A Monster of Ink

Footsteps in the desolate darkness, tapping against the cobblestone path towards the only light that could be grasped. Like a moth drawn to the pinpricks of lamp light floating up from an area of lower elevation, the glimpse of life that I had seen from that window, is what I followed. 

I made haste, my mind numb as I fell into a half sprint, wobbly, uneven, clutching my arm as the pain spread upwards, no distractions left to keep it at bay. I couldn't know what followed after me, a security guard, that eerie man, a gold eyed monster, a ghost of a man covered in red. Or a killer. Or nothing at all. I didn't know, so I ran. Away from the inn, away from that room, that crime scene, and into the darkness of the unknown, unfurling before me like the mist that danced across the cold air.

I glanced back at the inn, which seemed to grow in size the farther I ran, revealing level after level of dimmed windows, at a grand total of six, it loomed from atop its hilltop, fog drifting away like curtains to a stage lit by the faintest of moonlight. Under that stage, only one window was lit, and I had no intention of finding out who, or why. 

Choking down my ragged breaths, and willing the crow to not make another sound as it fluttered to perch on a fence beside me, I felt my way down a precarious set of stairs, seemingly not built to be a entrance to a grand inn, nor to last. The metal steps creaked as it took an almost cliff-like incline, and I clung to the railing, my only guide being the scarce moonlight that illuminated my path, my destination being the lights below, like fireflies that danced just out of reach.

If I were to reach for it, what would that prove? My innocence? What kind of magical fireflies did I think they were? 

You've dug too deep into a metaphor that isn't even there. 

You bloody idiot. 

I stumbled, tripping on the final step, my pace slowing to a brisk walk as the crow cawed, startling me out of a haze I hadn't noticed I was in. 

"Ah...the crow..."

My grip tightened on the last of the railing, and my eyes flicked back, tracing the dented claw mark that snaked the metal. Then I chose to look away, keeping my eyes straight ahead as I made my way to my first source of light, a lantern, hung by the wood plated wall of a shed.

What it's flicker illuminated was a narrow alleyway, of clustered pipelines that jutted out of the walls, of buildings worn with either age or storm brought water damage. Of cobblestone pathways, cracked and upturned, the distinct sound of dripping water echoing, notifying me of a plumbing problem that this town likely had plenty of. 

A choked laugh left my throat, like the croak of a dying frog, although frogs were surely more dignified then I was. I leaned against the wooden wall, my back pressing against the coarse grooves as I tilted my head back. The itchy sensation that ran through my face, a prophecy of rains to come, and the stinging pain near my heart. For a moment, I closed my eyes, numb to it all, numb like the arm that I clutched still. 

I...really wish this was a dream. A messed up dream that said more about my over consumption of mystery novels and thrillers....then whatever this is.

What is this...? 

The cold of raindrops fell against my closed lids, and the grip on my wounded arm tightened, sharp nails digging into the bloodied coat. 

"What am I...a monster?"

"And him. What is he?"

Monsters. And death. Fitting, but revolting. 

Opening my eyes, a blink later, a crow stared back at me, meeting my gaze head on, beady eyes unblinking. The crow flapped its wings, causing a start, a startle that shook my senses back as rain began to patter, soft, but insistent, as if urging me to move, to continue on. 

I averted my gaze, tearing it away from the crow as I glanced to the end of the alleyway, the start of a wider cobblestone path, that snaked away into the shroud of mist and drizzling rain.

I...need to find a bus top. A train station. Anything to get out. To get back to the dorm. I just need to get back, before figuring anything out. It's fine. It's all fine. 

I'm fine. 

Taking in a sharp breath, my I let go of my injured arm, and I straightened, breaking away from the shed wall as I trudged onwards, the crow fluttering off into the darkness overhead. A single feather landed on a puddle, drifting serenely before it was sunk like a old ship, crushed under the weight of my sole. 

***

The rain continued, my pace quickened, and my surroundings seemed to shift, a town filled with the scarce gleam of light from faraway windows, and not much else.

Buildings lined the path, from wooden walls, to brick, rusted gates, scattered crates. On the hillside clutter of houses and shops, the silhouette of what resembled a shrine, overlooking the murky area from its slight vantage point. Nothing much else was discernable, the outline of the moon vanishing in a dark raincloud, which dropped its contents like an open faucet. 

"Damn it" 

My pace slowed, the rooftops overhead did little to protect, rusty pipes leaking a consistent stream, that pattered against my hunched form. Snow white strands clung to my face, the excess dripping down to my nose, prompting a sneeze. 

I grit my teeth, the noise making my skin crawl as a new wave of paranoia hit.

I couldn't be caught. Not now. Not like this.

The chances of me being a murderer, without personal bias, was above fifty percent. I don't have the memories, but I have the murder weapon. In a locked room case, I was the only other person present. I myself was injured, meaning there was a struggle, the victim must have fought back...but...isn't this a bullet wound? A bullet must have grazed my arm...then what? Where did it land? 

Was I framed...? That guy could have been involved. Locked room case in reality don't occur...unless orchestrated...but, I have no memory of how I got there...does that mean I have no alibi...?

I gripped my arm, my gaze flicking down to survey the damage for the first time, having refused to look the entire time I wandered, my eyes glued forward, and nowhere else. 

My coat sleeve was torn, stained with a mixture of fresh and dried blood, it's previous color indiscernible in the darkness. Shuffling up to a nearby lamplight, I hesitantly peeled it back, the coat sticking to my skin, a type of tacky sensation that sent shivers up my spine.

My black clawed fingers, that same inky monstrosity, was not what caught my attention. Beneath the layer of beige overcoat, was a mess of festering flesh, a scar that seemed to wriggle, stitching itself back together in front of my eyes. 

I recoiled, a gag leaving my throat as I stumbled back, my back colliding with a streetlight, a store sign toppling over in the process. The crow cawed in surprise from it's place overhead, perched on a nearby fence.

An image of a similarly mangled wound flashed through my mind, as whatever little that was left in my stomach emptied itself onto the cobblestone. The bullet hole through the head of white, a pool of blood, and the stench, it was only accentuated by my own vomit. 

My breaths quickened, my free hand clinging to the streetlamp, my claws digging into the rusted iron, the crow continuing its cawing, like an unwelcome audience member to a unwanted show.

"Shut. Up." I snapped, my voice coming out in a growl that echoed within the alley, snapping me back to my senses out of nothing but guilty fear. 

The crow went quiet, tilting it's head, and I let out a sigh, slumping against the streetlamp, my trembling form huddling into a corner, where the roof overhead offered some shelter, but not enough.

"I should...cover this...but it could get infected...I don't have any way to stitch it, no pain killers, saline, gauze...or sewing needle... " I muttered, rambling on to myself as I tried to rationalize the situation, staring at my arm, where the crusted blood melted away with the pelting rains. I stood there silently for a moment before lifting it out into the rain, wincing as water slid through the writhing scar and down into my shirt.

I held it there, until any sign of red had all but washed away. Then I glanced down at my white collared shirt, which was tucked into my trousers, in that tacky way I was always nagged me to fix my uniform into, back then. 

I pulled it free, then ripped a strip off of it, wrapping it around my injury, covering it up as best I could. Having claws did not make it easy, but at this moment, I refused to acknowledge them. 

"...There" I huffed, tying the cloth off, my arm stinging as I moved it, although less then it should have.

It's healing...unnaturally fast...its...revolting. 

I grit my teeth and glanced away, my gaze fixed on the cobblestone as I leaned back into roof shelter, my hands went to my coat pockets. As odd as suddenly owning a trench coat was, I couldn't help the habit. 

My fingers grazed the revolver, the slick texture causing me to flinch, but I forced my hand to still, to pull it out, and examine it. The rain pattering down onto the sleek metal, tracing its form then cascading down my clawed hand. 

Prominent veins, black masses that were indistinguishable from claws or fingers, scale-like tendrils that met the tan skin of my wrist. I would have said it was receding, that it was closer to normal than it was a half hour ago, but that would be wishful thinking. A simple delusion. 

I flipped the revolver in my hands, the rain droplets flicking off as the lamplight highlighted the dirtied surface. My gaze surveyed its aged but pristine state, a six shot type, the handle made of wood, with the design of a brass rose engraved on the side. Three chambers were empty, another had a broken bullet, and the last two...

Usable. Although I didn't want to test the validity of that statement.

"Eclipse..." I read out, tracing a finger over the silver kanji, engraved next to the rose. "Must be a brand name." 

"..." I turned it in my hand, watching the warm light flicker off of the metal.

What if I left this here...? Just throw it in a puddle. Leave it to rust. They won't know. I'll be rid of it. 

I glanced down at a puddle, seeping through the cobblestones and into a pile of wooden crates. This was narrow street, and anything beside those crates would be relatively out of sight. 

Before I could do much else, the crow cawed, its voice shrill, echoing. My gaze snapped to its almost invisible form, blending with the darkness from where it seemed to laugh at me. 

I would have hurled a curse at it, but the sound of a window clacking open above me stopped me in my tracks. 

"Those cursed birds..!" An voice grumbled, audible even though the pelting rain. "Always cawing at midnight..! Scoundrels....the darn sign got knocked...." The voice trailed off, and I froze, listening as footsteps retreated from the window, and into a building, the sound of curtains closing following shortly after. 

Just as I let out the breath I was holding, a door opened beside me. 

"Oi"

I tensed, the revolver almost slipping out of my rain soaked hands. I scrambled to hide it within the trench coat, my claws digging into the damp fabric, cold sweat trickling down my neck as my gaze remained on the puddle, refusing to move. 

"I said Oi." The woman repeated, harsher this time. "The place doesn't open until six in the mornin. Doesn't look like its six yet, does it?" 

"Ah...ye- no ma'am..." I stuttered out before clearing my throat. I hid my hands further in my pockets as I looked over at the woman with the noticeable dialect. She seemed to be in her thirties, but you would think older, wearing a yukata and a full head of white hair. Of course, I wasn't stupid to not know that my own hair seemed brazenly white, but I had no intention of acknowledging that.

"Then scram kid. Can't ya read the sign?" Her footsteps tapped against the cobblestone, followed by the clang of a fence, being kicked shut. "Its late, and a storm no less. Now a lad like you's out galivanting about. Ridiculous!" She huffed, nudging me aside as she picked up the sign and sat it straight again.

Noticing the small but visible puddle of vomit, she scoffed, like it was a just a hindrance, a daily occurrence, even. 

"Uh...I apologize, for um...that." I shifted by feet, the paranoia trumping my embarrassment, my skin crawling at the notion of standing still, here, in the open, an easy target.  

She clicked her tongue, grabbing a fist full of sand from a flowerbed and chucking it over the vomit.

"Ya don't look drunk, so I'll give it a pass. The rain will wash it away in no time." 

"Haha...thank you?" I tilted my head, distracted by what was illuminated by the light of her lantern. It was the sign I knocked over, the words now visible. It read, 'Horse Cloud pub'. 

"....Horse Cloud...?" I couldn't help but be a bit taken aback, the kanji characters on the sign reading to be something nonsensical.

"Noon Cloud." She scowled, correcting me. "Tsk. Foreigners..." 

"Ah...Sorry ma'am..." I muttered, standing, ducking my head as rain continued to trickle onto me. "I'll...be on my way" 

"Yeah yeah. Don't make it a habit to be out in storms would ya?" 

I gave a quick bow, heading back into the rain, and the darkness beyond. 

"You don't want to catch your death" She called after me, and I flinched, increasing my pace as the crow cawed, decidedly having regained its courage, or lost its sympathy for me.

"Was that a threat..?" I muttered, glaring at the crow, who had gotten me in this situation. It sat on the same fence, preening itself with an almost smug look in its eyes. 

Either way, I don't plan to stick around here. 

As ridiculous as it was, every person I met felt like a threat. Like an clown running around in a cage full of killers, all I could muster up was a laugh.