THE BEAUTIFUL ONES
Prologue: Freak
It was one o'clock at night. Most people should be in bed by this time, usually except insomniacs, kids braving themselves to last past bed-time, and convenience store clerks currently contemplating suicide by sinking to such depths that they have to take night-shifts. But by rights no one should actually be OUT AND ABOUT by this time. But Spoo was always one to buck the trend, and this time it was going to cost him...
He ran down claustrophobic alleyways, trying to shake off his pursuer, but everytime he turned a corner he could see the figure in front of him, somehow anticipating his every move. He would let out a yelp and run in the opposite direction, but the dark, shaded figure was always only a few steps behind him.
He had been lying comfortably at home, staring at the ceiling trying to will himself to go to sleep. He usually found it hard since he had to wake up at least once a night to take his medication. His skin was an unnatural shade of tourqouise and his eyes were small and mirror-like, like those of cats. All this was the result of a debilitating genetic disorder that he had to live with for every day of his life. He was allergic to animals, and in fact most plants. He had to bring a special bag full of nutrients to skool each day.
Of course this didn't exactly ingratiate him with the popular crowd in skool. He had a few friends but they were always the type that banded with you because they were in the same predicament. They never actually DID anything except sit there looking miserable. Even of they had planned something, Spoo's medication meant that often he couldn't even leave the house. Today had been a particularly bad day, with the skool bullies stealing his special lunch bag with all his medication in it. He had broken out in sores and was whimpering on the ground before they decided to throw it at him. Then they laughed. Even the sympathetic ones laughed with them, becuase you don't argue with them and retain some dignity. This alienation was contributing to his lack of sleep. He was experimenting to see if "crying yourself to sleep" actually did work.
Then...IT broke in. Crawling through the window and slashing the bedsheets and cutting him across the arm. He cradled the arm as he ran from the room, crying for his parents. But he received no answer. He kept hearing footsteps behind him and decided to make a run for it out of the house. His sleeve was soaked in blood by now, and every step seemed to irritate the wound somehow. He turned a corner and crawled into an open dumpster, hoping to shake the thing off. He kept as quiet as he could, his heart fueled by adrenaline and his arm stinging him. He listened to the footsteps slowly pass by the dumpster, and stop momentarily...
His cat-eyes were wide in fear, and his pyjamas were soaked in sweat and other substances typically fear-induced, though the smell of the dumpster would supposedly cancel that out. There were a few, long, eternal seconds of painful silence. Then the footsteps seemed to move away, and Spoo let out a sigh of relief as quietly as he possibly could. But his face started twitching. His skin began itching all over. He was left with the irresistable urge to scratch. This only seemed to make the itching worse. He realised in horror: he'd forgotten to take his medication! As the itching reached his arm-wound he couldn't help but let out a silent whimper...
The footsteps instantly stopped. Spoo froze in horror, but his skin felt like needles were poking through it from the inside. The footsteps drew nearer to the dumpster and finally stopped. Spoo lay as still as he could through the agony, hoping that the figure may just call this a false alarm. But the dumpster suddenly upended itself and Spoo was sent skidding across the dark, dank alleyway. Hands latched onto him, every touch sending slithers of pain throughout his nervous system, his skin turning red from the irritation. He looked and only saw a silver, shining object being thrown into him in a semi-circle.
A sharp pain entered his neck. Blood filled the interior of his mouth as it spilled from his neck and soaked the back of his head. He tried to scream, but the air with which to do so was escaping from his neck along with his consciousness. He could feel his body turn immobile, and his brain was starting to send out confusing messages as the blood drained from it into the street. The last sensory perception he could feel before everything turned black was sent from his ears, already garbled as his body around him slowly died. It was one word, uttered by the thing above him.
"Freak..."
TO BE CONTINUED...
Prologue: Freak
It was one o'clock at night. Most people should be in bed by this time, usually except insomniacs, kids braving themselves to last past bed-time, and convenience store clerks currently contemplating suicide by sinking to such depths that they have to take night-shifts. But by rights no one should actually be OUT AND ABOUT by this time. But Spoo was always one to buck the trend, and this time it was going to cost him...
He ran down claustrophobic alleyways, trying to shake off his pursuer, but everytime he turned a corner he could see the figure in front of him, somehow anticipating his every move. He would let out a yelp and run in the opposite direction, but the dark, shaded figure was always only a few steps behind him.
He had been lying comfortably at home, staring at the ceiling trying to will himself to go to sleep. He usually found it hard since he had to wake up at least once a night to take his medication. His skin was an unnatural shade of tourqouise and his eyes were small and mirror-like, like those of cats. All this was the result of a debilitating genetic disorder that he had to live with for every day of his life. He was allergic to animals, and in fact most plants. He had to bring a special bag full of nutrients to skool each day.
Of course this didn't exactly ingratiate him with the popular crowd in skool. He had a few friends but they were always the type that banded with you because they were in the same predicament. They never actually DID anything except sit there looking miserable. Even of they had planned something, Spoo's medication meant that often he couldn't even leave the house. Today had been a particularly bad day, with the skool bullies stealing his special lunch bag with all his medication in it. He had broken out in sores and was whimpering on the ground before they decided to throw it at him. Then they laughed. Even the sympathetic ones laughed with them, becuase you don't argue with them and retain some dignity. This alienation was contributing to his lack of sleep. He was experimenting to see if "crying yourself to sleep" actually did work.
Then...IT broke in. Crawling through the window and slashing the bedsheets and cutting him across the arm. He cradled the arm as he ran from the room, crying for his parents. But he received no answer. He kept hearing footsteps behind him and decided to make a run for it out of the house. His sleeve was soaked in blood by now, and every step seemed to irritate the wound somehow. He turned a corner and crawled into an open dumpster, hoping to shake the thing off. He kept as quiet as he could, his heart fueled by adrenaline and his arm stinging him. He listened to the footsteps slowly pass by the dumpster, and stop momentarily...
His cat-eyes were wide in fear, and his pyjamas were soaked in sweat and other substances typically fear-induced, though the smell of the dumpster would supposedly cancel that out. There were a few, long, eternal seconds of painful silence. Then the footsteps seemed to move away, and Spoo let out a sigh of relief as quietly as he possibly could. But his face started twitching. His skin began itching all over. He was left with the irresistable urge to scratch. This only seemed to make the itching worse. He realised in horror: he'd forgotten to take his medication! As the itching reached his arm-wound he couldn't help but let out a silent whimper...
The footsteps instantly stopped. Spoo froze in horror, but his skin felt like needles were poking through it from the inside. The footsteps drew nearer to the dumpster and finally stopped. Spoo lay as still as he could through the agony, hoping that the figure may just call this a false alarm. But the dumpster suddenly upended itself and Spoo was sent skidding across the dark, dank alleyway. Hands latched onto him, every touch sending slithers of pain throughout his nervous system, his skin turning red from the irritation. He looked and only saw a silver, shining object being thrown into him in a semi-circle.
A sharp pain entered his neck. Blood filled the interior of his mouth as it spilled from his neck and soaked the back of his head. He tried to scream, but the air with which to do so was escaping from his neck along with his consciousness. He could feel his body turn immobile, and his brain was starting to send out confusing messages as the blood drained from it into the street. The last sensory perception he could feel before everything turned black was sent from his ears, already garbled as his body around him slowly died. It was one word, uttered by the thing above him.
"Freak..."
TO BE CONTINUED...