Hidden Angels
MOTE Prompt Response
I staggered against the wall, one hand trailing along it, trying to keep myself upright. Whatever attacked me back there had run off, but I wasn’t taking any chances. Leaning heavily against the rough brick, I made my way to the corner of the building. Who knew taking out the trash could become some sort of monster hunting game? I fished my pepper spray out of my jacket pocket, staring at the long tear down my favorite hoodie. The pepper spray was probably completely ineffective, but it was the best I had. Perhaps I needed to look into some shooting classes. Would regular bullets work on whatever jumped me on the corner?
“This is getting ridiculous,” I muttered. “I need to move the hell outta here. I am so not down with living in the eldritch horror neighborhood.”
“Yes, little human, you probably should leave the area,” a deep, gravelly voice said from behind me.
I jumped and spun around, looking down the length of the apartment building. There wasn’t anybody, or anything down there.
“Right. Noted. I’ll be checking rentals first thing in the morning. Maybe the other side of town is my best bet,” I said, still carefully working my way toward the door into my apartment building.
Once I reached the questionable safety of the building entry, I took a second to look around the area once again. Nothing was out of place, nothing seemed off. In fact, the entire block, cars and all, looked exactly as it had every night for the last two years. So, what had happened in the last couple of days to turn my fairly quiet, non-eldritch neighborhood into… well, into whatever it was that attacked me tonight? And speaking of, why had whatever it was run off so suddenly. I’m pretty sure it wasn’t my impressive fighting skills.
Figuring that was a puzzle best considered in the dubious safety of my apartment, I put my key fob against the pad and let myself into the building. I pulled the door closed behind me rather than waiting for it to take its sweet time swinging shut. I was going to do my best to make sure nobody and nothing came through that door because of me.
I trotted up the two flights of stairs to my third floor apartment. I really did like this apartment. The building had been built in the ‘30s, so the apartments had some character. They weren’t all just identical subdivided boxes. Mine had a short entry hall that opened into a small living room on the left, with big windows giving me a nice view into the main square of town. To the right a dining room big enough for a six-seat table, had an admittedly tiny, almost microscopic, kitchen off of it. Another hallway, continuing from the entry, went back to two bedrooms and a decent bathroom. All in all, it was the perfect apartment for me.
Until now. While I really liked this apartment, I didn’t want to deal with whatever was currently stalking this neighborhood.
The next morning, I had almost convinced myself that the previous night’s adventures had been nothing more than a hyper-realistic dream. That all came crashing down when, while I was still on my first cup of coffee, I spotted the hoodie I’d been wearing, and the long tear down the front gave my eyes the evidence my brain was refusing to process.
I poured myself a second cup of coffee and called in sick to work. I needed to figure out what had happened and why. I didn’t really believe we were sitting on a hellmouth or anything like that, since I didn’t really believe in that stuff, but I wasn’t going to take any chances. There had to be somebody in town who understood this stuff.
I grabbed a travel mug and emptied my coffee cup into it, adding as much as I could from the pot. I turned everything off, grabbed my keys, phone, and bag before finally grabbing an intact hoodie from the hook by the front door.
Trotting down the stairs, I formed a vague plan. There was a section of town where the concentration of psychics, fortune tellers, palm readers, and crystal stores was higher than anywhere else. I’d head over there; it would be a good place to start.
I’d just stepped out the main door of the building when the smell hit me. The nasty combination of rotting meat, swamp gas, and old farts mixed in with the general miasma of car exhaust sent me reeling. I coughed and shoved my face into the crook of my elbow. Good God, that was disgusting.
It was also familiar.
That was the smell I’d noticed last night right before whatever it was had jumped me and pushed me into the wall. I scrambled to get back inside my building, heavy footsteps racing toward me. I still couldn’t see the source of the thudding footsteps, but my eyes were watering so badly, I wasn’t seeing anything anyway.
Lighter steps, running quickly, came from the other direction. Great. I was going to end up smashed against the door of my building by two whatevers. They’d probably find what was left of me clutching my key fob in a vain attempt to get inside. Not that I could find my key fob right now.
The lighter steps sped up and through my tears I saw a lithe, dark, masked figure racing toward me. The figure made a waving gesture as if telling me to get out of the way. I immediately jumped to the side and crouched down against the building. I had no idea what was about to happen, but if it meant someone else was going to take on the approaching swamp garbage bucket, I was more than happy to let them.
The masked figure leapt into the air, and Scouts honor, flew toward whatever was coming up from my other side. I still couldn’t see anything, but the thudding footsteps had stopped. The masked person, I assume it was a person, hit what appeared to be air with a solid thump.
The air exploded with black sparkles and my ears rang like I was standing inside a tympani… while it was being played.
The masked person landed lightly and turned to me. I could just see a smile under the half-mask.
“You should continue with the plan you made earlier. It will be important.” He or she gave a small bow and ran back the way they came.
I took a long sip of coffee. “Okay. There’s definitely something weird going on. But I guess that sometimes the masked figures aren’t monsters, they’re angels of mercy trying to help. Because they sure as hell just saved my ass.”
After another sip of coffee, I made my way to my car and headed for the weird side of town to start looking for answers.
******
This week’s prompt response came from nother Mike: Sometimes the masked figures aren’t bandits, they’re angels of mercy trying to help… My prompt went to Parrish Baker. If you want to see what everybody else did, make your way over to More Odds Than Ends and check out the responses.