The sun rose slowly over the distant horizon, and as the frail beams grew stronger and brighter, the cool chill of the night gave way to the fresh coolness of morning. I sighed as I watched the sun rise, giving up entirely on the possibility of sleep.
I stretched out my stiff and aching legs before bracing myself against the rough bark of the tree behind me and rising to my feet. My cold, tense muscles shrieked in protest, and I pulled my jacket closer as I opened the garden latch and stepped out onto the street, making sure the gate closed quietly behind me. I walked away aimlessly, not even bothering to check for wary observers who may notice a stranger leaving their neighbor’s garden. It would be several hours before anyone would awaken.
The sun continued to rise as I ambled on. Soon, people would wake up, fix their breakfasts, and be off to work. As I noticed lights turning down in the houses around me, my hands flew to my hair. Several strands had fallen out of my hat. I tore my hat off, ignoring my hair as it tumbled down my back. I pulled it back up, bobby-pinning the loose strands in place before replacing my hat. Now, I looked like a typical pre-pubescent boy; baggy, concealing clothes, hair just long enough to give the impression of being slightly rebellious, and a sullen expression that discouraged people from talking to me.
As people began to trickle onto the street, I began to walk with more purpose. Head slightly down, eyes averted, I knew I drew no attention to myself. I had long ago mastered the art of remaining unnoticed. I cause no ripples in the great lake of life.
I tracked the sun’s progress across the sky as I walked street after street in London. My stomach was tight with hunger, and I thought longingly of the free breakfast buffets offered in the hotels I had passed a while back. Looking at the dirt under my fingernails and my worn clothing, I knew I wouldn’t have made it three feet into one of those grand hotels, much less into the dining room. Even so, I found myself wishing I had tried as the day wore on.
Finally, around noon, I stopped in front of a small restaurant. The owner’s wife had given me odd jobs before. I knew the work would be easy, and she always paid generously. I felt bad taking advantage of her open-handedness, but I needed the money, and this woman didn’t ask questions. Besides, it was human nature to exploit others, and I was no better than anyone else.
The kind-hearted lady was outside sweeping the cobblestone street in front of her husband’s restaurant when he saw me. Her face lit up in a grin and she wished me a good morning as she gave me the broom. She went inside as I started sweeping in her stead.
Snippets of conversation floated out of the restaurant and reached my ears as I continued my pleasantly mind-numbing task, but I found myself uninterested in listening. All the people here, with their constant laughter, flirtations, and idle chatter were just as superficial as the bright smiles and cheery voices employed by the employees.
There is a goal behind every action, every word spoken by these people. They carefully manipulate others to get what they what, whether it be love, friendship, business deals, or tips. Everyone does it, but few realize it. I pondered this, wondering if I was a better or worse person for realizing my ulterior motives, all the while gently sweeping away grit and dirt tracked by the public.
When I was done, her bit of sidewalk was the cleanest in all of London, and she gave me two £20 notes. This was much too much for the simple task I had performed. “I can’t accept this,” I said, handing the money back.”
“Of course you can,” she said with a motherly smile. “You earned every pence of it.” My throat tightened as I looked at this small, elderly lady, and tears threatened to pool over my eyes. After years of living a hardened life on the streets, the small kindness of a woman who knew nothing about me almost unhinged me. I promised myself I would repay her somehow, someday.
“I can’t ever thank you enough,” I said in a tremulous voice. She just smiled sadly and pulled me into a hug, and for an instant, I found myself melting into it, feeling the acceptance for which I had always longed. I opened my eyes and saw the restaurant owner, this lady’s husband, standing in the doorway, watching us. I stiffened as I felt a wave of terror pour over me.
“I-I need to go,” I managed to choke out before tearing myself out of her arms and running as far and fast as I could. I drew stares as I raced down the street, but I didn’t care. I put all my energy into getting myself as far away from the potential threat as possible.
My lungs burned as I drew in ragged breaths, my side cramped painfully, and my legs felt like jelly, but still I ran. I ran until I could run no more, and I collapsed onto a bench outside a supermarket, my physical pain nearly drowning out the torment in my head. My breathing started to calm, and my legs started to tremble. I felt stupid for overreacting to the restaurant owner’s appearance, but the look he gave me was terrifying. It was as though he could see through my disguise. My trembling increased, less from the run than from the terror welling inside me.
Once my heart had stopped pounding frantically, I started thinking more practically. I knew I would cramp and stiffen to the point of being unable to move if I didn’t get up, so I struggled to my feet and took a few shaky steps.
It began to rain, so I stepped into the supermarket and wandered around, walking off the cramp in my side, my legs becoming sturdier as I continued moving. Eventually, I unfurled my fist and looked at the two crumpled notes I held, then grabbed a basket and started piling food into it. After I paid, I still had a £20 note and a few shillings left, so I wandered around other stores in the district and purchased a small knapsack. By then it had stopped raining, so dumped the food I had purchased into the sack, slung it on my back, and went to search out a nice, deserted alley.
Approximately a mile away, I found the perfect one; dark, quiet, and private. It provided a fair amount of protection. The only way to enter it was from the street I was on, as the other side was closed off by a chain-link fence. I would be in trouble if anyone else entered the alley, but it was unlikely anyone would. It was not a very populated area, and there was a giant puddle at the entrance to dissuade visitors.
Feeling confident in my decision, I stepped through the puddle and into the alley and sat down, sighing in relief as I stretched out my legs. My hunger came back in full force, and I felt it keenly. I sifted through my knapsack, and grabbed a banana. Better to start off slowly after that run. I would hate to waste my precious resources of food by vomiting.
The banana looked unbelievably enticing, so I ripped the peel off and smashed half the fruit into my mouth. I knew I must have looked ridiculous, but I was so hungry I didn’t care. I took another huge bite, only to nearly choke in surprise when the deep sound of a man choking back laughter reverberated through the alley.
My head snapped up and I looked around frantically for the source of the sound, and I found a tall, pale man with eerily bright green eyes staring down at me with a sardonic smile. I scrambled to my feet, searching for a possible escape route. There wasn’t one. I would have to walk past the man in order to leave, and my chances of making it by him were slim.
Adrenaline flowing, I sized him up. If the option of flight was out, I could still fight. He looked strong and muscular, with a pierced ear and several scars. This was not going to end well for me.
Just as I was considering rushing towards him in the hopes that he’d be too surprised to stop me, he spoke. “Well, aren’t you going to offer me a banana? I’ve had a long day, and I missed lunch.” He looked closer at me. “Huh. This is unexpected. I thought you were going to be a girl. Your parents must have had a cruel streak to name their son Valerie.”
“That’s not my name,” I lied tensely, reaching down to pick up my knapsack of food. I tucked it safely under my arm and gave him a look that said, no, you can’t have my banana. Who was this man making strange demands and how did he know my name? Unconcerned by my icy tone or defiant stare, he just shrugged and pulled a small device out of his pocket. “It must be some kind of glitch. You’re definitely on here, though. What are you?”
What was this man talking about? He must have sensed my confusion, because he sighed and held out his device. “You’re not human. If you were, you wouldn’t show up on this program,” he said, pointing towards a blinking red dot on the screen. Next to it was a set of coordinates, and a name. My name.
I shrank away from him. He must be some kind of crazy serial killer, or at the very least completely crazy. He was probably on some serious drugs. None of these options rested easily with me, and I didn’t want to be anywhere near him or his creepy blinking device.
Shrugging off my silence, he continued, “My friend is trying to start a club, the members of which would be like you or me. She’s calling it the Mythological Creatures Club, and we’ve used this device to find them. So again, what are you?” This man was definitely crazy. “You’re definitely crazy,” I say, then immediately slap my hand over my mouth in an effort to retract my words. Irritation flashed in his eyes, and I knew I was going to die.
To my complete shock, he sat down. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he said, obviously frustrated. I couldn’t help but notice that he was still blocking the opening of the alley. “Your words mean less than nothing to me,” I hissed in response. Adrenaline pounded in my ears; it was now or never.
I sprinted towards the man, barely noticing his eyes widen. Just as it seemed as though I’d trample him in my efforts to get away, I swerved around him. “Wait!” he yelled as his hand caught my foot, and I hit the ground, hard. My breath whooshed out of me, and I kicked desperately at him. My foot made contact with him, and I heard a satisfying crunch and a grunt of pain. I scrambled to get away, but he pulled me back in the alley. His eyes flashed with anger and I must have broken his nose, because it was bent and gushing blood. He grabbed the loose fabric of my shirt and pulled me off the ground.
“When I started talking to you about ten minutes ago, I was a bit hungry,” he bared his teeth in frustration at me, and I could see his impossibly long, sharp canines. “Now,” he growled, tightening his grip on my shirt, “I am completely fed up!” He shoved me away and stalked out of the alley and out of my life, splashing through the puddle on his way. I found myself watching the ripples he had caused in the puddle, watching them spread violently and ultimately disappear.
Sounds of choppy breathing and broken sobs filled the alley, and it took several minutes for me to realize I was the source of the noise. With a groan I rolled over and curled up in a ball, too exhausted to move beyond that. The man was right about one thing; he wasn’t human. I couldn’t stop thinking about his sharp, shiny fangs. I don’t know why I was so surprised by this mark of a monster.
After all, I have met many monsters in my time. What difference does it make if this one bore the physical traits of one, as well as the psychological?
...
Sorry that I didn't have her officially join the club yet. I wanted to establish her rocky relationship with Sebastian nice and early. It's pretty safe to say at this point that she doesn't know she's a mythological creature.
