AURORA

XX

JANUARY 2020

THE MODERN WORLD

AZEALA LAQUI

-

II stared at him deadpan, my eyes half-closed.

"You're death," I asked. I knew who he was, heck all the sanguine knew, but to think he was standing in front of me looking like a normal man brought me to hysteria. He carried on staring at me.

"Yeah and I'm god," I said.

"You don't believe."

"You think I do," I asked, he ignored me.

"I don't have to prove anything to you," he said.

"Of course, you don't," I said rolling my eyes, "You know you can just saunter up to me your boorish manner and be like, yeah, you, you're dead and I'm death, what's up. You wanna play a game."

"Of course," he said, not missing a beat, I sighed in frustration, taking a deep breath from my nose.

"Okay," I said drawling, trying to prevent myself from throwing something at his face, "Can you get me home."

"This is your home," he said, "till you win the game."

"Well, then death, can you please get me back to bloody earth." He gave me a long look; the cupid bow of his mouth puckering.

"Fine," he said at last and walked away. I stared at his back, what dead thing crawled up his trousers, I thought following him.

"Go," he said, pushing me to the weird looking door in the mountain.

"God, you don't have to be so rude," I said as he opened the door, I froze for a millisecond as his hand rested on my back. Sparks shot through me and a familiar feeling overwhelmed me, but I forced it away. I rolled my eyes at him, making sure that he saw, then walked through the door.

The atmosphere changed and I felt the sun shining on my back, my first reaction was to hide, the smell of blood was too strong, and I had the strong desire to remember.

The thing was when you turned old, your memory faded and to bring it back, sometimes blood was drunk. The desire here was too strong.

I stared at my hands; the perfectly structured ring I normally wore didn't adorn my fingers. I turned around to the glass wall and examined my reflection. Good, my eyes were green not the usual blue. I nearly died in relief. I turned to a stranger walking on the street.

"Excuse me," I asked, "What colour is my hair." She gave me a weird look, like I was out of my mind. Who knows, maybe I was.

"It's brown," she said. I smiled.

"Thank you."

Well that had been sorted out. As far as I knew I was fine. I stared at the rest of my reflection, I looked presentable. I was still wearing what I wore on new year. I turned, thinking what I should do now.

First, I needed blood. I examined the street and once I saw the perfect victim, a young man, look at me and walk away, I smiled. Straightening my dress out, I began to follow him. He glanced back just once, he had an admiring smirk on his face, he was interested.

He walked into a random door, most likely the back entrance of a pub, I followed him. Opening the door, I stepped into (I was correct) a pub. An awfully smelly one at that.

I walked to the man I had eyed, a smile on my face.

"You up," I asked, directing my head to one of the rooms.

He grinned, "sure."

An evil smile leaked to my face, I wasn't going to kill him, I was just gonna take a sip. Pushing him into the room, I ripped his shirt open as his fingers trailed my open back. He thought I was eager. He couldn't be more wrong.

I, then scaring the living daylights of him, bared my teeth. My tongue liked them, missing the sharp smooth feel.

"Wait," he managed to muter as I bit into his neck. I was a clean eater so in a matter of a few seconds I was done. The warm blood dripping down my throat and the familiar metallic taste tingling in my mouth, I said, "Thank you."

I walked out the building. Now full, my brain began to remember the actions of the past. Especially, I thought as fear dripped into me, especially -my death. Loss of blood equalled loss of memory, so my death hadn't been clear. But now thinking about it, hands sweaty and feet clenched the floor I remembered.

The door had flung open and two men had run inside, 'I think she's the one,' one of them had said. It was the split second of hesitation of trying to be a good person and not take lives that had gotten me killed. He ran at me, the arrow plunged in and out of my body so fast, I hadn't had time to recover. It continued for five minutes before I froze, the life seeping out of me.

There in the middle of the road, I felt my non-existent heartbeat.

I'm dead.

If I am dead, death is real. And if death is real, I might actually become in debt to death. And that was the last thing I needed.

Glancing at the people around me, a surge of anger filled me. I shouldn't be merciful to these people, all they caused was more problems.

But you're dead, the world repeated.

"God, I'm dead," I muttered to myself. All the years of built up confidence and precise measurement fell in that moment of doubt. What if death was actually won, I wasn't ready to serve him.

I felt a pang of loss, then sudden regret. As cliche as it might have sounded, I realised that I hadn't lived my life as I had wanted to live it, I had done so much wrong. I regretted it. Regretted living my life on whim, regretted having relationships that meant nothing and most of all, I thought surprising myself. Regretted living life on the basis of the wrong emotions.

Where was love, peace, and happiness in my life.

Where?

Nowhere.

So, I ran, it was the most logical response I had. Recognizing where I was, I directed my route to the safehouse. It wasn't' the safest, but it would have to do.

I ran across the city, through the corners and alleyways. I could feel perspiration drip down my forehead, and I closed my eyes allowing all my other senses to take lead.

And then I went and ran straight into a man.

He looked at me shocked, I raised a brow. I couldn't help but roll my eyes as he checked me out.

"What's wrong, princess." Princess, I thought staring at him, was he for real.

"I'm fine," I responded, confused why I was even talking to him.

"Are you sure," he asked, "I could help."

"No," I said. He smiled at me and held out his hand, like I was supposed to shake it. I was irritated.

"Who the heck are you," I asked.

"Louis," he said retracting his hand, but the grin remained there.

"Well, it's nice to meet you," I said slowly.

"Don't you have a name."

"No, my mother decided I wouldn't," I replied sarcastically. I was disoriented, that's why I was talking to him. I froze.

"I had a feeling we'd meet again, that's why I asked," he said. I looked at him, deciding whether or not he was a serial killer.

"Princess, will do," I responded, not wanting to kill anyone.

"Okay," he smiled, "Princess."

***

Okay, by now you could have a solid outlook on where everything is going. Who knows maybe one of you could be next sherlock. Anyway tell me what you think of louis.

OOMPA LOOMPA