On the street of Rosevelt, you could find a small library. So small and inconspicuous that you'd most likely walk pass without notice. But inside there was a young man leaning over the counter while reading a book.
The young man had dirty blonde-hair and wore thick prescription glasses. He was more on the scrawnier side, but was still built well. His name tag read the name of, Charles.
"Sigh… What am I to do with this life of mine? I'm stuck here working at a small book store no one visits. How in the world am I supposed to pay tuition at this point, when I'm making crumbs every month!"
Charles spoke to himself in a slight French accent.
"WHY! Did I agree to apply for this job, knowing full well I wouldn't be making much?… wait, I remember now. I just couldn't say no to that sweet old woman. She needed help and I wanted to help".
"At least there's not much to do around. These fairytales are good for entertainment, though I wonder when Mrs. Summer will return".
*yawn*
Time passed as Charles spent the hour absorbed in his book with the occasional water break in between a couple minutes. His favorite book was the one with the princess who had a heart of pure courage. A true warrior who led armies into battles and was the last to leave. Though she did have a soft side that had captured the heart of Charles who had always loved the story as a child. He was deeply invested in the story despite having read it so many times, that was until yelling and screams could be heard outside the front of the store.
Charles looked up to see Mrs. Summer in the process of being mugged at knife point by a homeless looking man.
"Hey b*tch, hand over your money".
The homeless man demanded with a foul breath. The eyes were yellow and a crazed expression plastered the man's face.
Mrs. Summer tried to back away from the man with trembling hands, while clutching her purse.
"SOMEONE HELP!"
She cried out.
Charles bolted around the counter and rushed out the door to tackle the man, despite knowing full well his life was now also on the line. His body was moving on its own
The man grunts as he's forced to the ground.
Both men hiss in pain as they land blows on each other. Charles, filled with adrenaline, felt strength he normally wouldn't possess, he overpowered the homeless man and got on top.
*POW, WAM, CRACK, BAM*.
Each blow landed on the homeless man with sloppiness, but were effective enough to bloody and stagger the man. Charles kept striking the man until he felt that the man was knocked out.
Charles, breathed heavily as he slowly stood up. He looked at the bloodied man with shock in his eyes as he never thought he could cause such brutality. He would normally be a timid person by heart, but the cry of someone he was close to triggered something in him.
"Mrs. Summer's, are you hurt"?
He rushed over to check if she suffered any injuries from the encounter.
He profusely tried to ease the shaking Mrs. Summer's. After all, it was not everyday you'd experience such trouble in a quiet area. Eventually Mrs. Summer managed to catch her breath. She profusely grabbed him, thanking him for saving her life.
"Thank you, thank you, THANK YOU! I'm so glad I hired you. Is there any way I can repay you?"
As the two were busy with each other. The homeless man began to regain consciousness, grunting he regained his footing. The knife that was knocked down was picked up. He slowly advanced toward them with a drug-like haze. Charles, who was faced away from the man, was still unaware of the looming threat.
"BEHIND YOU!"
Shouted Mrs. Summer, who had just noticed that the homeless man was up and now charging at them. Charles, whirled around in time to feel a sharp pain seizing his abdomen. Looking down he could see a large kitchen knife embedded deep into his gut.
The homeless man didn't stop at one stab . He keeps pulling his knife back and forth, over and over with a sick smile. Obviously this man was under some kind of substance.
Charles was in howling pain as such a savage attack. He knew if he didn't stop the man right away. Mrs. Summer was also in the likelihood of facing the same fate. He screamed in rage, the adrenaline returned to give him enough strength to clock the man over his jaw, knocking him back. With the man staggered, Charles didn't take any chances this time. He would make sure this man was bloodied.
He sweeps the man's legs to knock him down, before jumping up to land a dropping knee to the man's face. A sickening crunch could be heard, and blood slowly began puddling around where the man's head was. The adrenaline that was coursing through Charles began to fade and the pain returned as he collapsed to the paved sidewalk. Each breath felt like labored pain and his ears rang with an annoying buzz. He clutched his belly where the knife still held its place. He knew if pulled out, the blood loss would speed up to a point it'd most likely kill him. In fact he was already going into shock. His vision blurred, the world went quiet and Mrs. Summer was desperately calling for an ambulance while trying to make sure he was still with her.
"NO! No no no no NO! Stay with me Charles. You'll be ok, PLEASE be ok".
She tried to reassure in a choked voice from the falling tears. Some by-passers who had just shown up rushed over at such a grim site. Charles was trying to stay alive as long as he could, but was losing too much blood now. In the eighteen minutes that took the ambulance to show up felt so long, too long to him. The red and blue lights were blinding. He no longer felt anything as the paramedics carefully placed him on the stretcher.
(Is this truly it for me?) he thought to himself. *Someone check his pulse* yelled the head paramedic. (To be murdered before I could do anything more in life) *applying pressure to the abdomen, stay with me now*. The paramedics frantically try to assure him while working to stop the bleeding. Charles' eyelids began to feel heavier and heavier, until they closed shut. (If only I had a second chance to be more) was his final thoughts before flatlining. The female paramedic immediately started chest compressions to try and resuscitate him, but it was far too late now.
But then confusion. Charles felt like he was now floating through water, instead of the light at the end of the tunnel. He began to sink deeper at a slow pace, though it felt soothing and lights began to pop up. Like an ethereal dance of color he had never seen before. He could hear the colors whisper to him and see sound waves. Though the peaceful moment was cut short since the lights began to dim and colored silhouettes in the hundreds appeared out of nowhere to stand, walk, and circled him. But what caught his eye the most was two specific figures that struck fear into his very soul. The first was a lanky figure of a jester that danced and contorted in ways no person should. It circled him the closest as if reaching out to touch. But it was the second silhouette that stood out the most since it towered over all the hundreds of figures around him. The outline looked androgynous, but still mostly feminine, though the real eye catcher was what formed this being. Stars, galaxies, planets, and colorful gases made up its body like it was the universe itself. Charles felt a drumming dread seeping into him even though he was already dead. The entity reached out a titanic finger that resembled a crashing meteor flying straight at him. The finger hits him, causing a rippling effect that makes everything around him go dark. No sight, no sound, and no feel. Then suddenly tendrils began to wrap around Charles' body, but it wasn't attacking… more like directing. Charles felt himself being dragged lower into the abyss. Except now when he opened his eyes, he could see that he was now free falling from the sky. The cool air hit his skin at such a rapid pace it felt like needles.
"Ahhhhhhhh, is this how I'm gonna die again? By falling into a paste".
Charles screamed in a frantic panic. However his body was being dropped toward a specific direction of an old run down looking mansion near the outskirts of the woods. As he plummeted closer to the roof of the mansion, but before he could make impact, he woke up convulsing on a chair. Charles clutched his throat as his body thrashed in desperate need for air. His eyes frantically looked around in a dark personal office he didn't recognize. There was a single lit lamp on a desk in front of the large window. Outside the window was a blue moon. Yet what caught his eye was the s*icide note next to the gas lamp that read.
{To whoever finds my body, know that you drove me to breaking. To be an outcast laughed by everyone despite the effort to give the common folk happiness. A loveless child to figureheads who could care less about my death. But to my butler, I thank you for the loyalty shown to always be by myself. Now I drink poison to snuff my flame. Sign, Cedric}.
Charles banged his head on the oak desk rapidly in agonizing pain. A sharpness could be felt at his belly like he had just been stabbed again. Charles reared over to what looked like a trash bin to attempt to flush out the poison throw vomiting. His finger moved to the back of his throat, making him gag several times but not enough to puke. Having no choice, he resorted to pounding his stomach. This time it was enough to spew the contents out of his body. A loud cry comes out of him as he barely manages to sit back onto the chair in a pained groan. To his left was an empty vial- most likely the poison. Though in front of him was a small mirror prompt up to face him directly. The face that looked back was of a different person, though his vision was still blurry to see properly. The clothes he was in looked worn but still somewhat expensive. He could only describe it as Victorian looking. Then a second sharp pain struck his belly again and Charles fell to the floor in a loud cry. But this time he could hear a pair of feet running to him. The doors burst open to reveal a middle aged looking man in a butler's uniform, who rushed over to his side.
"Sir, Hawthorne. I'm here, what happened to you?" The obviously worried butler questioned his master.
The butler cradled his master in his arms, while trying to assess the situation of the ailing person who he thinks is his master.
"I'll try and get you to your bed"
Since the butler was a smaller man, he had to resort to dragging his master out the office, down to the hallway, and his master bedroom. The struggle was great. The butler grunts each time he has to pull since his master was larger than him. During the process of being dragged, Charles was starting to lose consciousness from the lingering ailments of the poison still coursing through his system. He mentally cursed every moment he woke up in this unfamiliar location. With his eyes now closed, the feeling of being laid onto a bed followed.
Now slowly drifting off into the realm of dreams. Charles would see the figures from earlier again, except this time hundreds of whispering voices in all different languages struck him from all directions.
"AAAAHHHH, get out of my head. Shut up"!
As the dream progresses, the louder the whispering gets. Charles desperately tried plugging his ears just to realize it was also coming from his own head. He tried running but steel threads shot out of nowhere to bind him. The steel threads cut into his skin, causing pained moans, then dread! But not from the threads, but from the sudden figure standing a couple feet away from his position. Coldness followed the man as he approached, the silver vulture mask he wore was very visible unlike the silhouettes. In the left hand of the masked man was an ornate dagger with snakes working along the pattern.
*Thump, thump, thump, thump*
Charles' heart pounded each step the masked man took. The knot turning in his stomach grew tighter by the second. The very recent fear of being stabbed is still fresh in his mind. The need to yell was urgent, but what came out his mouth was nothing. Slowly the man lifted his left arm up and thrust it forward to Charles rapidly beating chest. Before the dagger could make contact, Charles woke up panting.
"Just a nightmare"
[Clock strikes 1, Does the king fall?]