Darker than Midnight

This is fantasy...  Also horror.  I think I already posted part of this, but whatever.  Here's the rest.  It's a rather odd story, but I do quite enjoy the concept.  Yes, I do have a sinister mind.  Anyway, hope you like it.  And if you don't, I hope it at least scares you a little!

Darker than Midnight

This isn’t a bedtime story.

This is my story.

And I’m just not a good person.

Black water rippled against the wooden boat. It was decaying and old, the once crisp white paint no longer visible.

Raindrops began to splash down onto the lake, shattering the glassy mirrored surface.

The boat’s occupant was an elderly man, unaware of the falling rain. Slow and steady snores made his nostrils flare.

Like an illusion, a figure rose from the dark depths of the water. The figure, tall and strong, hovered over the man menacingly. As if he sensed the danger, the old man’s eyes flashed open to look up at the shadow.

“Who are you?” He whispered, fear and anger laced in his tone.

The shadow hissed with laughter. “You’re worst nightmare.” The shadow’s cloak incased the old man. There was a shriek of terrible pain, pain more intense than any other that the old man had ever experienced.

Then the shadow stepped back out of the boat and sunk back into the darkness, smiling maliciously. The next day, news reporters would swarm the old man’s house, interview his relatives, make stupid speculations. He had fallen asleep in the rain and drown. Lightning had struck him.

But the forensics would know. But they wouldn’t have a solution. So it would be accepted- he’d died in a horrible accident.

Everyone would just go on pretending that my father hadn’t killed that man. They would never know. No one every knows before we come. That’s why they never survive.

I am utterly and undeniably different.

Paige McCarthy was utterly and undeniably normal. She was an average high school freshman with straight auburn hair and plain brown eyes. She got average grades; she was averagely popular; she wasn’t not bad at sports, but not good either.

Her best friend, Monica Robins, was, if possible, even less interesting.

As the two girls laughed at chatted at their weekly Friday sleepover, neither noticed a dark hooded figure creeping by the house.

The window where the girls were sitting was clearly illuminated for the outside world to see. The hooded figure paused for a moment and stared at the Paige and Monica as they ate popcorn and gossiped.

He shook his head and continued upon his way.

The figure had just been thinking something- what if he was just normal? What if he was just an average human being like Paige McCarthy and Monica Robins?

But what the figure didn’t know was that there had been a third girl, who knows where she had been, perhaps getting more popcorn, or using the restroom, but she had not yet been seen by the wandering figure.

Each step the shadow took felt pointless. He was just whiling away the hours until dawn. The figure knew full well what he should be doing just now. But he refused to do it. He was different. Utterly and undeniably different.

The figure was me.

I wandered for a few more hours, strolling along the dark neighborhood meaninglessly.

Eventually, I found myself back in front of Paige McCarthy’s house. The lights had gone out.

I stood and stared at the window where the two girls were probably asleep. Squinting my eyes, I saw movement.

The window of Monica’s room was unlatched and slid open. The third girl that I had not seen before stuck her head out of the window and into the air. She rested her elbows on the wooden frame and looked around into the night.

I did my best to blend in with the darkness. Which wasn’t altogether too hard, considering what I am.

The girl had long black hair and emerald green eyes. She had a pale complexion, and her face didn’t have a single freckle or spot of acne; other than her eyes, she looked a good deal like me. But my eyes are blue. Like the daytime sky.

It is at this point that I must warn you- this book is a documentation of my world. I live in an incredibly dangerous world. It would be wise not to get tangled up in it. So if you are brave, read on.

I felt my body growing weak. It was getting to be dawn. I crouched low on the ground and muttered a few words in a long lost tongue.

The remaining darkness left by the breaking sun flooded in around me. I slowly sunk into the ground.

Only seconds later, I reappeared in the grim, underground forgotten city I call home.

“Hello, Blake. Any good kills tonight?”

“Of course,” I lied through my teeth. Well, my name is Blake after all. It means two things: light and dark.

I am light. I do not kill innocent humans like my people do.

I am dark. I am of a race of forgotten people who hunger for death.

I moved towards the tall chair and sat down upon it. It was my throne.

I am Blake. I am the Prince of Darkness. I am the Prince of Light.