This was something I thought of after drawing a picture and I had to write it down.
It'll probably be short, maybe a few chapters.
It was a dark night, shadowy clouds blocking out the minimal amount of stars in the sky, and a chilly breeze swept leaves up off the ground and through the air. The houses all had their doors locked and curtains closed, and parents were probably just starting to tuck their children into bed.
Derek Morgan pulled his black coat tighter around his body, shivering as the wind whipped leaves and the occasional litter around his feet. He glanced over his shoulder nervously, and picked up the pace of his walking, though he saw nothing but darkness behind him. Derek shoved his hands in his pockets and put his head down, walking faster and faster, staring at the dirty sidewalk, until he was knocked into by a very powerful force
It sent him to the ground, falling forcefully on his rear end, and he let out a loud, "Oof!" as he hit, glancing upward to see what hit him. He saw nothing for a long moment, but then in a blur of white and purple, a tall and skinny man appeared.
"Oh my goodness I am so sorry, sir!" the man shouted, leaning over Derek and holding out a bony hand to help him up. "I really do need to watch where I'm going, I hope you aren't hurt!" Derek took the man's hand and stood up, brushing off the seat of his pants and chuckling.
"I'm fine, man. I should've been looking," Derek said, only now glancing up at the man's face. "Oh," he muttered. He was tall, a bit taller than Derek himself, with pale skin and wild brown hair. He was dressed like a college professor might, a tweed vest and dress shirt rolled up at the sleeves, though his apparel was far from appropriate for the cold weather. "Aren't you cold?"
The man chuckled, waving his hand dismissively. Up and down his arms were tattoos, pyramids and eyes and lots of squiggly lines. "I'm fine, I don't really get cold. Besides, I can't see as well when I'm wearing lots of clothes," the man told him, and Derek nodded in understanding, though the statement struck him as incredibly odd.
A gust of wind blew the man's hair up quite suddenly, revealing a wide open eye tattooed in the middle of his forehead. When the wind had died down, Derek raised an eyebrow, biting his lip. "Well, I'd better get going. My roommate's expecting me home for dinner," he stated, and the man smiled broadly at him, taking up his hand once again and shaking it.
"As should I, as should I. Jennifer despises when I miss evening gathering. It was truly a pleasure, Derek Morgan. Get home safely," the man said pleasantly, walking away once he'd released Derek's hand. For a moment, Derek stood in shock. I never told that man my name... he pondered, confused.
"Hey," he called as he turned around, but there was no sign of the man anywhere. That was weird... he thought to himself, his brow knitting together. Derek looked around several times, wondering where the man could've gone in such a short amount of time, but decided it would be best to keep walking after a minute.
Who knows, perhaps he imagined it.