One Traveler, Long Stood [COMPLETE]
Characters: Odd Thomas, James Sunderland.
Content: After spending a little too much time at internet cafés, Odd Thomas needs to locate a dwelling place. And he finds hospitality with an unlikely company.
Location: A road leading to St. Patrick’s Cathedral.
Time of day: Evening, while most places are closing. Takes place after this.
Warnings: Chances are there may be language of the colorful variety. And I’m not talking about the Skittles kind.
It was getting late, and the roads darkened without even streetlights to shine the way. You didn’t have to be extra intuitive to know that this was a bad time to be out (and by your lonesome no less), though being aware of it certainly did help.
Odd didn’t have much on him in the ways of self-protection, so he kept quiet as possible, assimilated into the dark. So far he only heard the stories of Big Mommy and her little charming family of crablets; not exactly the sort of subject he expected to sit and have a pleasant dinner conversation about.
For one thing, all he had to do was take a good look around and figure out what had been done. And not just the ruins of the city itself, either, but the black shapes. Some were distinct as people, whereas others...not so much. While before many of their kind flocked to him for aid or company, these silent and unseen walkers glided by without taking heed of his presence. As if these ones did not imagine him to be of any help and, sadly, this was probably true.
How strange.
But then, everything has been that way since he got there.
Before leaving the café, Odd had asked one of the baristas as to the way to St. Patrick’s Cathedral. For the most part he got detailed directions, enough to put him on his way. He ambled on, waiting at any given point to meet the one who called himself James along the way.
Odd took a moment to breathe. Another thing he noticed since he got there was that he wore out easily, too. He only hoped that this was related to the nature of his arrival, and nothing else.
In that instant, he feels the black shapes slip away, shrouded by the falling shadows over the dead city. Only one of them remains though different from the rest, for she is unblackened, yet pale and sickly; almost glowing as she stands between two trees, alone.
Odd blinked. She does not turn, but before he could say anything, she is gone.
And all that’s left is the scuttles in the night.
Content: After spending a little too much time at internet cafés, Odd Thomas needs to locate a dwelling place. And he finds hospitality with an unlikely company.
Location: A road leading to St. Patrick’s Cathedral.
Time of day: Evening, while most places are closing. Takes place after this.
Warnings: Chances are there may be language of the colorful variety. And I’m not talking about the Skittles kind.
It was getting late, and the roads darkened without even streetlights to shine the way. You didn’t have to be extra intuitive to know that this was a bad time to be out (and by your lonesome no less), though being aware of it certainly did help.
Odd didn’t have much on him in the ways of self-protection, so he kept quiet as possible, assimilated into the dark. So far he only heard the stories of Big Mommy and her little charming family of crablets; not exactly the sort of subject he expected to sit and have a pleasant dinner conversation about.
For one thing, all he had to do was take a good look around and figure out what had been done. And not just the ruins of the city itself, either, but the black shapes. Some were distinct as people, whereas others...not so much. While before many of their kind flocked to him for aid or company, these silent and unseen walkers glided by without taking heed of his presence. As if these ones did not imagine him to be of any help and, sadly, this was probably true.
How strange.
But then, everything has been that way since he got there.
Before leaving the café, Odd had asked one of the baristas as to the way to St. Patrick’s Cathedral. For the most part he got detailed directions, enough to put him on his way. He ambled on, waiting at any given point to meet the one who called himself James along the way.
Odd took a moment to breathe. Another thing he noticed since he got there was that he wore out easily, too. He only hoped that this was related to the nature of his arrival, and nothing else.
In that instant, he feels the black shapes slip away, shrouded by the falling shadows over the dead city. Only one of them remains though different from the rest, for she is unblackened, yet pale and sickly; almost glowing as she stands between two trees, alone.
Odd blinked. She does not turn, but before he could say anything, she is gone.
And all that’s left is the scuttles in the night.