ellie_kat89 (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
ellie_kat89) wrote2010-03-09 11:03 pm
ellie_kat89) wrote2010-03-09 11:03 pm
Entry tags:
"The Black Umbrella"
Title: The Black Umbrella
Rating: Teen
Genre Dark supernatural
The Black Umbrella
Over the years, college campus grounds had become good hunting, and Malum knew this better than anyone. Colleges were teaming with the fresh and the new, the forbidden and the sinful; and in the end careless students with too much on their minds made easy pickings.
He began his day as he usually did, overlooking the busiest parking lot in the school, so that every student that came for class the day would see him – would wonder. He stayed there that day for hours, garnering plenty of stares as cars came and went; he stared back too, focusing and analyzing, but no one caught his eye. Malum knew that he was being picky, probably too picky, after all he had to meet his quota, and if he didn’t, his master would be displeased.
Slowly the day turned cold and stormy and he moved eventually to the other side of the campus, wondering if he would have better luck. The rain-wet toothpick hung from his cold, chapped lips like a cigarette, and when he bit down into the wood it splintered in his mouth, breaking apart and sticking him painfully in his cheeks and tongue; but he didn’t seem to notice the pain as the metallic taste of blood bloomed across his tongue.
Malum was young even though his clothes appeared somewhat old fashioned for someone his physical age; he was dressed all in black down to his sneakers and to the bowler hat on his head, even his umbrella was black. His sun glasses were oversized for his thin, pinched face and completely out of place in the stormy weather and rain that pelted the pavement. Besides the umbrella he appeared unaffected by the heavy rain as he sat, watching students walk by to their cars, hunched over to avoid the rain.
No one had ever seen him before on campus but everyone noticed him for the five hours that he sat in the cold rain; the crazy kid in the funny clothes was more than noticeable against the turquoise colored bench.
He was just considering moving on (thinking about heading to Berkeley actually for a party or two, he could catch something of succulence there) when someone new caught his eye. It was a woman, plain enough really, her face glowing falsely innocent with a mop of curly brown hair. Her hair, whipped into further disarray by the wind as she stepped out of the neighboring building, caught his attention and he watched each individual strand fly around her heart shaped face. Her demeanor, head bowed against the wind, spoke of timidity but her mind was fascinating to him. There were deep, dark places there, hidden desires that he wouldn’t mind fleshing out – from the outside in. Really, she was like every other young thing he’d read that day, but her hair, with each lock out of place and quickly becoming weighted down by the rain, made him think of Medusa.
The woman walked passed him, barely paying him any notice until he rose to his feet and hurried over to her, not wanting to miss his chance. She turned, surprised by his sudden proximity as the rain suddenly stopped showering her head; she looked up and realized that his large black umbrella was now over her own head as well as his.
“It’s a bit fucking wet out here,” he greeted, internally gleeful at her wary expression, this one was more cautious than the others, their caution and fear always made the hunt more fun.
“Uh—yes it is. Thank you,” she glanced up again at the umbrella, as if still surprised to find it there, “but I’m just going to stand over there.” She pointed over to the overhang above the door of the history building.
He followed her to the overhang, but stayed just outside, the rain still pattering on his black hat. Her eyes wide at his odd appearance and demeanor, she moved purposefully as far away from him as she could, while still under the overhang’s protection – she didn’t want any reason to be under his umbrella.
“You’re going to get wet over there,” he stated, a frown crossing his face, the first emotion he had shown that day.
“I’ll deal with it, thanks though, a little rain never hurt anyone.” She pulled her heavy backpack higher up on her shoulder and leaned against the building. She felt obligated to flash him a smile; she didn’t want to be rude and he had been so nice, if not a little weird.
Disappointed, he walked back to his wet bench and sat back down, peaking over his shoulder at her as she waited for her ride. Pretty hair. Deciding that he wanted another vantage point of her he got up and began walking, his black trench coat billowing in the wind. The man walked around the building and disappeared from the girl’s sight. In the distance he heard her sigh of relief and he smirked – if only she knew.
Unbeknownst to her, he made a loop around the building and then up the other side. He peaked around the corner and praised his good fortune, she was still turned away a little and could not see him out of her peripheral vision. He gazed at her for a minute, desire to take her running through his veins. Wouldn’t his master be pleased with her? Malum knew it would be easy, where he would be taking her no one would ever find her, she would just be one of the young women, never to be found. He licked his lips and stepped forward a little; he stretched his arm out and his thin, bony fingers were just about to curl around her thick hair when the door next to the girl opened.
“You’re going to get wet standing there.” Both the girl and the man jumped at the words, so eerily similar to the ones that he had uttered earlier. Surprised, Malum met the eyes of his enemy. He let out a hiss of annoyance and backed away from the girl, realizing that she was under their protection. The man that held the door open for the girl to duck inside appeared to be a short, slightly heavy man with a Mexican accent, but the man dressed in black knew differently; they could take any form to match their surroundings and for some reason they were protecting the girl that he wanted. He watched angrily as she went inside to wait as the rain became even heavier.
Cursing his misfortune, the man in black stomped off, his hands curled into tight fists. He walked off of the campus entirely and then down into the muddy field next to the building, knowing that if he couldn’t have the girl than he wanted to confront the one that was protecting her. He waited only a few minutes before his enemy—Pius—walked out of the building and then towards him, sliding down into field like he had.
“I’m surprised to see you here Malum, I thought you were working in Argentina,” Pius began, all traces of his Hispanic accent gone.
“My orders changed,” Malum jeered, tugging on his black trench coat angrily as it flapped about in the wind. “I want the girl.”
Pius shook his head, water dripping from his medium length black hair. “And I have my orders, she’s ours. You’re not going to find anyone here, I would recommend telling Lucifer that he’s hunting in the wrong area.”
Malum growled in frustration, his once pale, pinched face turning animalistic, demonic. “No one tells my master what he doesn’t want to hear.”
“Well then, I guess he’ll just have to get the picture when you come back empty handed.”
With a sudden ripping sound Malum’s black trench coat was replaced with a pair of pitch black, feathered wings, emerging from his pale back like a dark butterfly from its cocoon.
“I’ll get the girl, Pius, and I would recommend that you watch your back. You have no right to watch over an entire area,” he whined, feet shuffling in the mud.
One of Pius’ friends appeared then, a short, plump woman with too much makeup and a bad hair coloring, looking down at them from the top of ditch. “We like the weather here… usually.” The women glanced up, addressing the dark clouds and the rain. “But it still beats the Artic any old day.”
Pius grinned mockingly. “Consider my back watched.”
With a huff and glare, Malum took off into the air in a blur, moving too fast for human eyes to see. Rolling his eyes Pius turned and watched as the girl’s friend pulled up to the building in a green economy car. Sarah, the girl he was protecting, walked out of the safety of the building and the car. They drove away and he watched them go before his white, popular brand name backpack was suddenly a pair of large, white wings. He took off into the air and followed them, keeping himself hidden.
In the car, the girl rummaged around in her backup, looking for the book she knew was there; all the while she chattered with her friend, complaining about her lackluster professor and the weather. Sarah glanced up as the car stopped at an intersection and started, doing a double take. Through the window and the pouring rain she could see an umbrella, a black, oversized, eerily familiar umbrella. In the rain, Sarah couldn’t see the face of the person holding the umbrella but she could make out who it was well enough by the black trench coat.
Sarah and her friend were the first car in the lane so when the man from before began walking across, she had a good view of him. The pale blur that was his face, distorted by the rain, turned towards them, and Sarah had the feeling that he was looking right at her. There was a flash of white in the pale blur and Sarah knew that he had grinned, or snarled. She shivered, the creepy-crawly feeling traveling up her spine like tickling fingers, and was infinitely glad when the light turned green and they were able to pull away.
Behind them, Malum watched and waited, until the next time.
Rating: Teen
Genre Dark supernatural
Over the years, college campus grounds had become good hunting, and Malum knew this better than anyone. Colleges were teaming with the fresh and the new, the forbidden and the sinful; and in the end careless students with too much on their minds made easy pickings.
He began his day as he usually did, overlooking the busiest parking lot in the school, so that every student that came for class the day would see him – would wonder. He stayed there that day for hours, garnering plenty of stares as cars came and went; he stared back too, focusing and analyzing, but no one caught his eye. Malum knew that he was being picky, probably too picky, after all he had to meet his quota, and if he didn’t, his master would be displeased.
Slowly the day turned cold and stormy and he moved eventually to the other side of the campus, wondering if he would have better luck. The rain-wet toothpick hung from his cold, chapped lips like a cigarette, and when he bit down into the wood it splintered in his mouth, breaking apart and sticking him painfully in his cheeks and tongue; but he didn’t seem to notice the pain as the metallic taste of blood bloomed across his tongue.
Malum was young even though his clothes appeared somewhat old fashioned for someone his physical age; he was dressed all in black down to his sneakers and to the bowler hat on his head, even his umbrella was black. His sun glasses were oversized for his thin, pinched face and completely out of place in the stormy weather and rain that pelted the pavement. Besides the umbrella he appeared unaffected by the heavy rain as he sat, watching students walk by to their cars, hunched over to avoid the rain.
No one had ever seen him before on campus but everyone noticed him for the five hours that he sat in the cold rain; the crazy kid in the funny clothes was more than noticeable against the turquoise colored bench.
He was just considering moving on (thinking about heading to Berkeley actually for a party or two, he could catch something of succulence there) when someone new caught his eye. It was a woman, plain enough really, her face glowing falsely innocent with a mop of curly brown hair. Her hair, whipped into further disarray by the wind as she stepped out of the neighboring building, caught his attention and he watched each individual strand fly around her heart shaped face. Her demeanor, head bowed against the wind, spoke of timidity but her mind was fascinating to him. There were deep, dark places there, hidden desires that he wouldn’t mind fleshing out – from the outside in. Really, she was like every other young thing he’d read that day, but her hair, with each lock out of place and quickly becoming weighted down by the rain, made him think of Medusa.
The woman walked passed him, barely paying him any notice until he rose to his feet and hurried over to her, not wanting to miss his chance. She turned, surprised by his sudden proximity as the rain suddenly stopped showering her head; she looked up and realized that his large black umbrella was now over her own head as well as his.
“It’s a bit fucking wet out here,” he greeted, internally gleeful at her wary expression, this one was more cautious than the others, their caution and fear always made the hunt more fun.
“Uh—yes it is. Thank you,” she glanced up again at the umbrella, as if still surprised to find it there, “but I’m just going to stand over there.” She pointed over to the overhang above the door of the history building.
He followed her to the overhang, but stayed just outside, the rain still pattering on his black hat. Her eyes wide at his odd appearance and demeanor, she moved purposefully as far away from him as she could, while still under the overhang’s protection – she didn’t want any reason to be under his umbrella.
“You’re going to get wet over there,” he stated, a frown crossing his face, the first emotion he had shown that day.
“I’ll deal with it, thanks though, a little rain never hurt anyone.” She pulled her heavy backpack higher up on her shoulder and leaned against the building. She felt obligated to flash him a smile; she didn’t want to be rude and he had been so nice, if not a little weird.
Disappointed, he walked back to his wet bench and sat back down, peaking over his shoulder at her as she waited for her ride. Pretty hair. Deciding that he wanted another vantage point of her he got up and began walking, his black trench coat billowing in the wind. The man walked around the building and disappeared from the girl’s sight. In the distance he heard her sigh of relief and he smirked – if only she knew.
Unbeknownst to her, he made a loop around the building and then up the other side. He peaked around the corner and praised his good fortune, she was still turned away a little and could not see him out of her peripheral vision. He gazed at her for a minute, desire to take her running through his veins. Wouldn’t his master be pleased with her? Malum knew it would be easy, where he would be taking her no one would ever find her, she would just be one of the young women, never to be found. He licked his lips and stepped forward a little; he stretched his arm out and his thin, bony fingers were just about to curl around her thick hair when the door next to the girl opened.
“You’re going to get wet standing there.” Both the girl and the man jumped at the words, so eerily similar to the ones that he had uttered earlier. Surprised, Malum met the eyes of his enemy. He let out a hiss of annoyance and backed away from the girl, realizing that she was under their protection. The man that held the door open for the girl to duck inside appeared to be a short, slightly heavy man with a Mexican accent, but the man dressed in black knew differently; they could take any form to match their surroundings and for some reason they were protecting the girl that he wanted. He watched angrily as she went inside to wait as the rain became even heavier.
Cursing his misfortune, the man in black stomped off, his hands curled into tight fists. He walked off of the campus entirely and then down into the muddy field next to the building, knowing that if he couldn’t have the girl than he wanted to confront the one that was protecting her. He waited only a few minutes before his enemy—Pius—walked out of the building and then towards him, sliding down into field like he had.
“I’m surprised to see you here Malum, I thought you were working in Argentina,” Pius began, all traces of his Hispanic accent gone.
“My orders changed,” Malum jeered, tugging on his black trench coat angrily as it flapped about in the wind. “I want the girl.”
Pius shook his head, water dripping from his medium length black hair. “And I have my orders, she’s ours. You’re not going to find anyone here, I would recommend telling Lucifer that he’s hunting in the wrong area.”
Malum growled in frustration, his once pale, pinched face turning animalistic, demonic. “No one tells my master what he doesn’t want to hear.”
“Well then, I guess he’ll just have to get the picture when you come back empty handed.”
With a sudden ripping sound Malum’s black trench coat was replaced with a pair of pitch black, feathered wings, emerging from his pale back like a dark butterfly from its cocoon.
“I’ll get the girl, Pius, and I would recommend that you watch your back. You have no right to watch over an entire area,” he whined, feet shuffling in the mud.
One of Pius’ friends appeared then, a short, plump woman with too much makeup and a bad hair coloring, looking down at them from the top of ditch. “We like the weather here… usually.” The women glanced up, addressing the dark clouds and the rain. “But it still beats the Artic any old day.”
Pius grinned mockingly. “Consider my back watched.”
With a huff and glare, Malum took off into the air in a blur, moving too fast for human eyes to see. Rolling his eyes Pius turned and watched as the girl’s friend pulled up to the building in a green economy car. Sarah, the girl he was protecting, walked out of the safety of the building and the car. They drove away and he watched them go before his white, popular brand name backpack was suddenly a pair of large, white wings. He took off into the air and followed them, keeping himself hidden.
In the car, the girl rummaged around in her backup, looking for the book she knew was there; all the while she chattered with her friend, complaining about her lackluster professor and the weather. Sarah glanced up as the car stopped at an intersection and started, doing a double take. Through the window and the pouring rain she could see an umbrella, a black, oversized, eerily familiar umbrella. In the rain, Sarah couldn’t see the face of the person holding the umbrella but she could make out who it was well enough by the black trench coat.
Sarah and her friend were the first car in the lane so when the man from before began walking across, she had a good view of him. The pale blur that was his face, distorted by the rain, turned towards them, and Sarah had the feeling that he was looking right at her. There was a flash of white in the pale blur and Sarah knew that he had grinned, or snarled. She shivered, the creepy-crawly feeling traveling up her spine like tickling fingers, and was infinitely glad when the light turned green and they were able to pull away.
Behind them, Malum watched and waited, until the next time.