I AM BACK. AND (if I can be frank) BETTER THAN EVER. I HAVE BEEN INSPIRED BECAUSE...SOME OF MY FICS ARE BEING TRANSLATED.
The lovely Shoich has offered to translate my fics into Russian so that more people can read them! :)
And thus, I...was...INSPIRED! TO WRITE!
So, yeah. More fic for ya.
Sirens. The one thing that Kurt remembers very clearly is the sirens. His young ears had picked them up easily late at night and when his eyes had opened, he had seen the flashing lights outside his window. He had gotten scared. Why were the police there? What was going on?
He got out of bed and was half way down the hall when he heard a blood-curdling scream come from outside the house followed by the shouting of a man. His parents. Kurt ran down the stairs, taking two steps at a time, and skidded into the kitchen to get to the back door of the house. His feet kept catching on the legs of his pajamas and his hands fumbled with the doorknob. He heard more shouting: the police, he guessed, kicking through the metal gate.
Kurt finally got the door to open and ran out to see what could have been the set of a horror movie. Cops were everywhere, flooding in through the front yard and flicking their flashlights everywhere. His father was huddled over by the corner, a few policemen trying to get him to move. He was frozen on his spot on the porch, not even noticed by the police yet. He tried as hard as he could to understand what was going on. His eyes took in the entire scene and then something bright caught his attention from the corner of his eye: blood. Blood everywhere: splattered on the wooden fence, and the porch, and soaking patches of grass. There was a thick streak of the dark red substance that spanned the porch and that's when Kurt realized that he was standing in a small pool of it. He wanted to faint but he was too hyper-aware of what was going on, too filled with adrenaline, so he settled for letting out a high pitched shriek.
A nearby policeman looked in the direction of the sound and saw the frightened, little boy standing on the porch, one of his pants leg soaked in blood. He quickly rushes to the boy and grabs Kurt's arm.
"Son, son, are you okay? Are you hurt?" The policeman asked. Kurt could barely see his face through the tears that were flowing freely from his eyes now. He didn't even know what had happened, but he knew it was bad. It had to be bad. He could feel his stomach turn into a dark pit of dread and nothing good could have happened if his stomach was doing that.
"M-my mom. Where's my mom?" He said once he realized that the only person he hadn't seen yet was his mother. The policeman's face turned grim. He didn't say anything to Kurt, just wrapped an arm around the boy's shoulder and led him out of the yard to one of the ambulances that had been called in. An EMT saw him and took him from the police officer, helping him onto the back of the ambulance and wrapping a blanket around his small, shivering body.
He could see the EMT trying to talk to him, but all he could hear was white noise. And sirens. The harsh, blaring sirens…
Eight years later, and he still wakes up to nightmares of sirens blaring in his ears and blood dripping down his leg.
His mother. Her body, ripped to shreds by a monster. The police tried to tell him that it had been a very brutal murder, not some sort of monster. But Kurt knew. Kurt knew that it had to be some sort of monster or demon that had killed his mother in the middle of the night.
Burt Hummel had been trained by his father who was trained by his father who was trained by his father, and so on and so on, for hundreds of years to do one thing: protect mortals from the hell that lived underneath their feet.
And Kurt, being the only child and, even more so, son of Burt Hummel, was destined to be trained in the art of killing demons.
He tilts his head to the side to read the clock by his bed. 2:12. Kurt groans, throwing his hands into the air before smoothing them over his eyes, getting rid of the eye gunk that had settled over the night. He flips the bed covers off his body and gets up, walking over to the windows on the other side of the room. He can see the moon shining in the summer night. Kurt's glad that they don't live in werewolf country. He and his father would be busier than usual during the night.
Kurt runs a finger along the bottom of the window sill, checking to make sure that there is no break in the salt line. He then checks the lines around the air vents in his room and at his bathroom and bedroom door. He returns back to the middle of his room and catches a glimpse of himself in the full length mirror in the corner.
He pauses and walks closer to the mirror. Kurt runs a hand through his over grown brown hair. He really does need to get it cut; the length just makes it easier for creatures to grab on to him. He pulls his shirt up to inspect the wound he got from a Bajang* earlier that month. The cut had been deep, but Kurt's dad was perfectly capable of giving his son stitches. The wound was already healed up and was now a light pick scar that ran from the bottom of his hip bone to just bellow his belly button.
He lets his shirt fall back down and yawns. He really does need to go back to sleep. There's so much he has to do before school starts in order to ensure that nothing will go wrong while he's in school. Kurt crawls back into his bed, pulling the covers up to his chest before flipping over on to his stomach. He folds his arms under his pillow and tries to go back to sleep.
Kurt doesn't even know what is just around the corner.
*Bajang-A vampiric demon with the ability to take the form of a cat.
Yeah. I googled types of demons for you people. You better be happy.
So yesssssssssss. This will be my senior fic since LNTD was my junior fic. Don't know what pairing I'm going to do tho.
Klaine? Kurtbastian? Maybe even Kurtofsky? WHO KNOWS!
REVIEW AND TELL ME WHAT PAIRING YOU WANT THE MOST.