Hello! SourBlueFreezy here! So this is my first story! Exciting stuff, right?
Anyway, if you encounter any errors please send me a message so I can correct them! And constructive criticism and any other type of feedback is always appreciated!
Also, I really need to stop switching to past and present tense mid paragraph (if you could call them that).
WRITING IS HARD.
"She died-this was the way she died;
And when her breath was done,
Took up her simple wardrobe
And started for the sun.
Her little figure at the gate
The angels must have spied,
Since I could never find her
Upon the mortal side."
― Emily Dickinson
Icarus
Chapter 1:
A Little Bird Safe In The Nest
Matthew Williams awoke not with a flail of arms and white sheets, but with violet eyes flashing open, the palpitations of his heart thrumming in his throat, and his body rigid with fright.
As the last fragments of the nightmare faded into static, to be kept in the back of his mind, a sense of warm relief flooded his bones, relaxing the tight band of terror that had constricted around his chest.
Wiping sweat of his brow with a hand shaking in a fine tremor, a sigh left Matthew's lungs in a trembling gust.
Looking at the alarm clock on his bedside table with bleary eyes, it took time before the numbers resolved into intelligible digits instead of swimming and fusing together in a kaleidoscope of red L.E.D. lights and black plastic.
The numbers gleamed brightly when they solidified into a recognizable time of day.
Or should he say early morning?
"God damn it…"
4:26 AM beamed happily at him in a wholly annoying and condescending way.
Matthew felt his eyelids narrow into irritated slits, convinced if he glared hard enough at the seemingly innocuous device it would melt into slag or burst into flames.
Needless to say, neither the former nor the latter happened.
'Why…? Could I at least wake up from a night terror at a decent time?' Matthew thought, not with a little bit of self-depreciation.
Rolling over onto his back and letting out a groan that echoed around the room, Matthew swung his legs out of bed, grabbed his glasses from beside the accursed alarm clock, placed them on his face, then heaved himself out his bedroom.
Letting out a yelped curse as he stubbed his toe on the doorframe, hopping on one foot for a few moments, The blond entered what could be called the 'living room' of his apartment, the size of a cubicle, an old beige couch with a large stain in middle of one of the cushions (coming from when he had fallen asleep with a cup of coffee in his hand, at least it was cold by then), and a T.V. placed on top of what should have been used as a dresser.
Heading to the small kitchenette tucked into the corner of the flat, he yanked open the fridge with a stiff tug, wincing at the shriek coming from the hinges of the old appliance, the door opening with much resistance.
'I really need to buy a new fridge…' Matthew thought with a grimace, grabbing a carton of orange juice and giving it a few brisk shakes before raising it to his lips. Placing the carton back on the shelf and closing the fridge with a squealing slam, Matthew proceeded to walk back to his room in a somewhat more awake fashion.
Flopping onto his bed with a loud exhale, burrowing his face into the duvet for a few seconds, Matt twisted his head to look towards his desk and raked a hand through sleep mussed blond hair.
'Might as well get dressed… Probably won't be getting back to sleep after that…'
Quickly shedding his plaid pajama bottoms, Matthew donned everyone's least favorite outfit, the 'I Don't Care About Finding A Mate' outfit, consisting of the loosest, most unflattering, and, consequently, the most comfortable jeans he could find and a ratty old t-shirt.
Walking over to his compact corner desk on which rested a laptop and cell phone, he picked up the phone, scrolling through contacts until he came to an appropriate name. Or, at least, someone who wouldn't completely mind at being woken up at this hour.
Im Yong Soo and Matthew had been friends ever since grade two. Yong Soo had moved from Korea and Matthew had been that one quiet child who was too introverted than the others to make many friends. They were complete opposites in terms of personality, but had the similarity of the fact that they were mostly the odd ones out.
The introduction between the two was… unsubtle to say the least. Having a person shout "I'M IM YONG SOO, NICE TO MEET YOU, DA ZE" at your bewildered face in broken English with a proud grin is one way to say hello, so, for similarities and differences, they stuck together, friends ever since.
Sitting down on the wheeled desk chair by the computer, Matthew proceeded to click rapidly on the phone's keyboard, sending a quick message.
You awake?
He waited a minute, then two, before a chime from his phone sounded.
I am now. God damn it Matt that was a stupid question, do you have any idea what time it is?
Yes, I do.
Then what has you up at this ungodly hour?
What do you think.
It wasn't a question.
It took a moment before Yong Soo responded.
Shit, sorry. It's just early, you know Matt?
Yeah, I'm sorry for snapping.
Don't worry about it. Anyway, you still having that nightmare? No offence, but these things must be depriving you of your beauty sleep Matt, you're starting to look like a zombie.
Yes, I am still having them having them. And I know I look like I'm about to keel over. Thanks for pointing that out.
Oh, you're very welcome, darling. :)
Looking back, it was always the same thing. Matthew bolting through an alleyway, his panting raspy in his throat, the sound of his shoes smacking against the filthy pavement reverberating off the walls, letting what was pursuing him know exactly where he was.
He could feel it, teasing him, coming so close to his turned back he swears he feels it's claws catching his shirt, feels it's hot breath misting on his neck. When he chances a look over his shoulder nothing's there, just faint laughter ringing in his ears, and keep running, Mattie, you have to keep moving, I'm still here, oh god it's still here.
Matthew bursts out of the alleys and into the safety of the well-lit streets. He runs to and leans against a lamppost to catch his breath, under the protection of the incandescent light bulbs. Tears of exhaustion and fear blur his eyes, and he gulps down air and saliva and terror, because you're safe now, you're under the light, and they don't ever come out of the shadows.
And the sad thing is,
Matthew's wrong.
Something launches itself at him, springing from the gaping dark mouth of the alleyway and into his back at the same time the light flickers and the bulb shatters in it's casing with a tinkle of glass.
Matthew is flung against the concrete with a scream of alarm, his chin colliding with it painfully and rattling his teeth, luckily not biting his tongue.
There are hands clawing at him, sharp and tearing, ripping at skin and fabric, malicious in their desire for pain, feel it, hate it, revel in it, for it is the last thing you will ever feel. Matthew tries to curl into a defensive ball but the thing rolls him over.
They rip through him, clutching at someplace deep within him that he didn't know existed, smothering something important, something more luminous than the lights he can see flickering along the street, bright as one of the stars above him.
Like wet leaves on a hot coal, the bright something starts to sputter and fade at the same time a hand with talons wraps around Matthew's neck, cutting off fresh air from his lungs. The oxygen quickly turns toxic, burning in his chest. His mouth opens in a parody of a gasp while his fingers scrabble and scratch at the hand obstructing his airway.
'I can't breathe!' Matthew tries to scream, his sight beginning to blacken at the edges, burning away like a piece of paper to a flame. 'PLEASE! Stop! What is wrong with you! Can't you see! I can't breathe! I can't breathe! I CAN'T BREATHE!'
Eyes, an unnatural hue of cobalt, snap open and the hand, it's nails digging into his neck, release. Before Matthew has the chance to try and crawl away, the same palm grabs his wrists and pins him in place. It's not finished with him yet.
"I told you to keep running, Mattie. Why is it that whenever we meet you never seem to listen to me?"
The voice has an edge of humor to it, as if Matthew is listening to an inside joke he doesn't get, and the voice knows it. Matthew, however, is busy once again heaving for air below this being to really care.
When Matthew recovers, he chances a glance at the one still staring above him but his gaze is held when it catches the eyes before him.
'They glow' is what sticks to the forefront of his mind, like embers, scalding with the amount of hate seething inside them. No human's eyes glow. No human's eyes are splintered at the pupils.
However, they are unlike a cat's in the fact that they seem to be generating a light of their own, not merely reflecting it. There is no light around them to reflect anymore, the streetlights have died, the stars hidden by clouds – when did that happen? Matthew thinks - the only thing he can see is the implication of a sharp-toothed grin and those unearthly eyes above him, the rest of this person's (he's sure it's a person, not human but humanoid, can feel it in the legs straddling his waist, the strong hand gripping his wrists. Not the monster his imagination spawned, or at least he hopes not) features obscured.
The eyes narrow slightly. The grin disappears.
"Why do you never listen? Then and now?"
Matthew doesn't respond, struck dumb with fear and slight awe.
"You have no idea what I'm talking about do you?"
He feels anger in the voice, yet not entirely directed at… him? Someone else as well.
The one on top of him snorts inelegantly, and he-
He – It's undeniable that the one on him is male, the voice rumbling and dark as the world surrounding them – clenches his other hand and it hurtshurtshurtsstopit aware that that hand is still strangling a part of him, that precious, shimmering part of him.
Matthew squeaks out a reply in hopes of ending the painagonytorture.
"No!" His voice, though strained and quietly screamed, sounds meek and afraid even to Matthew's ears.
The hand relaxes but does not let go.
"Very clever of them. Thinking they have robbed me of you this way."
Enraged, fuming, barely restrained fury coming off it in waves.
It grins again, the expression nearly splitting its face.
"But don't think I have forgotten about you, Matthew.
"I've finally found you.
"And I'm never letting you go."
That grip tightens and twists, tears and comes free and clutches its prize and Matthew screams-
Matthew snaps out of his reverie with a cry still echoing from lips, jolting in his chair, something cracking behind his eyes.
Subsequently, the abrupt lurch tilts the chair, the wheels sliding forward and dropping it, and Matthew, to the floor with a slam that rattles the room.
"Shit!" The peeved and slightly pained curse disrupts the cloud of fear enveloping the room.
Slowly rising and rubbing a throbbing elbow that banged the floor, Matthew irritably grabs the chair and sets it right.
His phone is chiming that he has a new message on his desk. Yong Soo still texting him no doubt.
You still there?
Matthew waits until the shivers that rack his body stop before answering.
It takes a while.
Yeah, just daydreaming. Sorry.
Hey, I was going to ask, do you want to do an early morning coffee run?
Sure. Where?
The usual haunt, The Tip. Crappy and cheap sludge to drink, but the waitress is hot. Plus, the oatmeal cookies are amazing.
Okay I'll see you at-
Matthew takes a quick look at the clock.
Six.
See you then, Matt.
Dropping the phone on the desk, Matthew rubbed at his eyes with the heels of his palms.
That had never happened before.
Those events had never transpired before.
He had never glimpsed the one chasing him before.
It had never spoken to him before.
The dream ended after him asphyxiating and choking and suffocating.
Dying.
'… What the hell is happening to me?'
Pardon me while I refuse to acknowledge this huge monumental piece of poo.
Oh and the random italics during the chase scene is to show that Mattie is slowly sinking into the changed dream/vision thingy? Yeah. I'm so clever.
Oh and just so you guys know, this is going to be AmeCan. c:
