If You Don't Understand My Silence, You Won't Understand My Words

Spokes and needles appeared scattered across the bar's tabletop, colors of all sorts were laid out for the customer's view. I picked at them with sudden ease, amusing myself for several moments. "The red should be here by now..." I mumbled.

The woman behind me had been yearning to receive a free glass of aged champagne, attempting to lure the bartender by inefficiently running long, arachnid like fingers through her own newly bleached blonde hair. Unlike most women who try to seduce, she wasn't for the green cash. Her name was Quinn, but she was planning on using "Wendy" to lure him further.

Something the dead despise, even more than the living. The ability to reach into a being's thoughts, and listen to every scratch, shine, and detail. However, this can only occur with the living. It's impossible to hear the deceased thoughts, which allows us to more privacy.

And more secrets.

A slip of paper appeared in my fingertips, manila. The scent of scarlet was clearly visible, even more than before. He was closer. Smoke exited my mouth dryly as I sighed.

Perhaps this person was a beast, with large, wet fangs dug into the living. Eyes red and as guilty as the color is resembled. Concealed in a raven black cloak, bats swarming his existence. Nine inch nails, clawing into the trees alongside the small cabin structure. Height of twenty feet, like a Nightwalker. Crafted of only the darkest of the dark, inflamed within a hearth. Somehow fitting my exact description, in the most unearthly and scariest way possible. Shit.

The entrance door had been pushed open. Something had made it's way inside.

Notes

new chapter c: song credit from Nirvana's: All Apologies