back into the machine. "Eating the food; showing up late; getting me grilled by the boss." The angry brunette locked his eyes with Bill, brown eyes angrily pinning blue ones. "This is your final warning, Bill: if you can't clean up your act, I will have no choice but to fire you."
Bill's shift went by in a slight haze. He walked out of the employee area much later that night and into the bathroom across the narrow hall from. He grasped the sink as he looked at his reflection. Brightened blonde locks lay on top a pair of blue eyes on an angular, pale skin. It all rested on a lithe frame. His looks have gained him plenty of attention, but so has his personality.
He began leaving the theater when he stopped at the front board right next to the ticket counter. He looked at the picture of a purple banged girl with a purple shirt next to a redhead.
MISSING
Name: Tambry Johnerson
Description: 5'5"; dark purple hair w/ light purple highlight. Brown eyes and cylindrical ear piercing in the top corner of her left ear. Last seen July 18th, 2018.
A hand on his brought the blonde from his thoughts. Bill looked to the side to see Wendy looking at the picture with a frown and crunched brows. He looks down to see her fingers mindlessly grazing his own, but he understands. He grasps her hand in his and squeezes. Wendy gasps sharply with widened eyes and looks at Bill. She looked at him and he gave her a smile. Something must have looked wrong because she squinted her eyes in suspicion.
"Wouldn't want the same to happen to you, would we?" He asked with a little chuckle at the end, looking the redhead in the eyes. She looked outside the doors behind Bill, then focused back on him.
"No." She spat, roughly taking her hand back. The glare in her eyes intensifying with visible anger and something else he couldn't describe as anything other than hesitation. "I guess not." Wendy backed away from Bill, eyes never leaving his, until she passed the doors and left Bill in an empty room.
'Yeesh, what was that for?' Bill asked himself as he left the theater and walked home.' She looked at me like I was about to do something to her!' The path grew more and more isolated in the woods, a trail nearly invisible to the untrained eye, when it opened up to some old apartments. Looking up, he could see a woman smoking on the ledge of the second story balcony, shaking her head at the illuminated screen door. She turned her head and smiled at the young man.
"Puddin!'" she squealed, knowing the high pitch made him cringe, and stood on top of the edge with her arms and legs spread.
"Call me that again, and I will rearrange all of the orifices in your face." he laughed, his smile matching hers. She cackled and jumped, landing in a crouch and rolling to his feet. To anyone else, a curvaceous woman in scanty fabrics barely passable for clothing, clinging to your upper thigh would make anyone weak in the knees, but Bill was just amused.
"Did you have a bad day, daddy?" She asked in a high-pitched voice, smiling wider at the disgusted sneer that came upon his face. "I'm sure I can make it better."
"Save that for your customers, Py." The blonde stated. The two shared a playful glare and walked to the side of the front of the apartment complex, ignoring judgmental glares and harsh murmured comments on their way inside.
In the small apartment lived 'The Henchmaniacs' as Bill deems them. It was a cramped, little one-bedroom (because Pyronica easily won a room to herself), two-bathroom place that all six social outcasts shared. They considered each other friends, despite not seeing each other most of the time due to their jobs. The two who come home the least are Keyhole, a repair man who doubles as a hacker, and Amorphous Shape, a very flexible flight attendant. Bill only knew they were home by the loud snoring and shed clothes in the hamper. Pyronica was a burlesque dancer who worked two towns over and only worked at nights, so he usually caught her when one of them was on their way out the door. Teeth was the most socially acceptable of them all with his obsession with collecting (you guessed it) teeth.
Teeth and Paci-Fire, a very small and bulky caretaker with anger issues towards most people (but ironically, not children), were currently sitting on the carpeted floor playing 'Spin the Person' with a beer bottle decorated to look like a human. It didn't make much sense, but they weren't known for having any.
They cheered as Bill walked past them and into the kitchen, taking out an old food box from the fridge and checking it to make sure that it was still good. After heating the meal, he sat down to chat with the two odd men while the pink-haired female went to her room.
"That woman will be the death of me, I swear." Teeth claimed, still swooning at the doorway.
"She's not the only one." Paci sneered. The jovial conversation became tense. After a moment of awkward silence, the caretaker continued. "I just-"
"Please not today, P."
The babysitter opened his mouth to speak up, but closed it at his friend's pleading look. The three shared weird, albeit a bit tense conversation while the game started anew.
Later that night, laying in the bathtub as his designated bed with Shooting Star's new album softy playing through ear buds, Bill's thoughts had dug up all that was buried in the back of his conscious. Wendy's expression was one of many he had seen over the years. It wasn't always as obvious as spiteful words and hardened eyes. Sometimes the fear could be seen in the recesses of bright eyes and the dimples of smiling faces; other times the hatred was shown through shouted words and twisted sneers. All because of superstition.
The music dulled with his consciousness.
All because they thought he was one of them.