Some Kind of Magick.
Disclaimer: Inuyasha belongs to Rumiko Takahashi in all legal aspects, while I who am a mere creature owns nothing.
Tags: AU, non-canon, horror, romance, spiritual, angst, hurt/comfort, mature (you know who you are).
Notes: Hello my pretties! Welcome to my first Fanfic! I've decided to make a late twisted Halloween Tale. This story was written originally as a drabble and will return to such at some points. Enjoy!
Song: The 69 Eyes - Ghost.
Chapter One: Ghost.
Gaunt footsteps echo in the night, falling in long strides. They are accompanied by the distant sound of a violin and stray clunky piano notes. The old suburban community is alive tonight and full of young souls wandering the streets. Rows of glowing houses are dressed welcomingly in Autumn decor.
Small Dollar Mart fog machines hide in foliage and props spew foggy white blankets. The creeping gray masses roll down eerily from porches and spread into the black streets. The sinful moon in its bloodlust beauty casts a spell which turns the blankets of human-made fog, ruby red.
The pale crimson light of the hazing red moon looms over the community and enhances creeping shadows with a red glow. A tall male donned in Edwardian Era Fashion appears from within the dark ruby haze. His appearance is skeletal and archaic, frail and unnatural, but fitting to his wears.
He acts in the guise of a dark ghostly groom in crimson fog, who promenades through the night dressed in a black velvet top hat. The clicks that follow within his walk comes from his old scamp-head cane. At first sight, his appearance is quite unsettling, though one look at the laced veil of cascading night concealing him breeds curiosity.
A light hymn to Saint Lucifer vibrates in his chest and escapes his lips. The noise flows out of the patterns of the veil laying against his aristocratic nose. The front of the inky lace of his veil billows softly against him in the Autumn breeze.
Mystic white rose petals lay scattered across the long train of his black veil. The lower lace is thick at the seams and left to drag along behind him. However, it is this train that is an oddity, for it does not drag. It only floats upon an invisible force that carries it two inches off the ground.
This mysterious character's display is beyond fascination's eye and is no less stunning. A vision of irrationality so sensational, and yet sinfully magical beyond any doubt. Alas, kind cruelty spawns from the veil, which causes adults to ignore the existence of his form.
Click, step, click!
Click, step, click!
Again.
Click, step, click!
One right after the other in repetition arrives such distressing sounds, joined by the noise of gravel crunching against the rubber material of his soles. Loud upon arrival but ending light as it came, the noise is as familiar to him as the sound of teeth crushing bones. Ghoulish goers hear him in the night but can't see him as he glides by them with ease.
Hearty children's laughter rides the moaning wind, bouncing from house to house within the neighborhood. Distant howls and beastly scrapes, garbled screeches and cackles, ominous cries and translucent forms work together to create the cacophonous symphony of All Hallows Eve. It is known as, night music.
He breathes in the musky, earthy air of the local Red Maples which shed their Autumn leaves into great damp beds below. Blending in with the earth tones is the fragrant spice of berries in their wreaths hang upon doors of neighborhood houses, some garlands wound around wooden rails and gates.
Falling into thought, The Groom slows to observe the bales of dry hay and plastic black baby cauldrons filled with Autumn Wings. He finds that they look fantastic, bringing a sense of creeping serenity to the world around him. On either side of him, the glow of grinning jack-o lanterns guarding porch stairs flickers in warning. The night meat.
They could be seen coming in bunches. Children, of all shapes and sizes, run wild across the cracked stone paths of the neighborhood. Some of these tasty little flesh snacks wore cheaply sewn fabrics and rubber to mimic monsters, others not, all while adult counterparts follow closely.
These horrible disguises would not fool his kind; many of his brethren would feast upon them this night. The faint scent of young blood and strangled screams far in the distance arrives, the sacred feasting has already begun.
His red eyes catch a split second show in the shadows between two houses. The half-nude bloody body of a near teenage girl with pigtails and an over-blessed goblin kneeling over her. In one last fit of desperation, her hand reaches out toward the street.
The pain she was feeling showed on her face as the goblin pulls her lovely slick pink innards from her body and wraps them around his veiny green arms. A gurgling noise rises from her torn throat as his dripping serrated yellow teeth sink into the meat of one of her pale luscious thighs. Too bad the groom's kind didn't prefer the taste of children.
He observes as children in their horror-holiday guise drop behind them various sweets like breadcrumbs, creating a trail for ravenous witches and voracious goblins to follow. The precious sweets so furiously sought for overflow out of the decapitated plastic heads within their grasps and are left behind. Forgotten. He found humor in the ways of these, simple mortals.
The expressions of these the candy holding heads range from slumbering to agonizing, and then to anger. The figure does not care for such conventional masks but looks through them for the rarities that hide among them. The twisted grinning perversion and gluttonous hedonistic smiles.
He visually remains ignorant to the curious stares he receives from young eyes and only continues at his slow pace down the road with a devious smile upon his sensual mouth. The shoes he wears glisten and glow with a crimson malevolence as he steps on the carcasses littering the black road. Orange gourd thick flesh remnants, stringy mushy innards, waxy seeds and broken, twisted stems. The suffering fruit of holiday torture.
The figure passes by one of these false creatures, a little porcine toad-child. Dull yellow teeth sink into the thick form of a candy toad the size of a Frisbee. Yummy, gooey, and green saliva dribbles down three chins, as grubby fingers with short nails dig deep into soft translucent rubbery flesh. The kindly figure creeping regards the toad with a tip of his hat when passing it, not once breaking the code of his stride.
His movements never ceased in their fluidity as he walked with a haunting gracefulness. He ventures through the town like an unsuspecting thunderstorm in the dark. His destination, a residence thirty minutes from the end of the housing track. An hour later, the ghostly groom finally broke his stride as he stood parallel to a pair of towering iron gates.
He releases a brief exhale through his nose in satisfaction. His old armor claw tips slip the old opaque pince-nez off the bridge of his nose. He opens his hellish rogue eyes to the night, viewing the residence waiting just up the road. A Victorian mansion. He replaces the glasses onto the bridge of his nose before beginning his ascent up the rising slope of the road.
Click, step, click!
Click, step, click!
Again.
Click, step, click!
Outside the mansion and near the drive around, was a male. The man waits, seated in a brand-new sleek and white Lamborghini. He is dressed unseasonably in a green A&F (Abercrombie & Fitch) sherpa lined premium fishtailed parka with a cream turtleneck and dark jeans.
He rests one of his wrists over the steering wheel of the car and taps one of his tan fur-lined Timberland boots in anticipation. He nods his head to EDM music. His blue eyes catch sight of his beautiful reflection up in the rear-view mirror. He spends a few moments checking his playboy face for flaws and then tests his breath.
End.
End Notes: Hope you enjoyed the first chapter of my fic! If so, please review! If not, thanks for giving it a chance!
Till the next moon- NF