Halloween time calls for a spooky story, and this is my attempt at one. It won't be terribly long and will be updated about once a week. I hope everyone enjoys the prologue.
If there was one thing Michaelson did not enjoy about being a park trooper, it was having to kick homeless people out of the park. The Central Park Conservancy did not, in their words, allow that kind of behavior or those kinds of people in their park. Michaelson hated it with every bit of his heart, but he also tried to lead the homeless to the nearby shelter.
Really, it was late enough that Michaelson would have just ignored the call and said that he didn't have time. Of course, some old lady kept calling the police about a suspicious person laying in the park, so it became Michaelson's job to clear them out. He carefully put out his cigarette and placed it into a small bag. The bag was placed into his pocket, and he continued to walk.
The description that the woman gave was unhelpful as well. All she said was that the man smelled like death and was laying under a tree. Did she know that she was in a park? There were trees everywhere. Michaelson sighed and continued to patrol the park. If he didn't find the man in five minutes, he would just leave and claim the man left. And if that old woman called the police again, Michaelson swore that he would find her and have a very stern conversation with her.
It was getting late anyway. He should have been off twenty minutes ago, and his wife was expecting him. His daughter was home from school, and he had been waiting to see her for months. All he needed was for his shift to be over. As Michaelson was about to give up on the search, he saw a foot sticking out from underneath a bush.
Michaelson stepped around the bush and stared at the rather large man that was laying on the ground. The homeless man seemed to be about seven feet tall, and he wore nothing over his chest. The falling leaves had created a blanket over him. Michaelson almost thought that he had found a dead body, but he saw the slow rising and falling of the man's chest.
"Hey, buddy. You okay?" Michaelson asked. He knelt next to the man and went to place a hand on his shoulder. A spider ran across the man's shoulder, and Michaelson almost jumped. He shivered and shook the homeless man's shoulder.
The homeless man didn't stir. Michaelson sighed and looked down. He felt for the man's pulse and relaxed as he found a steady one. Just a heavy sleeper it seemed. "Buddy. You have to wake up."
Michaelson shook the man's shoulder again but had no luck. He sighed and heard a leaf crunch behind him. Michaelson turned and looked at the small child behind him. He quickly stood and spoke, "Hey kid. Nothing to be worried about here. This man just fell and hit his head."
"I know," the child said. Their voice was scratchy and raw like they hadn't drunk water for a day. This child wore a jacket and pants. A hood covered their face, but as Michaelson blinked, he could have sworn they were wearing something other than a jacket. That was just his imagination though.
"Are your parents nearby?" Michaelson asked. This was going to be so much paperwork. Not only did he have to deal with the homeless man, but he would have to escort this child back to their parents. And, he hated any children that weren't his own.
"Always," the child said. They walked towards Michaelson and looked down at the homeless man.
"You shouldn't come any closer," Michaelson began. He stood and reached his hand out for the child. Before he could blink, the child grabbed his hand. A flash of steel appeared before his eyes, and a blade cut into his hand. "What the hell!"
Michaelson tried to pull his hand away, but the child had unnatural strength. The child pulled him closer, and all Michaelson could do was watch as some of his blood trickled into the mouth of the homeless man. As the blood trickled into his mouth, the eyes of the man snapped open. He ran his tongue across his lips and slowly sat up.
"You're late," the child commented. They shoved Michaelson away, and he fell backward. He tried to move away, but fear, or something else, kept him trapped in place. "Very late. What happened to you?"
"Talking with the old guy," the man said. He yawned and sat up. The leaves fell away revealing the man's scarred chest. It looked like he was covered in burns. "Who's that?"
"Some mortal," the child said with a wave of their hand. Michaelson tried to speak, but the child looked at him, and all his courage died in his throat. "Do not speak mortal."
"Is my lord ready?" the man asked. He stood and stretched, showing off a frail and pale body. "Is it time?"
"In a way," the child answered. They sighed deeply and looked the man up and down. "Are your beasts ready?"
"Of course, They have been waiting for my command," the man answered with a bow. "What is the command of our lord?"
"There has been a change of plans. The timetable is different," the child answered. Michaelson looked in between them and tried to process what was going on? What were these two talking about? "He wants you to follow my lead."
"Your wish is my command," the man said. The child nodded and shoved Michaelson to the ground.
"Eat him. Leave some evidence though," the child said. Michaelson opened his mouth, but the man grabbed him by the throat and picked him up. The man opened his mouth to reveal a row of razor-sharp teeth.
"Wait! Stop!" Michaelson yelled. The man bit into his throat, and Michaelson's choked screams filled the quiet park. The last thing he saw was something shifting in trees, watching with a horrified look. The child turned their head, and a cold grin came to their face.
"Good," the child whispered. "Go to Camp Half-Blood and tell the old beast about us. Have him bring the powerful ones. We will have a good use for them."