Chapter 3
Duality
Dawn began to break jut over the horizon, the buildings faintly illuminated, cast with shadow that hide from the sun. It was calm, that morning, in the twentieth ward, although, the excursions of yesterday left one Rize, who lay sprawled in her apartment bed, a little numb. She had slept little in the night, her mind wondering towards that blond, and as she finally rose from her bed, she could only stare at things in minor regard. It was as if her gaze was past the object, her mind not all there. The ghoul stood and drifted about the rooms in her apartment she had procured through her own means, walking about like a ghost haunting its old living place.
Making her coffee, completely on automatic, Rize found herself looking out through the window, watching the peaking sun in her long, pearly white, night gown. The soft cloth reached little more than her knees, barely, though not made of the finer things, was just cotton, woven from some factory she knew not of. Despite her more elegant nature, she quite enjoyed simpler things.
Behind her even now, stood her kitchen table, simple strong oak glossed by varnish, and a basket sitting atop it, which had fruit in it at one point. It wasn't just the fact that she could not eat the fruit, that she later threw out, it was more that she forgot it was there-having grown used to ignoring human food-until it began to get rotten. Finally, she just tossed it into the small garden, the few squirrels outside that scurried about eating them despite it rottenness. She merely chuckled then, their animal antics making her grin for no particular reason.
"Uhmm..." she blew out the sigh, breaking from these musings, still a little groggy.
"I wonder what Naruto's doing." She thought aloud, no real contempt in her voice. What happened to her last night was a strange thing indeed, because no one just suddenly starts glowing, and threatens to end your life, unless you were in a manga or anime. Well, she thought, a human you could do that to. Yes, indeed, it was very easy for her kind to do so, especially one as strong as her, but no, no one so easily could threaten her life, unless they had incredible backing to their own power.
"Which he has." She spoke with pinched lips then, some contempt sneaking into her voice, wondering what she would do now.
She could, just leave the man alone-and by extension Kaneki-but, Rize was not the type of woman who, 'let things go.' Because of this, she had to think of something to get close to Naruto once more, because it seemed he was far stronger than Rize gave credit for. Forcing her way was out of the question, and using Kaneki as a hostage would make him very pissed. But, by all means, she absolutely just had to get another taste of that mans godly flesh, the divine sinew that made up that tough tissue, for nothing else could compare to even that trickle of blood she had the first time they met.
Clicking her tongue, Rize pondered her solution, knowing that the answer would come soon enough.
The man who defied the binge eater, himself, was just getting out of bed, shaggy locks of blond in a disarray that anyone else would comb, but it was normal for him to have those spiky tips, and so he only gave a slight rustle to let them stand a bit taller from the slight downward flat it had to the top. With that, he set himself to get ready for the day, heading for the kitchen as he heard the coffee pot finish its gurgled steam-having set its timer for when he would usually wake. The whiskered man poured himself a cup, and traversed the slight mess of his small-ish apartment. Throwing on a simple orange jacket and a pair of blue-jeans, checking himself up and down briefly.
Feeling good and confident, he slipped on his black boots, downed his coffee in a single gulp, placed it in the sink, and headed out the door.
On the streets, Naruto took slight leisure in his step, a smile fringing his lips. Kaneki, she was an interesting sort, soft and docile, but, he could see something else, brimming there, just at the edge of her dark gaze, ready to be released. Oft, he wondered, if this world could offer him anything except that persistent hopelessness of getting home, and, he now thought that maybe, through this girl who's gaze was much like his when he was younger, provided that hope he needed.
"Oh..." Naruto halted his internal thinking, realizing that he was already at his destination, and, a young Kaneki not far away, standing absently with idle eyes that faintly drifted about, until they found him. He greeted with a soft grin, waving, and she returned a quick little raise of the hand, a particular, awkward, smile on her face, hesitant but glad to see him.
Blue hoodie, dark jeans, black and white pair of sneakers, all just simple, and it would seem, for her, perfect to her nature.
"So, you decided to come."
She looked away.
"Hey, I know its a lot for you know, but bare with me. I promise it will all be good in the end."
Her head tilted back.
"Naruto, I don't know. I've never been a...well, I just don't know what to do..."
Smiling, he said, "that's alright, neither did I coming to this...land, but that's why we are here, the people here will help you, help I hardly could find."
Her brows lifted in slight surprise, but a smile persisted soon after, believing him.
With that, both turned towards the doors of Anteiku, stepping inside, with Naruto behind the half-ghoul. Stopping briefly, Naruto held his feet firm, breathing deeply the scent of coffee and people, and, ghouls. It was true, that he may have come here once, or twice, but hardly often to be remembered, but he remembered the few he met here. It was little more than that of eating, no such mission to be taken place, but he did meet a few characters of some interest, though they would not remember him.
Speaking of the devil, one such person, a ghoul, a girl, just younger than Kaneki, came to their attention, even as they moved to sit down-Naruto motioning for Kaneki to seat herself. He felt rather than saw as most if not all staff giving feint glances their way.
"Hello," the waitress spoke softly, now standing firm by their table, and with respect, continuing with, "how may I help you today?" She inquired, eyes flashing to him with slight unease now, in her unassuridy as to who-or what-he is, eyes looming slightly with hesitance. But, not soon would her eyes drift to Kaneki, nose twitching ever so slightly, and something else entered her large, dark blue eyes, a slight narrow of them growing noticeable.
"Yes, I would like to start with a coffee for me, vanilla cream. Kaneki," he tilted his head to the ponderous lass, "what do you want?"
Her lips stuttered when both of his eyes locked on hers, added with the waitresses, and she barely got out a word, but, coughed the stutter out, and had asked the same for herself. Ever so much, his lips tiltered down, almost as if in disappointment, or pitied in its glancing appearance, but she did not notice, or seemed to not, and smiled with an awkward curve to her lips, to the waitress.
"...Is that all?" The girl asked, writing down the orders before pushing the pen and notepad down on the front of the black skirt she wore. The girl had asked it in a way that insinuated that she was suspicious of them, or more specifically the blond man, thinking of him more than what he was, more than a simple costumer.
Touka did not trust these two, the stutter'er smelled of a ghoul and human, both at the same time-which should not be possible except in myth-and she smelt fear on the older woman. Fear that maybe she and this man were found out to the potential bad intentions for Anteiku, or something or other that was ill willed towards this place, her home of sorts. But, that other one, that man with whiskered visage, he could be with the CCG, investigating even them, who served both humans and ghouls indiscriminately with discreetness at their touch.
No, he could not be from them, those ghoul killers, he had no suit case, and smelled different from the rest of them, the humans, yet not entirely different. Not wholly human, but the other part was not ghoul, something she both felt tinges of fear from, but also of intoxication. Whatever he was, she was sure of herself in knowing he had bad intentions, she could see it in those eyes of his, that smile, it was vile!
"-ease?"
"Hm?" Her cheeks rosened, realizing she had gone off and forgotten he was there.
"I said, 'miss. May I see your manager, please?"
Touka began to worry, not for the fact that he may be a part of the CCG, but that the old man might be angry with her for ignoring a customer. The man seemed to see her worry, and waved it away, telling her it was strictly business. That, actually calmed her to some extent, and as she turned, she cocked her head back, telling them:
"I'll get your coffee and get the manager," she told, walking away with a hurid pace, still with anxiety in her voice.
Naruto watched her go, a slight smile now playing at his lips as he turned his head back to Kaneki.
"Hey, why are you trying to get the managers attention?" She asked, brows knit in slight confusion, wondering what he was up to. He gave her a smirk, the curl of his lips not too uncanny or indiscriminate to that of a sly foxes. She seemed to shy away, head and torso edging slightly back from it.
"These people, aren't what they seem, and I will bet an arm and a leg that they'll help us."
Kaneki raised a single brow, but soon lowered it when two cups of coffee were lowered to the table, the slight clink as they hit the wood sounded softly. Naruto's gaze shifted up, to greet that of an old wrinkled mans, who smiled with amicability, a friendliness that was not false. That waitress girl stood behind him, looking 'round the older man's side, to peer at Naruto, brows raised with the ever light tinges of red pricking her cheeks.
The old man, Naruto had found out, was the manager of the establishment, wearing the slight variation of the waiter clothes the guys wore here. Dress shoes, with straight, unwrinkled dress pants, both black, were tied by a belt above, a vest just as pitchly colored covered a long sleeved button up shirt, vertical stripes of grey and black running along that. His face, well he was quite wrinkled for sure, but looked no more than sixty with those kind eyes of his, peering down like a gentle father, the grey of his receding hair though claimed his age to be more than that.
"Hello, I hear from Touka-san here that you have inquired of me. My name is Yoshimura, and I will gladly assist anyone, especially one who is so polite to my staff."
The man bowed to Naruto, and asked the whiskered blond, and Kaneki, to follow him to the back of the cafe. Naruto smiled and bid thanks to Touka, taking his coffee as they went. The girl watched as they walked away with her manager, smiling ever so slightly with a wave. She wondered what they would discuss, at least for a brief moment she did, but soon her curiosity wavered, finding it better to let the wise old man do as he will do, know his judgment was best.
Naruto sat once more in a chair, Kaneki at his side, coffee in hand, sipping it some-breifly-before smiling at the old man. Yoshimura did like wise, sitting opposite of the blond and-by the smell of it-a half-ling. He wondered with brief fascination to the concoction of events that led them here, for surly there was no stranger pair than them, and most likely it was the strange and harsh world that produced them, the same world they now found themselves tethered together by fate. It was not only the smell of the two, the girl having a waft of both human and ghoul, and the man-although human-had a distinction of something else there, just beyond the flesh and bone.
Yes, there, in the depths of the whiskered ones happy glint that perpetrated his eyes, there was something hidden. Joy shielded that thing beyond, a void-perhaps-which held nothing yet everything in of itself that could be contained there. Faintly, the old man saw something in both their eyes, something shared, the emotion driven heavily-yet more so in that of the young man's-that was biding behind that shield of happiness, just waiting to get out.
"So, I have a favor to ask you." Naruto started, his voice even as the wrinkled old man continued to smile.
"Well, for whatever it is, I might be able to assist you, would it perhaps pertaining to this young girl you have brought with you?" Yoshimura inquired, still wondering in the back of his head what that emotion was.
"You're right, it does, and I think you know that I know what Anteiku is, but" Naruto paused, holding up a hand, "I have no sort of intention concerning bringing harm here. Instead, I've come to offer dear Kaneki to help assist you here, in return that you help her with this new...discovery she has made concerning some lineage of hers."
The old fellow still smiled, leaning back now in a less formal way, seemingly relaxing from a well hidden tension he had. A brow now found itself raised to the blond, but still, that smile persisted. He asked, "whatever reason do you mean? We serve coffee and other things, food that tastes well for even those with a particular taste, and I assure you that if she was hired, Kaneki would be well taken care of." His voice wavered on slight playfulness then and there, in that little tidbit of what he really meant. It was a tease of course, Yoshimura made it that way, it was not often he had the opportunity to be cheeky in his supposedly stoic old age.
Naruto's smile widened well, understanding and even letting an initial chuckle to escape him, glad to know Kaneki would be taken care of, and he could finally get back on task with what he was originally seeking to do. So, he stood with a soft wooden pair of feet, and the old man came standing too, both shaking the others hand. Naruto cocked his head down to Kaneki, a fox grin coming up the side of his face.
"Well, you're hired!" He told her as he began to leave.
"W-what, hey, wait, what do you-"
Just as he was about to go out the door, Naruto turned on his heel, raising a brow to her.
"I just got you a good job, they'll take care of you, and teach you what you need to know."
He whirled again, ready to leave, coffee still in hand, when Kaneki called again.
"B-but...I thought you were..."
"What? I did my job, its all up to you now, build yourself up with your own intentions and dreams, with the help of people who are experienced."
And finally, with that, Naruto left a confused Kaneki, but, he left her in good hands. Though, he would come by, once in a while, maybe watch her go home to make sure she would not be jumped by a gourmet or any other nasty lot, including-
"-here's your coffee, Rize."
Naruto's gaze snapped to the side, ears twitching at the name, eyes glinting meticulously with animosity towards the purple haired woman. She sat, thanking a waiter with a large, bulbous nose, sipping on her coffee as he left. She sat the cup down on the table and flitted through a book before stopping on a certain page, already starting to read. She had yet to spot him, and he wondered though still, if she had followed him and Kaneki here, intending to continue what was left off yesterday. If so...
Well wait, he told himself, assuming would make an ass out of me, his thought continued.
So, instead of opening up a battle between them, most likely to attract unwanted attention, full of blood and screaming, he opted instead to sit down across from her on that round table as she read that book. Her eyes shifted up with annoyance at first, a silent scowl that the Touka waitress had often given him, but soon it turned to surprise when she recognized him, brows shooting to her hair line as a queer frown slanted her lips down.
"Hey." He greeted, eyes glinting with a softer glance, leaning back in his chair to visibly relax.
"Hi." She too greeted, though her eyes strained, as if confused to him just suddenly sitting there. Faintly, she wondered if he had planted one of those pronged daggers on her, but obviously, he had not, for her back felt no pain. So, however strange his sudden appearance might be, the question remained...
"What are you doing here?" Rize, now regaining her composer, placed her book down with control, eyes falling into that cool gleam, and her brows and her lips no longer strained as they heavily had before. He seemed to ponder that question, almost jokingly, humming in mockness to her.
"I could ask the same." His voice lightly portrayed that cheeky nature she expected when he was not fighting, and because of it, rolled her eyes.
"Coffee and a good book, you? You seemed to be the one who's stalking me now." Haughty were the words tipping on her lips, superiority leaking from the words. The blond chuckled, and came back, snapping out with-
"-well look who's talking, at least I'm smart enough to leave well enough be, usually at least." He lied at that last part, but she had no reason to know that.
"Oh hohoho. You have jokes. Hehehe, it doesn't matter," her eyes flashed with that red incarcerated by black, continuing with, "I didn't do anything wrong, so you're the one who's stalking me." Venom was in her words, but he did not flinch away as she had wanted
Naruto smiled, genuinely, realizing that this was nothing more than coincidence, she came here often and it just so happened that they came around the same time. So, he waved her off, chuckling some to lighten her up. Rize leaned back much like him, relaxing a bit more, finding him to be a strange one.
"I think we just came in by accident, so...just warning ya though, Kaneki's gonna start working here so, well hell, you already know what I said, but...I wouldn't worry about it. Leave her be and don't bother her, and we're good," he stopped his slight joking, lifting a fist up to her, "right?" he finished, waiting.
Rize looked from his fist to his face, gaze shifting between the two for a short moment, before a smile drew itself across her face. She too lifted her fist, pounding it with his, before briefly bringing it back down to her lap. He did the same, standing and pushing in his chair, lifting his coffee and downing it. He put a hand to her shoulder, and on his face she saw something else, it was a gaze which resolved to the stoic.
He turned away from her as a folded piece of paper fell from her shoulder. Rize set her gaze to it briefly before drawing back up towards his retreating form, watching as Naruto waved without looking back.
Ding
And he was out the door, gone as the bell rung above the wooden frame.
Rize grabbed the note up, and unfolded it, wondering what he wrote down.
We need to talk sometime, come by my apartment. It read thusly, with an address scribbled along the bottom of the words. She looked back up, peering at the door he had exited, and a smile protruded through, her interest peaked.
A/N
Hope you guys enjoyed the chapter, been busy this week with other stuff, but, I am here, and have delivered this. Mainly, I wanted to bring the players and characters that you the reader will mainly support or see as someone that you can relate to, and later that is true for others, but this will be the main cast as Naruto try's to find his way home. But, since introductions are done for the main people, we can divulge into the more interesting bits from now on.
Also, because of the late update, or the extended absence, I have decided to add on the first chapter of that horror novel I told you about. You don't have to read it if ya don't want too, but either way, have a good week.
:^)
Shattered Memories
Chapter 1
Wake Me Up
Murky darkness, dank and hot, sticking to his skin like pitch, swallowed him in its gullet, shutting its razor teeth over him, clamping down so that he could never be free. So dark was it that he could not distinguish shape, and so fallen in this pitch he could not hear. It was like he was thrown into an ocean of ink, bleeding into his skin as he sunk ever more into the foul depths.
Then, white, blinding light came down on him as his eyes snapped open, nearly blinding him with its sheer brightness, and he closed his eyes tightly shut, wishing only partial darkness to close out the blinding of the light. He opened his eyes again, and this time, his gaze was not perturbed, but he still had to blink away the clouds of heavy sleep until he finally did see.
The light that had blinded him earlier was nothing but a flickering bulb of light shining out from a drop ceiling, illuminating the room he found himself in. He turned his head and found that it hurt very badly, as if he had struck it. But the pain faded, and he was able to see that he was lying in a bed, a hospital bed to be exact, the railing down for him to get out. But he looked past that, towards the window that out looked the night.
He sat up, with some grunting, and swung his legs over the edge, noticing that he was in a hospital gown, dotted with blue flowers. He paid it no mind though, and hopped off the bed, nearly jumping at the cool tiled floor. But pain, almost searingly so, ripped up below his chest. A sharp breath of air escaped him, and he held it for a second before releasing it in quick bursts.
It soon faded and he pulled at the gown's collar, looking down at what had caused such pain.
Bandages were wrapped thickly around his rib, and a little splotch of blood where the cloth was bulged the most. It was a dull color, not bright as it would have been if it were fresh, but he reminded himself not to move too much, lest he open the wound. What wound was it, anyhow? Why was he here, in a clinic, being healed? What happened to him?
As his thought went through his mind, a startling realization came to him.
"What's my name?" His voice was harsh and parched, and he not only found that his name was not in his head, but that he couldn't remember who he was. What did he do? Was he an important person? Did he have family? Why was he patched up and put in this hospital?!
That last thought startled him the most, surprisingly. But he latched onto it, because it was something he remembered, a hospital, a place to be healed. It was a memory, his memory of a word, and it was something to have in his head. But soon, it wasn't enough, and his hallow voice cried out to know more, to know who he was.
With a slight limp-probably lack of moving for however long-he went towards the end of the bed. For some reason, he knew that they-doctors or nurses-had put a clip board there, so as to let others know who he was, what his blood type was, anything else medical was, so that they could operate accordingly to any situation.
He only cared for the name, however.
When finally he limped to the foot of the bed, his heart nearly busted from the confines of his ribs. The papers were ripped, nearly shredded from...something. Bits and splotches of red trickled across the board, of what was rendered left.
He fell to his knee's, a crushing weight of defeat thudding across his broad shoulders, an abrupt melancholy spirit clenching his heart. He was less fearful of the blood, figuring that the doctor who operated on him has some blood left on him when he made a report, and upon finding the splotch, ripped the old away and was off right now to go and get another.
When he looked back up at the clip board, he saw that at the top, on the left side, was his name, or at least, his first name.
Hope leapt in his chest.
"J-Johnathan." His voice cracked, hoarse from the lack of use. "M-my name, is Johnathan."
A crack of a smile began to play at the fringes of his lips, but too soon a splitting ache began crashing down around him. He screamed out in pain as images passed through his teary vision, pinpricks of light so indiscriminate from one another, shooting through his brain, arrows to pierce his mind. Then, whispers began, hushed, quiet, yet the storm inside his head raged like a beast, tearing him apart until nothing remained, until he was lashed and whipped on the inside so many times until he could feel nothing. He was becoming nothing, he was to become a shell! The monster inside kept jerking him closer and closer to the depths of inky blackness, until! Until!
UNTIL!
It stopped.
So suddenly it ceased, the maddening headache of which he never knew before, just, stopped. But its power remained over him, a hot blanket of numbness flooring him still and evermore. But, that too, faded, back to that nothingness that he had felt not so long ago.
His legs, they shook, knobby and weak from the affliction he had endured just before. But, soon, he stood fully, erect, a sentinel with a name. That being, Johnathan, John, a name with which he could no longer wipe from the fringes of his mind, neither is it one he would wish to vanquish from his brain. This name, John, it was his, he was John, and he would be amiss to forget it.
John decided that since the question of his name-at least the first-was answered, he'd now have to figure out the rest of his life. His eyes trailed back down to the clip board, seeing it in such a strangled manner with a splash of blood surrounding his name, formed yet another question in his mind.
"Where is here, exactly?"
He slid his gaze around the white stucco ceiling and to the patterned floor. Then finally, his eyes did find the door. He shuffled towards it, stumbling a slight, legs growing stronger the longer he remained awake. He reached out, touching the cold metal of the round handle, and turned the cold steel. A soft click sounded, and he pushed.
He gave a sharp curse.
The door was not budging, probably stuck.
With the door leading no where, he decided it best to turn to the window, see if there were anything outside to at least give him an idea to where he was. With only a slight limp-and a feeling of strength returning-he came to a large window, a slight breeze filtering out the bottom and lift the the curtain a slight, kind of like a ghost quietly swaying.
Parting the veils, he bare to the sight of a beautiful night.
The stars, pinpricks of twinkling light shining down, as if each were a far flown lantern, held aloft by the slight wind. And there, the moon, so large and round, bright and full of brilling light, casting down to illuminate the plain below. His gaze descended, seeing a large pond, reflecting the moon in a distortion of mirrored passion. It was such as a sight that he opened the window fully, letting the cool breath of air kiss his skin. He breathed deeply of the honey scent, so much so that his lungs could not carry much more, until, he finally had to let go.
When he released his breath, he found the lake once more with his eyes, and saw another reflection there, but this one was not of nature, but rather, of man. It was a sign, letters pressed into stone, with long wording above and below. With the reflection however, it was backwards. He took this opportunity though, wording out the letters in proper order.
What he found cut through the beauty of the scenes set before him, a cold iron sword swung through it all, leaving his breath in a hitch of horrified shuddering.
The sign, with which should have given him comfort, or knowledge of his location, instead, presented him with the realization-the terror!-of exactly where he resided. The sign, it read this:
Atheos Sanitarium
At those stabbing words, he crumpled, his gathering strength, all but gone, leaving him to lay on the ground, clutching his sides, the pain of knowing coursing through him like a hot spike driven deep within. The truth that he-whoever he was-is, insane. That he was placed here, because he had done something horrid. This thought coursed through him, filtered all rationality into that of regret. How else could he have received the wound he had? He must have assaulted someone, they retaliated, and after doing whatever it is that they did, knocked him out.
It all made sense to him, he being so crazed that he could not remember who he was, and the mental spike driven into his skull and filling his mind with whispers and voices not his own.
But what if the blow to the head fixed all that?
The great gnashing of his teeth haltered at the voice. Small, glassy, and high pitched it was, but at a whisper he could only just hear. This voice, this whisper that resounded through the inners of his mind, spoke out against the madness-yet it was also proof too of it.
"I-I'm not...crazy," John spoke, shaken and stirred up, quailing beneath that singlet thought, its frailness armed against the pressing melancholy insanity. Perhaps, he was not crazy, anymore. Maybe he was not as mad as a hatter, or at least, he wasn't that insane, raving mad and all.
"Alright...John," he thought, pausing, trying to get his name stuck and permanent in his mind, "your in an insane housing, the door is locked, and you yourself are now only slightly crazy, no longer full blown." He told himself aloud, trying to sort out his thoughts. "If I am to prove my sanity, I have to get to a doctor, tell them and show that I ain't crazy, and get the hell outta here."
With this new resolve, and the impatience to wait for a doctor, he raised himself up, unto his feet, that gathering strength fixing itself on his slightly broad frame once more.
He strode back over towards the door, seeing if he could get anyone's attention out in the hall. He knocked, a few soft blows, calling:
"Hello, anyone there?
Nothing.
He rapt against the door once more, this time his fist coming down harshly, and when he was about to call out once more-
-BANG!
John leapt back from fright, feeling his skin raise and curl, his heart slamming into his chest, about to run away from the brutish sound.
This time, someone else had hit the door, and this time, someone else called-screeched-out to him.
"Is anyone in there!" A garbled and misshapen howl came from inhuman lips, tripping John and sending him on his rear.
BAM!
The door buckled from the next blow, the sharp clang of steel on steel raising the hairs on his arms on end.
"LET ME IN!"
The next words were shouted from a beastly throat, spat out in ear wrenching horridity, almost a hand it was, wrapping its sharpened digits against his skull, threatening to pulp it, a grape to be pinched into a soggy mess, leaving nothing.
CRACK!
This time the door was hit, whatever monstrous thing that was slamming against the door, had left a fissure running down the doors middle, and in the midst of the crack, in this crevice of sundered steel, he saw the nasty and gnarled face of the monster. Barely human in any right, twisted like barbed wire and left in a permeable grimace. The thing snarled with what could be at best be a satisfied grin, full of wretched and blackened teeth, rotten to the core.
"Hello neighbor, care for a cup of tea?" The inhuman thing cackled.
John snapped out of his terror stricken mind and turned around, pushing the window as high as he could.
"Don't go!" It wailed, hitting the door once more, an angry desperation to its distorted tone.
John quickly set his eyes down to see that there was no way he could simply jump, but neither was he willing to let that maniac get him! The terrorized man whipped his head to the side, seeing a ledge, barely a half foot wide, sticking out just below the window frame, seemingly wrapping all around the side of the building. He thought little of it though, as the monster about ripped the door off its hinges with yet another swing of whatever it is that it yielded.
John had no mind of finding out what that was.
With fearing the inhuman thing behind him worse than falling, he stepped out onto the brick ledge, hoping it would support his weight.
BACRAM!
The door gave a loud screech of pain as the thing busted it open. John moved across the side of the building as best he could, inch by slow inch, hoping that the monster was too large to make it on such a thin hang of brick.
It appeared, head thrown out the window, whipping around in search for him. The inhuman being finally set its disfigured gaze on John, smiled its sick smile, and proceeded to clumber itself atop the ledge. It opened its mouth and gave a rutheful howl, a cackle of sickening wretchedness, a hunter who had found its hunted.
"Neighbor, come drink tea please! We's have a great time!" It bellowed with a plagued joy, yet in its dead hollow eyes, John saw the pain that would come to him.
"WE WILL MAKE MEAT PIE OF YOU!"
It leapt, swinging a cleaver, its silver flash before his vision the next instant.
John barely dodged, rocketing his body back, almost beheaded by the kitchen utensil.
The thing slipped from the missed swing.
And it fell.
Fell.
Fell.
Fell.
Fell.
All the way down it went, screaming and roaring with a betrayed grimace of twisted skin folds, dry and hoarse was his voice, with this single word bellowed:
"NAIBHOR!"
Thud.
On the cold ground, it lay still.