Starry Night Thoughts

Two chapters worth of words but no plot exist head empty

To preface this with more than just a chapter, I got the idea of seeing a writing prompt this on social media the other day. Normally I ignore them but this apparently scratched my noggin the right way to go for it.

What followed was about 4500 words of an idea that had nowhere to go.

I do have ideas on what I could do with this and honestly could have done another 4k from just this but 1) I don't have time and 2) I am distraction central and if I do not finish one project it will never get done and I want it to get done.

So this goes here for now. It doesn't have a title. It doesn't have reasons for what leads into his besides 'bad guy do bad thing, less bad guy find bad things.'

Read it if you want. It's long. It's going here for now because I want to. It's probably got errors and no I haven't checked. It's the beginnings of a thought that hasn't really been established yet.
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Kaleb Heath just wanted to have a normal Friday night. Just him, a bowl of popcorn, his cat, and some old silent film he'd grabbed from the library a week prior and never got a chance to watch.

A normal, mundane, Friday night.

When something slammed against his front door and scraped down the side he knew he wasn't going to get his wish.

He paused the movie almost immediately, set the half empty bowl of popcorn on the desk in front of him, overtop a few old blueprints he'd drawn out for an extension to his home that he never bothered to move. As he did he grabbed a relatively long pillow and placed it over the top of the bowl to stall time before his cat could get into it.

Kaleb waited a moment, listening for any other sound... like maybe footsteps as they left. Or weapons readying. Or voices.

Nothing.

Why him? Why couldn't whatever event it was move three houses down, why'd it have to pick him?

Midway to the door he paused, eyes lingering on a bookcase a split second too long.

It was fine. Chances were, it was the neighbor's kids playing pranks again and he'd get to explain to them, nicely, why exactly they should leave him the hell alone.

It was fine.

Kaleb Heath opened the door to silence. Just a flickering light that lit up the narrow walkway between the yard and his porch broken the stillness of the night.

Then, he looked down and to the right.

In the corner, pulled in by shadows and the slim area the light didn't touch, was a girl. She had a thin, pale face-- forehead, chin and cheeks covered in tiny scratches, with a deep purple splotch forming on her left cheek, right under her eye. Her hair was so blonde it was nearly white, straight as a pin, and short enough it appeared it'd usually be in a type of bob around her chin,  except now strands of it were knotted and plastered over bloody streaks on her face. Her body was thin, like a dancer's, except now it folded in odd ways and held too many rivers of blood down her bare arms and legs, some limbs torn from slashes and some with bullet holes. Her fingers splayed out with each gurgled breath, dancing around a long, metal sword shoved deep into her chest.

She'd have been cute, if not for the damage done to her.

Kaleb stared, open mouthed, at the girl. He'd seen things. Sometimes been around them as they happened.

Nothing like this.

This, that managed to be on his porch at ten o' clock at night instead of a hospital.

The two locked eyes. Hers were odd. Familiar in a way they shouldn't have been. Deep brown, nearly all black, they swarmed with echos of the darkness around her.