Dollface stepped through the whitewashed back porch door and scraped her boots against the mat. Once sure her boots weren't dirty from the early spring mud, she stepped onto the bare wood floor of the summer kitchen.
Through a backroom, down a short, cozy hallway lined with pictures of clowns and the smell of bread baking, all the way through to the front of the house in a jean dress with overall straps. She looked up the stairs near the front entrance and passed them, paying no mind to the blackened space above them, and stood in the living room.
She stretched, muscles pulling tight then releasing from under her white turtleneck, feet arching upwards in her big boots. Dollface dropped down onto her heels, soles colliding with the wall-to-wall carpet in a bland beige color.
Dollface turned back and walked to the dining room.
It was a tiny one, but it was a dining room, never anything less.
A man sat at one end of the table, reading a newspaper.
He was very tall.
And very strong.
He looked up at her wirh unsmiling, dead and dark eyes. Dollface stood by him and let him tousle her blonde hair with his giant paw.
Dollface tried not to study his eerily symmetrical face and look into his black eyes as she stepped away.
He cocked his head, large hand resting on the table. Brown hair, dark and messy, fell into his black eyes.
Dollface blinked.
She walked down the length of the table and sat down in her chair, feet tucked under its tin wooden legs. She reached a paint smeared hand for a muffin.
The man studied her.
She openly studied back...
...A little frog laughed to itself, then said, "Dance."
The back door was cracked, the shadow didn't need a key she could easily get in for free.
Anyone would let her in, seeing how the rain was pouring down in buckets. She dropped her umbrella, legs dangling in the air.
No VIP sleaze could get her in or out of this filthy mess.
"Drink the Kool Aid and follow his lead, now you're one of us, you're coming with me."
The shadow's head jerked around, eyes so bright they weren't even blue as she crawled on alien spider legs splindling into sharp, thin knives.
The lights had been killed and the D.J. had been shut down, as evidenced by the twitching mass of shit and fur on the floor. A thin, footless leg slipped through the lump of metal and flash and pulled out as the contraption carried it's hot through the empty club.
Seems she made it past the bouncer, matting and dreadlocking brown curls and all.
Tonight they've taken over, no one's getting out!
And now what they're taking control, they'll get what they want and they'll do what you don't.
Besides, they needed a new home.
The legs lowered they're cargo, making black boots scrape across a tiled floor becoming more increasingly coated with a layer of dirt and glitter as they juttered through a doorway.
The shadow's head jerkily swung to an empty stage, staring at the pole lit with neon lights.
The only light left, except for the neon cyan eyes that glowed like hot silver embedded into her freckled face.
Her square jaw gaped open, black mold infused liquid spilling out.
"The predator…"
She sniffed with a flat, button nose, nostrils flaring and jaw snapping shut.
Her pointed, square ears perked up, trying to place the exact location. The legs carried her closer to the stage where chunks of green and pink fur had fallen in greasy puffs around the edge of the long stage.
A pot crashed. He head snapped away from her hunt and to a bar in front of a wall of glass bottles.
Wrong noise.
She stalked from the stage, licking her lips with a long, pointed tongue, more rotting fluids gushing from around and between crooked teeth and down to the floor in a sticky, inky mess. Crossing her bare neck skin like cracks on porcelain.
She looked up and saw a speaker attached to the wall.
A potential snack?
Perhaps?
No, something much bigger and better was afoot.
So.
Much.
Better.