The East wind

A lone moon, a symbol of Diana, sat alone in a grim and benevolent sky of blackness. The stars seemed to have given up hope and only their dying shine, a memory from an already dissipated celestial corpse, kissed the heavens.

A city, shrouded in ruin, held testament to a forgotten memory of a world long gone. Broken rubble, pieces of metal, car parts and stone was the garden that appeared on many street corners.

The air was quiet, pure and silent... no, not pure good silence. This was the quiet in a coffin placed in the ground, the still silence only a corpse could give. It stung the ears, like a cold nail being jammed into the skull.

It was too unnatural. Too wrong.

Breathing would be a hazard to the nose. There was a constant stench that rose from the stones, the wind and the soil. It was light like a feather's touch in a memory. It would not make you gag, but slightly scrunch your nose.

It was the smell of dried blood and body fluids, splashed onto the ground and left uncleaned. Guts had been dropped onto the asphalt, ripped from its host and used to paint the streets before being swallowed by the perpetrator.

These perpetrators were there now.

Shadowy silhouettes moved across the streets of the abandoned city. Their bodies twitched,crumbled,stank and crackled like a log broken by fire. Their eyes were dead, their heart still and their visage a sight only suited for the undertaker.

Their jaws, atleast for those that could work, emmited moans, groans and sounds of pain. It was like legions of people all suffering from a horrible workout routine.

This city was a lost memory and the silhouettes were the undead.

They wandered the streets looking for food. Their hunger, surreal and unquenchable.

And it was on one particular street that a shadow moved.

A shadowy figure that detached from a street corner, after waiting for nearly ten minutes for a group of zombies to move away.

As soon as they turned the corner, the shadow moved, dashing like a rat with a cat breathing on its neck.

For a moment as it passed the street, the moon touched it with her hand and it was shown to be a human silhouette wearing a dirty hooded jacket.

The silhouette - it was a man.

He ran across the street, entering an alley and there!

The building on his left had a side door, with a bolt.

It took less than ten seconds before the man shut the door and put on the bolt.

"Hah." He breathed out a sigh of relief.

Moving next to the wall, he glanced around the place he was in. A high ceiling with wooden beams, peachy white walls and cracked tiled floor. Boxes, emptied out years ago, were strewn across the room.

It was a storage room.

Or it had been, but now it was the man's home.

He went to the right wall, flicked a switch and a flashlight shined a halo light unto the place.

One could see some broken boxes and wooden crates that had been made into furniture. A chair that was just an upside down crate, a pile of boxes that was a bed in one corner and a few left over boxes made to contain clothes and food.

The man moved forward and sat down on his chair, it was a wooden crate so it held his weight.

He reached into his right jacket pocket, pulling out a chicken bone. It was a drumstick, with a dry exterior and an unappetizing smell.

It had taken him nearly two days without food to find it.

He put the thing in his mouth, ready to crunch it to pieces... No, desperate enough to feast on it.

He was just that hungry.

"Stop. Don't eat it. "

He stopped before his teeth could crack the chicken bone.

"Save it. Food is getting hard to find."

"But... food...so long without food." He said in the silent room.

"If you eat it now. You'll die and then... you won't love."

His jaw slackened and the bone fell from his open mouth. Before it hit the ground, his hand reached out and snatched it.

He looked at it, twisting the bone in his hand.

He'd almost made a mistake. A grave mistake.

"Save it. We'll need it."

"I'm sorry. I won't eat tomorrow. My punishment must be true, right?" he said and he took his hoodie off.

Green eyes gazed into the shadowy storeroom and his mouth moved.

"Yes. A good choice." He said with a smirk.

"Good choice, absolutely."

...

" I cast a seduction vortex and draw in two of your concubines!" Verandah shouted with a smile.

" Nice try but I have," Lesley pulled out a card and placed it on the table," a Fortification fairy. "

Veranda gasped and Lesley smiled with triumph.

He'd won. It took thirty six games but finally he was good enough to beat this little monster.

But unfortunately, he didn't win.

Veranda's face changed into a devilish grin and Lesley knew he'd lost.

His eyes shut as she slammed another card onto the table.

"Nudist nymph, Ocleavus. A goddess beats a fairy any day." She said and Lesley groaned before tossing his cards on the table.

"Another round?" She asked and Lesley gave her a look, "no...?"

"Abso-lute-ly not. " He said, "Losing to a kid is bad enough. Being constantly bombarded by sexual junk is starting to wear my mind thin... well, thinner, I guess."

"You sure you don't want to sleep? It's almost sunrise and you-"

"If you're feeling sleepy, it's fine. I can keep myself occupied. " Lesley said shutting his eyes and taking a deep breath.

"No! I'm fine! I can last longer. "

Lesley cringed,"That sounds dirty and now I'm sure. You to sleep. Now."

"You're gibberishing. You need to sleep more than me." She said folding her arms.

"Gibberishing is not a word. Now go to sleep. " He said getting up and pointing to the bed.

"Fine. But I'm want Mel to watch over you." She said whilst gibberishing,"Maybe some guards too."

"Whatever. I'm going. Night." Lesley said walking out of the door and shutting it behind him.

As soon as the door closed, Lesley fell to his knees and his hand covered his face.

"Hhhgnn!" He groaned and his eyes began to burn.

A feeling of desperation assaulted him and tried to take his mind. He gritted his teeth and pushed against it, shoving it down like a cracking geyser.

His hair waved in the air and his eyes glowed jade green.

After a moment, he calmed down and he panted a bit as if tired.

"Are you alright?" Mel said walking up to him.

"Shut up." Lesley said as he got up and walked away, but only after saying; "If you follow me, I'll kill you a second time."

Mel stood in the lone corridor, gazing at Lesley's retreating back with an unfathomable dead gaze.

A cold, eastern wind blew through the warehouse and swayed their hair.

Like a warning or a secret message, it carresed their ears but they did not notice.

If only they had, maybe then...