On A Light Note
Chapter four Creature Phantasms
This Chapter warning include: Murder and all the wonders that come with it. Note, I am aware of some miss types and mistakes in the doc please comment to help me fin them.
Thank you!
[ 10 Days Before Yagami's Hospitalization]
His breath came in quick short pants, his lungs struggled feeling like the bellows to some great fire. He chanced a look over his shoulder hair whipping about his face, turned cutting in the knifing wind.
He stumbled, tripped spiraled into the ground.
No!
His hands scrambled for purchase there had to be something here anything he could use?
They came up empty.
The street lay quiet as a morgue. Not even one car drove past.
Something wet slid down his cheeks.
He wasn't a religious man by nature now, he prayed with abandon.
His beady eyes scanned his surroundings again hopes drifting away as more stars winked into the night sky.
Someone knelt beside him and he clutched his hands into fists squeezing his eyes shut.
After a tense moment, a hand brushed his face he whimpered.
Minutes trickled on hours to the sound of his ragged inhales when no retribution instantly came he chanced a look through cracked eyelids.
Giant smoke clouds like dragon's breath puffed out with their every exhale.
Their smile was as full of jagged teeth as the mythical winged beast.
" No, no no, stop, NO-PLEASE!"
[5 Days Before Yagami's Hospitalization]
A black screen flickered on, white letters seemed almost ominous as they stepped across the monitor.
L had just finished a adding an admittedly impressive stack of sugar cubes to his tea. His hand kept its circle stirring motion without pause or surprise in the computer suddenly forbidding appearance.
*Clink*
*Clink*
*Clink*.
The spoon nicked ceramic as the cubes jostled about, the only sign of emotion. Wide dark eyes reflected on the letters multiple meanings and narrowed.
"Trite"
[2 Days Before Yagami's Hospitalization]
Spindly fingers lifted one photograph, twirling the macabre scene about he devoured a scone with the other hand.
Soft buttery goodness gave way and the crumble of sugar and scone deposited itself everywhere.
A few white pieces fluttered onto a particularly gory image, making for a stark contrast against the red.
L watched with mild disinterest as a pair of scraggly teenage boys played ball outside and lingered on the street corner.
The muddy redhead with poor fashion sense seemed to be in a deep argument with a possibly blond borderline punk dressed figure beside him.
Eventually, the wild hand gestures grew a bit more heated then abruptly stopped and an agreement was reached.
He hoped the redhead won.
A moment later a shrill ringing sounded in the apartment jolting him out of his reverie and startling him out of his chair.
He scowled at the ceiling and hopped back to his feet to got fetch the ringing nuisance.
L-lifted the device and answered it in his singular manner holding the thing at arms length as if the mobile's very existence was to blame for his earlier mishap.
"..."
"You know what I am going to say"
The voice began dryly even tones almost strained, Roger sounded tired for a man of only 40.
He imagined that even now thick grey peppered the prideful man's familiar brown hair.
From the soft noise in the background, he guesses Roger is opening a drawer and pulling out some of his famed cognac along with a glass.
The smooth sound of liquor being poured (a sound that had become more frequent as of late) echoed over the phone.
That bad hmm.
In a fit of childishness, L let him stew for a moment after everything he was due that much.
"I will be there."
He promptly hung up.
Nothing more needed to be said.
[Day of Yagami's Hospitalization ]
Blood isn't sinister by nature. It is an almost incendious creature when left unto its self however, this is only when inside the body.
First, it lurks beneath the exterior a dark blue creating web-like traces in the skin. To prominent and one might mistake it for a festering disease but, L knows diseases, sickness, perhaps better than anyone else.
(He sets aside a mental note to get that heaviness that hangs about his chest checked out soon)
Nonetheless, it's startlingly tempting, he can almost understand the urge to make fine slices coaxing out blue to bleed prominent red.
He supposes there is a sort of beauty in the scene before him though twisted at that he feels that no beauty though should make you want to gag.
Even the truth is not known to have such a wretch worthy effect.
The girl looks strangely frozen a sort of suspended still that is at odds with her running Nikes (TM) and track shorts.
In death, she is a pale waxen creature swathed with spatters of bloody color.
Her head is sitting at a weird angle, ponytail askew and face tilted upwards.
The cop in blue beside him looks green.
Rookies.
L has the thought that for a first crime scene this is a good enough one for the young cop to puke all over those shiny immaculate black shoes of his.
For all the violence that charges this space, there is yet something reverent in the air.
A sense of dignity that remains with this woman even in death clinging to her as only a shadow of former grace.
The killer took the time to gently close her eyelid instead of leaving the orbs to peer listlessly. They even carefully crossed her arms.
There is nothing outwardly bold about this murder (other than your run of the mill eccentric serial killer). No new innovative artistic license taken, or boldly drawn sign and a pretentious calling card left. He hasn't been challenged on some grand scale.
It's instinct, he feel it, knew it.
That If this were a horse race, the bell had just dinged go.
No longer was the killer satisfied with the pre-show lineup.
They were ready to start the game having grown tired of putting themselves through the paces.
The killer has chosen his racers, more importantly their champion..
Those who had been groomed for this would head for the fair turf and soon be left behind.
L was interested to see who could handle a little dust in their eye.
The forecast was bound to be stormy, good thing he had never had a problem with digging his heels into the mud and slugging it out.
All bets had been placed, the odds
L can taste it, he knows this will be no easy match.
It might even prove entertaining, for a bit.
Now with a loud clang the gates have opened.
He turns to leave and his eye and foot rather catch and hit on something sending it rolling with a crinkle of plastic from the light kick. Being the planeteer, he is not L of course bends to pick it up.
Inside the bottle, her water bottle he corrects (the little blood spatters that decorate it and the feminine flower all but confirm it's the victims) sits a rolled up piece of paper.
Yes, L thinks a sort of small smile blooming at the corner of his face, let the race begin.