Willard Stiles slammed the front door of his mansion-like house. He quickly descended the front steps and then slowed down as he started to walk down the wet sidewalk. He took a deep breath as he quickly and nervously glanced at his neighbor's yard. He then averted his eyes back to the walkway in front of him as he made his way to the drugstore.
Crummy weather it was. It was dark with clouds that threatened to rain again. It was only half past three in the afternoon and it felt like nine.
Willard felt on edge as he finally entered town. He wasn't alone anymore. A couple women walked past him talking eagerly and taking no notice of him. A white-haired man was walking his blood hound across the street. And cars were whizzing past in every direction, making the noise almost unbearable. Willard tried to ignore the other humans as he quickened his pace despite the slick sidewalk. He wanted to get in, buy the damn rat stuff, and leave.
Apparently he hadn't been paying attention. A great force slammed into him from his left and Willard fell backwards. He lost his breath and coughed several times, trying to regain it. He felt a sharp pain in his head where he had hit the pavement.
"What the…?"
Willard sat up and stared at the man that had run into him. He was elegantly dressed in a black suit, white button up shirt, black tie, and black dress up shoes. An object that looked somewhat like a cane lay next to his leg where it had fallen. The other man sat up, shook his head, and stared back at Willard.
Willard was at a loss for words.
"I…I'm…you…we…" He couldn't get a coherent sentence out of his mouth. The other wasn't even trying.
"I…I suppose I wasn't looking…where I was going," he said quietly. "I'm very sorry I was in your way."
Willard could tell that this other man had been in quite a hurry when he had bumped into him. But now, he seemed to have his full attention on Willard.
"Uh…I don't know what…I was thinking…" Willard stammered as he slowly got to his feet, his legs trembling slightly from the fall and from the shock. He reached out a hand to help the man up, but he didn't take it. The other quickly grabbed his cane and shot to his feet.
"Whoa…it's ok…I just wanted to help you up, sir." He expected the man to run away for his eyes were filled with fear. But interestingly enough, he stayed glued to where he had stood up.
There was a moment of silence as the two men looked over each other when Willard again spoke, with a bit more confidence.
"Do you notice, sir?"
The other man cocked his head slightly and very slowly nodded. He too found it odd.
"It's rather frightening, isn't it?" Willard said with some laughter in his voice. "We have such similarity."
The other man's eyebrows furrowed and he tightened his grip on his cane.
Willard shook his head and laughed.
"My name is Stiles, Willard Stiles." He held his hand out this time for a handshake.
The other man did not make an attempt to take his hand.
"Well," said Willard, a little embarrassed from leaving his hand hanging, "do you live around here? I'm sure I've never seen you before."
The man shifted his gaze to the ally where he had come from, but quickly looked back at Willard.
"Are…" Willard felt uncomfortable asking but he felt he had to know. "Are you a mute?"
The quiet man held a look of thought. He was thinking something over. He then saw his face relax, as if he had come to a conclusion. He saw him reach into his breast pocket and pull out an unused pad of yellow paper. He flipped the cover over and pulled a pen out of the same pocket. He wrote something on the paper and ripped it from the pad. After he placed the pad and pen back in his pocket he folded the ripped piece in half. He started to approach Willard, but Willard took a step back.
"Wha…what are you doing?" Willard suddenly had a strange fear for his life.
The quiet man carefully placed the piece of paper in Willard's own breast pocket. Willard's heart beat faster as the man approached him. Willard felt frozen to the sidewalk, unaware of anything else around him as the man lifted his hand to his face. He barely caressed his cheek and Willard felt a shiver go down his spine.
Willard was then distracted by a strange metallic sound. He felt his heart stop as he saw a sword lift into the air and stop under his neck. The quiet man touched the blade right above the apple in Willard's throat. He didn't dare move. The man seemed to be listening for something.
Then Willard felt the metal leave his throat. He heard the blade being returned to its scabbard. The man put both hands on either sides of Willard's face and brought his head forward so that their foreheads touched. Willard stared back into the strange man's clear sky blue eyes. He felt it had been forever since his heart had taken a beat.
Fingers brushed his left ear and he felt the hand touch his hair.
The spell broke. The man yanked a lock of hair from Willard's head, causing him to cry out. The man screeched insanely and finally turned from him and ran into the growing darkness, the opposite from whence he came.
Willard finally felt his heart begin to beat again. He let out a breath he realized he had been holding. He was at a loss for words of what had just happened.
I could have been murdered.
He felt another shudder go down his back as the thought sank in. Normally he would've been terrified by the feeling of death visiting him. But something else was in the way of his fear. The man he had just encountered…he could've sworn that he looked just like…well, himself.
Willard again took a deep breath and let it out. Suddenly he remembered that the strange man had placed a piece of paper in his breast pocket. He carefully pulled the paper from its home and unfolded it. His eyes glanced at the one word on the paper.
Anthony.
He stared at for a moment longer. He thought about crumpling it and throwing it away, but thought better of it. He refolded it and placed it back in his pocket. He began to stride forward in the same manner before he had been interrupted. After a while, he finally looked up at the bright sign that hailed the drugstore.
You must have hit your head harder than you thought.