Chapter 1_Burnt Haven Den

His numb fingers that were on the paper were supposed to be scribbling and sketching images that never ceased to flash across his head but this time, he found himself staring at the blank paper, his sketching pencil in his hand and his mind traveling across the horizon of bleakness in his mind into the last argument with his brother.

Zakariah, his big brother, the only family he had left in this world, or maybe the only family he knew of was unsatisfied with his dream of being a successful artist.

He would not even help invest in his art training even though he was financially stable enough to do so. He does not necessarily need the training, he was already good enough but then, he felt he needed the exposure because his dream was a big one.

They were not of the upper class but they were living fairly well enough.

So, he was taking in multiple part-time jobs to save enough for his coaching class.

Zakariah would rather him work with the ink corporation, the company he works with. They produce face powders which are the biggest in the whole country. Funny how the other cosmetics companies produce all kinds of cosmetics products but ink corporation focuses only on face powders.

Rumors had always circulated that the corporation was initiating their buyers who use the products into some kind of satanic occultic society.

But then, that was a lame theory. Do things like that even exist? Initiating people through face powders?

He knew Orange City, the name of his town was popular and the best there is in the state for circulating rumors, either false or true.

The City was the most famous one there is in the country. They have all the interesting things going on, the best party spots, best bars, and clubs, restaurants, chill places and the likes. Not to mention it was the base for the ink corporation.

Whenever Zakariah told him to give up his artistic dream pursuit and come to work for ink, he always wished he could toss a paper flat on Zakariah's face with a writing " It is you who works for a demonic corporation"

However, doing that meant goodbye to his daily meals and shelter. Zakariah notwithstanding the blood tie between them would not have him anymore if he found out he was among the ones who call Ink a demonic corporation.

He clenched his fist and rested it under his chin, his breath rising. The company must have brainwashed his brother, this was not the Zakariah he knew.

He returned his gaze which was now staring into oblivion back to the white sheet and started scribbling ' Fuck Ink' in the most ugliest way he could think of.

He was scraping the writing so hard, the pen cursing through the paper and making holes in it without his knowledge. His mind was in a scary haze and the only justice he could do was take out all his aggression on the poor white sheet in front of him.

That was the highest he could do, hurt a little piece of paper. He was a loser who had even earned himself a nickname, 'LSR with good looks' most people call him LSR now abandoning the good looks and it irks him but there was nothing he could do about it.

LSR stands for loser, he was a loser and he does not blame those who called him that, A loser with good looks.

His unemployed status and inability to do well at anything except for drawing made him come to terms with the alias. However, his good looks were what made him a little bit more tolerant. But when it started attracting older women who would wink at him and make seducing gestures whenever he passed by and even some of them goes as far as offering to help with his bills if he cooperated, he cursed his attractive face still.

Maybe his meek fashion sense scares the girls? He would work on that though, Duncan was already tutoring him into being a fashion lord.

But should he listen to Duncan?! A fatso who was the only friend he had who was also a loser like him.

Arrghh...!

If only he could pay his coaching fees faster and get himself a nice cozy cabin downtown, he'd feel like the most fulfilled person in the world!

All this while, he was still scribbling the 'Fuck Ink', and not until his pencil broke, making a crackling sound did he look down at the wretched paper which was already stained with all kinds of things black shades he had scribbled with his pencil.

" Fuck this too!" he groaned as he shifted the chair he was sitting on and finally stood up to get himself a cold drink.

He opened the door of his room and went straight into the kitchen. The house was quiet now, Zakariah was back at work and they were living in the rare part of Orange City, the silent neighborhood which was barely hard to find in their loud City.

Something cold under his palm made him stare down at it to find he had his hand on the refrigerator handle, his thoughts wandered again. He does that at work too and Miss Piggy would never stop to rat his ear out about how much of a lady quality he possessed. The old woman would even tell him to go settle down with a rich lady and quit working. If only she knew she needed it more, settling down with a man. She was already old enough to be someone's granny.

Oh, that pink head woman! with stretch marks all over her obese body which she seemed not to care about

Just one more month and he was done working with her!

He inhaled heavily and through his mouth instead of his nose, he was too stressed to do things correctly. He took a bottle of canned soda and went back into his room when he thought he heard a faint noise coming from outside. He was not the type to pry, that was Duncan but he needed a distraction. His head was starting to weep again, weeping from the numerous thoughts in his head.

As he walked closer to the window, " Maybe Zakariah is back soon?" He asked himself and then, he parted the curtains and slid the laminated glass to the left. Then, he bent a little to balance with the level of the window frame and what he saw immediately made him jolt back in shock, his head hitting the window frame.

A shadow inside the burnt heaven den?!

Did someone walk into the house just a few yards away from theirs?!

The haunted and creepy one that has been abandoned for centuries now, or so he heard.

His hand was rubbing his throbbing head now, the pain from the impact of his skull on the window was painful but he ignored it as he set aside his soda on the table and bent down a bit more to watch whatever was going on in the burnt haven through its opened window which was the only opened part of the large five storeyed building.

The shadow moved about a bit more until it moved away from the window and he could see it no more. His curiosity grew as he wondered if truly those rumors were not rumors and were actual truth. Was burnt truly haunted?

Maybe if he discovered this, he would not be seen as a loser anymore.

Maybe this was the universe compensating him from being so harsh on him.

He needed to take this on camera!

He jogged to his room and picked up his cellphone which was lying on the mattress. He dashed to the door and ran from their unfenced building to the fenced house opposite them and stood in front of the old metallic gate which was getting rustier with the passage of time.

How was he going to get in the old building? The gate still had its chains and lock on it which affirmed his theory that there must be something supernatural in there and again, the inferno of curiosity in him rose to its highest peak. He was determined to get in the house as he jolted back inside to get a saw. He was going to open the gate, if it meant sawing off the chains, he would do it.

He opened the door of their crib and ran to the storage to pick a saw, he was going to pick the biggest there.

When he got to the storage, he remembered the key was always in Zakariah's closet. " Fuck this again!" He cursed, cursing was his favorite anthem.

Nothing seemed to work his way in life so, all he could do was curse at every single stone life throws at him.

He rushed to Zakariah's bedroom and hissed at the white painted walls. His brother liked to keep his things in place and would strangle him if he found out he touched his closet. But right now, he could care less about Zakariah's fuming as he opened the closet and ransacked it for the storage key.

"Yes!" He exclaimed with fulfillment as his palm landed on the key after a few seconds of fumbling with the closet.

He ran back outside not bothering to lock the closet door or Zakariah's bedroom door and even their house door. Even though the burnt haven was merely a few steps away, he still ran as if he was going to the city to get groceries.

When he got to the gate, he started sawing the chains with utmost concentration and vigor that he never heard the horning of the lift truck that was surfing its way in his direction until

" LSR..!" He heard Zakariah shout his alias which he had never called him before.

The surprise of hearing Zakariah's voice call him LSR when his brother had never done that before made him look in the direction the voice was coming from only to meet the truck hitting him so hard that he thumped on the floor with his body shaking and convulsing while blood oozed out of his head.

"Meow…" he heard the loud meowing of a cat and during his convulsing state, he turned his eyes over even though his head remained stiff to see a furry white cat crept out of the burnt haven.

A cat?

Was what he saw a cat?

But he could swear the figure in the house was that of a person, not a cat's