Now You're In New York...
This piece is the opening for a horror short featuring my fursona, Darwen. Hope you like it - comments and feedback will be much appreciated (so long as they're not too mean). X-D
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Now You're In New York...
The plane touched down with a thud, synchronising perfectly with Darwen's heartbeat. He drew a deep breath to calm down and exhaled jaggedly.
"Sir?" The voice rang in his ears for a moment before he heard it again. "Sir!" sharper this time. He jerked his head around to see a stewardess examining his face. "Is everything okay?"
The wolf opened his mouth to speak, but his throat was too dry. He shut his mouth quickly, so as not to look foolish, before nodding and saying "mm-hm" through a smile. The flight attendant shifted her gaze to his arm rest and the foam teeming through the ripped fabric. Darwen caught a glimpse of it. 'Was I really that nervous?' he thought, retracting his claws instantly. He'd never flown before, and the experience was exhilarating, even if he'd been worried the plane would crash. He noticed that the attendant was still looking at him.
"I'm sorry." He started picking at the bits of foam from his gold-speckled fur, "I'm so sorry, I'll have this cleaned up, I didn't mean to, I just..." With one look at her face, Darwen realised he wasn't in any trouble. "First time flyer," he coyly smiled. She returned the smile, obviously used to this kind of behaviour. Maybe it was supposed to comfort him, but he still felt like he was crazy.
The plane had come to a halt by now and the passengers were anxious to get off - but none more so than Darwen. He hadn't been to New York City (he hadn't been out of his little village where he grew up before now), but he'd heard great things. The Empire State building, the Statue of Liberty, Broadway, but seeing his family again would be the best part about this journey. They'd moved away two years ago, but Darwen still had to finish his university studies. After receiving a first class honours degree, he decided that he deserved the treat. He spent all the money he'd been saving up and decided to surprise them. He had their address written down in his pocket. He checked his watch, which read 0600. Darwen looked confused as he glanced at the black sky. 'That can't be right...' And then it dawned upon him - time difference. He had to ask someone for the time, getting ignored several times. After two foxes and a cat had blanked him (and one not-so-charming tiger had told him to "get lost"), he found out it was one o'clock in the morning.
He sighed in relief, his tail relaxing slightly. He'd check into the hotel he booked online, get a good night's sleep and surprise his relatives in the morning. After picking up his one suitcase from the terminal, Darwen headed for the exit. As he moved through the automatic doors, the frozen air hit him, making him pull his leather coat closer into his body. He'd expected to see a line of yellow taxis waiting outside, but there was only one... which drove its passenger away. He wanted to swear, but didn't like using foul language. What was the point? 'No cabs waiting... so,' Darwen thought aloud, suddenly buzzing with enthusiasm. He ran to the road and took one cautious step into it, trying to hail a moving cab. He'd seen it happen in the films, so had a rough idea of what to do.
The taxis swerved and honked at him furiously. Darwen even had to jump out of the way as one came within millimetres of running over his paw and the driver called out something he instantly wiped from his mind. With a deep breath of frustration, he climbed out of the road, knowing that he wouldn't get anywhere like this.
"How far was it...?" he asked himself. He'd already checked where the hotel was before even getting on the plane. He'd been warned that London cab drivers would've taken him for a spin if he didn't know the area, just to up the fare. He'd expected the same in New York. "Four miles," he said through gritted teeth. It'd take him about an hour of walking to get there, a thought which he didn't really relish when he factored in the darkness and the fact he was in foreign waters. After a minute's deliberating, he shrugged it off and realised he had no other option. "And I can buy them something nice with the money I save," he beamed. At least now he had a good reason to do this potentially dangerous task.
Two miles in and he'd finally reached the main road. His legs were quivering with the cold weather and his perfect teeth chattered in his maw. He shook it off, remembering the way ahead. "The best route was... a hundred and fortieth street," he nodded, convincing himself that he was right, not overly sure that he was. When he saw the road sign reading "140th St", Darwen's confidence was kicked into high gear. He moved faster, stretched his cold fingers across his suitcase, and continued down the bumpy street.
Not half a mile later, Darwen's face dropped. Construction work.
"Great!" he hissed into the night air, watching his breath drift away. The site was cutting off Rockaway Boulevard - the direct route to the La Quinta Inn. There were signs for a diversion, but the tailback stretched on further than he could see, and honking cars went on as far as he could hear. Darwen knew he had a better sense of hearing than most. This wasn't a good sign. He sighed and looked over at the barricaded site.
_ 'I shouldn't...'_ he thought. But then what? Another mile or two onto the journey? And that's if he didn't get lost. This trip had been planned very carefully and Darwen didn't want anything to stand in his way. He looked at the towering yellow crane, stiffened his tail and said calmly, "Let's go."
The site wasn't too heavily guarded. Good, the less work he had to do, the quicker he could get out of there. A low fence stood between the site and the crossing road, reading 'NO ENTRY!' in black text on a yellow board.
"I'll just pretend I don't speak English," he chuckled to himself, wondering what might happen if he was suddenly caught as he vaulted over the fence. That thought soon spurred him on to move quickly. He didn't want to get caught trespassing on his first night in a new country. Darwen picked up the pace, almost power-walking his way through the site. Soon, the hubbub of the traffic seemed to die out. All too quickly for his liking. The only sound remaining was his tired breath and the rolling wheels of his luggage. His tail stiffened as he paused to look behind him. 'How far have I walked? Shouldn't I be there by now?' he thought, letting the cold air run through his fur, hearing the silence and feeling alone. Then a horrifying thought occurred.
What if he wasn't alone?
His eyes widened at the thought, horror striking him suddenly. He started off again, even quicker now, and chuckled quietly, snorting through his nose. His breath became stilted and his heart was beating in his stomach as he realised the truth. He was laughing to convince himself that he was the only one there...
...even though he knew he wasn't.