Member
ThatLostDude
Varshanka
udonoodles
BunniesOfDoom
Festive
Damycles
Hari
anothered
Marlowe
YankeeKyle could always recall the grip of worry. It belonged to him. And later he learned it was abnormal. In a way he had always feared the fear. That ‘almost knowing’. The odd things that followed the fear. That reinforced his gut feelings. It was a vicious cycle of bolting then resting, then running once again. It had become a way of life to run. To escape from the sense of dread that crept over him. It had tangled itself so deeply in his being Kyle wasn’t sure he could ever be free of it. Summer coming up and this new gig that was sure to change that. He would do personal study. Maybe learn a language. Make something of himself. Steel his gut and this intuition! It would be grand! A new future on the horizon. A turning of a page! An unwritten chapter! He would be-
A pang struck the lad and he practically tossed himself up a light pole. The picture of a frightened cat. Clung to the metal, coppery scented at the contact of his sweaty palms. The worn rubber soles of his running shoes slipped as he scanned his surroundings. He swallowed thickly, absently adjusting his grip, looking for the source of the ache in his gut.
Had he overreacted again. The street was relatively clear aside from a few people tossing him odd looks. Kyle could tell this feeling of detached vitriol did not belong to them. It was a strong feeling. Near overwhelming. Despite wishing to rid himself of the feeling, he focused on it for a moment. Just to try and decipher it. But as always it was just a feeling. An urge to get away. Something or someone had to be nearby with a nasty attitude. Hopefully just that. It pained him to think about picking up and leaving this place so soon. It had only been a week. The position at Saucy's started in less than thirty-hours.
The ache worsened as the teen slid back to the ground, careful to observe where exactly his toes touched down. Sighing so deeply he saw stars for a moment. The twitchiness began rapidly, fingers clenching and unclenching at his side, near jogging in place.
This is not good.
Not good indeed. God he was going to be sick. He knew that smoked salmon bagel smelled fishy this morning. The feeling wormed its way up his spine, gripping the sane part of his brain and tossing it to the wayside. Ears locked on to the distant sound of a bang. It couldn’t be more than a few blocks down, by the coffee shop on third. Fire ripped through his gut like never before, panic holding him hostage for as long as it could manage before he was running.
Bolting down the uneven sidewalk, easily hopping a bike rack and dodging the people up early, heading to their mundane morning meetings. It always awed Kyle how little they could tell was happening around him. And right now they had no clue he was running straight into the clutches of hell itself. But he knew. Kyle could tell this was the worst idea he ever had.
It proved right. Rounding the corner to the alleyway behind a quaint little unassuming coffee shop, near bumping into an older man. The scent of espresso could not save him from the distinct smell of blood. Unable to stand still. Quickly cataloging the people before him.
Good.
Good.
Passed out?
Dead.
Neutral.
Bad.
Scratch that. Really bad. Cute but clearly very not good.
“You shouldn’t be here old man!” Kyle shouts announcing his presence at the stout dude near the entrance of the alleyway. “It’s dangerous!”
With little thought, Kyle is darting in between the onlookers. Sliding to his knees beside a young girl. He almost retches at the viceral feeling of horror that overwhelms him upon touching her. He hauls her up as if it is nothing, sprinting back towards the opening of the alley. Wind whipping against his back. The feeling of teeth at his throat urging him. Not allowing him to falter.
What the fuck am I doing? I should leave. Leave. Leave. The negative energy coming off the girl across his shoulders tightened the muscles there, filling him with stress.
A few sharp corners and loud apologies aimed at businessmen later, Kyle sees it. His knight in shining armor! Cocopuff, the 2001 Toyota Corolla in all its aged glory.
“Holy shit!” Kyle’s leaping haphazardly over a railing, hitting the ground hard on the other side. Near crumpling at the impact and the added weight tossed over his shoulders. And all he can do is stagger them into the side of his car, nearly throwing the woman's body across the hood. Luckily the alarm died out long ago. The door squeaked open and he managed a sheepish wave to a woman and her puppy across the sidewalk watching in horror as he unceremoniously threw the unconscious woman in his passenger seat. Leaping over the top of the car to hop into the driver's seat quicker.
“Seatbelts for safety.” Kyle said to the woman. Jamming the key into the ignition and then– Cocopuff stutters, rumbles. Doesn’t turn over.
“No. No, come on. Not now! I just kidnapped a woman!” A feeling of dread is creeping up his spine yet again. Calling to him. Asking where he will go now. How he will escape.
The vivid image of a gun in the hands of that not quite human looking woman strikes him with nausea. He’s trying again. Attempting to do anything. To rectify the situation he had gotten himself into. Kyle couldn’t leave her. Could tell the others were defending her. He should have stopped to think, but God was he bad at that.
A pang struck the lad and he practically tossed himself up a light pole. The picture of a frightened cat. Clung to the metal, coppery scented at the contact of his sweaty palms. The worn rubber soles of his running shoes slipped as he scanned his surroundings. He swallowed thickly, absently adjusting his grip, looking for the source of the ache in his gut.
Had he overreacted again. The street was relatively clear aside from a few people tossing him odd looks. Kyle could tell this feeling of detached vitriol did not belong to them. It was a strong feeling. Near overwhelming. Despite wishing to rid himself of the feeling, he focused on it for a moment. Just to try and decipher it. But as always it was just a feeling. An urge to get away. Something or someone had to be nearby with a nasty attitude. Hopefully just that. It pained him to think about picking up and leaving this place so soon. It had only been a week. The position at Saucy's started in less than thirty-hours.
The ache worsened as the teen slid back to the ground, careful to observe where exactly his toes touched down. Sighing so deeply he saw stars for a moment. The twitchiness began rapidly, fingers clenching and unclenching at his side, near jogging in place.
This is not good.
Not good indeed. God he was going to be sick. He knew that smoked salmon bagel smelled fishy this morning. The feeling wormed its way up his spine, gripping the sane part of his brain and tossing it to the wayside. Ears locked on to the distant sound of a bang. It couldn’t be more than a few blocks down, by the coffee shop on third. Fire ripped through his gut like never before, panic holding him hostage for as long as it could manage before he was running.
Bolting down the uneven sidewalk, easily hopping a bike rack and dodging the people up early, heading to their mundane morning meetings. It always awed Kyle how little they could tell was happening around him. And right now they had no clue he was running straight into the clutches of hell itself. But he knew. Kyle could tell this was the worst idea he ever had.
It proved right. Rounding the corner to the alleyway behind a quaint little unassuming coffee shop, near bumping into an older man. The scent of espresso could not save him from the distinct smell of blood. Unable to stand still. Quickly cataloging the people before him.
Good.
Good.
Passed out?
Dead.
Neutral.
Bad.
Scratch that. Really bad. Cute but clearly very not good.
“You shouldn’t be here old man!” Kyle shouts announcing his presence at the stout dude near the entrance of the alleyway. “It’s dangerous!”
With little thought, Kyle is darting in between the onlookers. Sliding to his knees beside a young girl. He almost retches at the viceral feeling of horror that overwhelms him upon touching her. He hauls her up as if it is nothing, sprinting back towards the opening of the alley. Wind whipping against his back. The feeling of teeth at his throat urging him. Not allowing him to falter.
What the fuck am I doing? I should leave. Leave. Leave. The negative energy coming off the girl across his shoulders tightened the muscles there, filling him with stress.
A few sharp corners and loud apologies aimed at businessmen later, Kyle sees it. His knight in shining armor! Cocopuff, the 2001 Toyota Corolla in all its aged glory.
“Holy shit!” Kyle’s leaping haphazardly over a railing, hitting the ground hard on the other side. Near crumpling at the impact and the added weight tossed over his shoulders. And all he can do is stagger them into the side of his car, nearly throwing the woman's body across the hood. Luckily the alarm died out long ago. The door squeaked open and he managed a sheepish wave to a woman and her puppy across the sidewalk watching in horror as he unceremoniously threw the unconscious woman in his passenger seat. Leaping over the top of the car to hop into the driver's seat quicker.
“Seatbelts for safety.” Kyle said to the woman. Jamming the key into the ignition and then– Cocopuff stutters, rumbles. Doesn’t turn over.
“No. No, come on. Not now! I just kidnapped a woman!” A feeling of dread is creeping up his spine yet again. Calling to him. Asking where he will go now. How he will escape.
The vivid image of a gun in the hands of that not quite human looking woman strikes him with nausea. He’s trying again. Attempting to do anything. To rectify the situation he had gotten himself into. Kyle couldn’t leave her. Could tell the others were defending her. He should have stopped to think, but God was he bad at that.
