The Hours of Darkness - Crimson Eyes: (PROLOGUE)
THE HOURS OF DARKNESS SERIES:
Crimson Eyes
(PROLOGUE)
By: McLeod
I opened my eyes to see the moon high above me, its soft radiance flowing down like a velvety mist. Wispy clouds passed over its surface, sending shadows of silver down upon the Earth. The air smelled of freshly cut grass...and blood.
My blood.
Everywhere.
It soon became very clear to me that my memory was disrupted. The grassy field in which I awoke was not familiar to me in the slightest. The city in the distance - I could not remember its name. And the blood that was covering the grass around me in harsh, angular splatters... I had no memory of how it got there.
The blood confused me. It was odd because I had no injuries upon my body, and yet I knew that the crimson essence scattered about had originated from my being. I was amazed at how I could have survived that much blood loss - there was so much.
I stood, my body feeling oddly powerful and light. From where I was, I could see no tracks leading away from where I had awoken. Whoever, or whatever, had attacked me had an excellent sense of hiding its tracks. No footprints meant that I couldn't try and find the person that was the cause of the expulsion my red matter.
How annoying.
As I walked towards the lake's edge, my body felt charged with an unexplainable energy. I felt as if I would never tire, as if I could jump over skyscrapers - or even mountains. This raw power flowing through my being confused and excited me - it also scared the hell out of me. With not the vaguest memory of who, or what, I was, I had no answers to any of the questions rolling around within my mind.
This also annoyed me greatly.
Once at the water's edge, I peered into its reflective surface, trying to catch a glimpse of who this stranger was whose body I was in control of.
I gasped at what I saw.
Staring back at me from the lake's surface was a teenage male - a very beautiful teenage male with arsenic-white skin. His white-blond hair was shoulder length, and bone straight, parted at a perfect angle. His face - my face - looked serene and calm.
But the beauty was not what shocked me the most.
It was the eyes: they were glowing with a crimson hue that seemed to penetrate the deepest layers of my soul with fear. They were evil ... and pure looking at the same time. They were the eyes of a killer, I felt.
Was that who I was? A killer?
I wanted answers. I needed answers.
I made a quick search of my person for any trace of information, hoping to at least find some I.D.. I had no luck there.
But: I found a phone number. And a name. It was the only piece of knowledge that I had on my entire body - all of my other pockets were completely empty. The number was scrawly onto the back of a scrap of paper, the edges looked as if they had been singed by a flame. The name had been written underneath the phone number, but only half of it was visible. The other half was smeared beyond comprehension. The name read:
Rixer.
Rixer? The name didn't ring a bell.
But, it did feel familiar.
Something about that name made my spine tingle with a sensation that I couldn't identify. I had to find out who this "Rixer" was. I had a feeling that he/she/it would know who I was, and that he/she/it could help me understand what had happened to me.
I suppose the city would be the best place to start.
Something urged me to check out the night time hang out spots - the places that normal people strayed away from. They shouldn't be too hard to find.
So, with the scrap of paper folded neatly in my back pocket, I headed for the tall, illuminated buildings in the distance, an adventurous rush flowing through my body. I was traveling into the "unknown", the only defense I had was the fiber-woven paper in my back pocket.
Some weapon, huh?
Rixer, whoever you are, I am coming to find you.
Ladies and Gentlemen, let the adventure begin.