Six or two eyes, eight or two legs, it seemed in this very moment it had been the visions of a man walking by and bearing in mind the scene before him. The vision of one is a adversity to the tranquil streets people crave in the lit up town, the other a everyday life situation of the creature being fed; long lived satisfaction after the meal of a quick little fly, so quick its capture had been the most filling meal in a stomach behind the most strong and lethal of acids.
A small buzz was all it took to know it has been around, and even if your mind processed the thoughts swift enough to take a smack at the pest below on your arm, its transparent wings lifted it off with ease. It was just a common housefly; however this one seemed different, for you deemed it with a tremendous irritation, even without a smile on the smallest of creatures, your mind led you to believe it had gotten away with a feeling of satisfaction.
It went from one to another, buzzing in circles and even ignored while it enjoyed itself gazing at the others from its height. When landed on a new prey, it pierces in without their notice, the taste of blood refreshing and from time to time dull. It leaves its mark, and unlike any other, it leaves its prey suffering. The demise was a mystery, how a creature so unlikely to hurt had come out and left the other weak, itself with a feeling of victory.
The arachnid had it's insects to feast upon daily. It didn't take much to make it hungry. If you had just so happened to land in its web, the many eyes would gaze upon you. Every insect of this backyard knew this web was no web to land in. Sure, every web is something to avoid, but many webs are also a percentage of the time incapable of keeping you trapped. Some of these, your struggling body breaks free of the sticky like threads indicating you that if your escape had failed, your an instant meal to a mouth of venom.
This particular web was built large between two branches; the sun made it stand out, the sticky silk like threads reflecting a glimmered yellow as it lived there, calm and peaceful as long as no insect made a unwanted visit. Every time it just so happened one flew into the golden web, their death was immediate; a no way out, dead end. Fast, venom so painful and running through your veins, it was always time to say goodbye to the small quaint backyard in Ikebukuro.
She played with her brother in the grass, running around in this backyard. They hid in sheds, climbed on trees, and ran so much until they tripped on their very knees, grass stains on their elbows and scratches not getting in the way of their bubbly laughter.
"Ew, sick! Check this spider out! It's huge!"
She ran over, eyes now widened in terror, "Let me go get dad to kill it-"; with these words, the brother grabbed his siblings wrist before she made a dash for the back door.
"No. Let's just leave it."
"Why?"
"It just doesn't seem right to kill something that might help us!" a cheeky grin formed on his round face, both front teeth missing.
"Help us? No, I don't care! It's scary and big!"
He sighed as if his sister had been oh-so simple minded, "My teacher told me that spiders eat other bugs. You don't like bugs, so if we leave it, it'll eat all the bugs you don't like."
She pondered this... In the end of this conversation, both agreed on letting the arachnid be. It had been a good choice, considering this spider had been the cause of many deaths of his sisters fear.
All but...One.
One that escaped from the web many times, flaunting it's ability go in and out the trap. This fly loved it, and this arachnid grew more and more hungry for the quick body he tried so desperately to wrap and break into. It was hopeless, as this fly knew every way out, every weak point of these silky and old, yet very strong threads.
Outside on the streets, the feeling of home sweet home faded every step of the make it into blurring lights, a bug going unnoticed due to the loss of tranquility, cabs and horns zooming behind yourself, colorful lights and crowds of people all in vision.
The older woman noticed this inside her apartment. She stared below down at the people feeling uneasy. Her hair was tangled into stubborn matted knots, over-sized clothes hanging on her skinny lanky frame. She was mental, being taken care of by her sibling to make sure her schizophrenia and over paranoia hadn't acted up to dangerous points. It was a chore, to say in the least.
Her brother looked behind the curtains and saw something expected on these streets of Ikebukuro. Shizuo, the tall and viciously strong man of this area was one to stay away from, and here he was again after Izaya, what to him was a little pest he'd do anything to get his hands on. It was space that needed to be respected in order to not deal with being under the feeling of kill by Shizuo; space constantly disrespected by the shorter man, the one who grinned so wide and bared his teeth like a very animated and pleased cat.
The chase was on, as ritually, and so the words escaping the mans mouth had only been "Wow, just...Wow."
The sister stumbled away from the window she was by, practically tearing the curtain away in anxiety to see what her brother had been interested in.
Her heart beat grew rapid, "We need to get the cops!" she screamed, throwing her arms in the air, "He will get me again! He will get me again! They need to be thrown in priso-"
Before her yelling continued on, the brother interrupted sharply, his tone serious and loud enough to shut her up, "It was just a dream, your brain is making it seem real, okay?" his voice now shook, "they are just stupid assholes out to get eachother! Can't you see that? Can't you see they have nothing to do with you? For fucks sakes, you don't even leave the house!"
"I don't care!" her voice screeched, "he knows me! That man in the fur jacket knows everyone! He will get me! I am going to die from him, and this whole world will LAUGH AT ME!" she threw herself on the floor, shaking and sobbing violently, her nails digging into her knees. Her breath hitched repeatedly as her mind raced over and over to thoughts of her death.
The sane one of the two got down on his knees, clutching her shoulders. He had a gleam in his eyes, narrowing halfway to his pupils. It cut his loony sister into silence.
"I told you this before, and I'll tell you again. Shizuo will kill him. He is your hero, and he will kill everyone for us. It will just be you and me. It will guarantee your safety."
This was the same lie he used for three years now, the only one he's made that his sister had believed in. He used it religiously to calm her. It was his only key, like using a dog treat on a dog to make it do a trick.
She hugged her brother tightly, now giggling a little from the thought of the whole world gone. Her mind told her that her and her friends were safe if this happened.
The ones that sat on the couch named all different numbers and letters.
It was then back in this small backyard, the siblings were at rest in their beds. It was nighttime, the most quiet time to typically have in any household.
The tricky little fly flew back into the web. It had nothing else to do, seeming no one had been around, and so it stuck there waiting for it's fun little enemy to show itself.
And so the spider crawled over to it this night, a direction the fly had not been looking.
The siblings slept in their own apartment, them both peaceful now at this time of night, something appreciated.
Izaya walked inside Shizuo's house when he had left it open. It was dark in this room, smirking and waiting for the blonds presence, he stood beside the couch.
And so Shizuo was behind him without Izaya's realization. Izaya had looked foward, whistling to himself. Waiting..And waiting.
It was so dead tonight. Anticipation. The waiting and waiting of one. The hunger that grew in another. This waning half moon. This still air. This breath small. This clock...Gave a tick.
Night like no other.
Eaten alive, a meal so delicious. It was this small tick of time, the only tick of time that made this so quick and slick one feel so small. Broken wing, tossed blade. Feel so trapped and submissive, a unrecognizable feeling it cannot comprehend. He cannot comprehend.
This tick of time. Satisfaction of the other. The smell, the taste, the sound, the touch of victory making one shiver in a climax of this ticking tocking clock. It awaited this moment, this feeling. He awaited this moment, this feeling.
Blood green, blue, red. You coulden't see, and it didn't matter.
The night one was left on the web in a mush. The night the other thought would never come.
The night one was left on the couch a shaking mess. The night the other thought would never come.
Victory and defeat, results varying.
With a tick.
Tock.