This is my first story. It's a slow-paced, (not-so-light-hearted) slice-of-life story set in an alternate world, with a futuristic setting. It has a dash of science-fiction, fantasy, paranormal, LGBT themes and--maybe--some horror aspects, as well. Instead of romance, the story centres around a little boy and his new (non-human) friends.
Since the chapters are pretty long, they're cut in small portions and each part is published as I write.
Below is 1/3 of the three-part "Prologue:"
District E-94 was a modern locality with infrastructural designs that matched its fame.
However, in the centre of this technologically advanced neighbourhood stood a grand mansion of traditional architecture.
Although the summer sun was already high in the sky, the temperature in one of its numerous rooms dropped drastically.
And because of the classic blackout curtains, the entire place was pitch black.
CLACK!
Majestic double doors burst open.
A faint glow appeared in the distance, disrupting the darkness.
Soon after, the sound of heavy footsteps echoed in the grand space, bouncing off the walls and reverberating through the rest of the quiet mansion.
The faint light grew stronger with each step heard.
It illuminated the enormous figure ahead as well as the area around them, revealing a majestic surrounding.
"That b*stard has surely retained the lesson this time around. There's no way he would dare bring in any more of those pests into our home, what do you think?"
The voice belonged to the source of the bluish light that followed closely behind the footsteps.
It's proprietor was a semi-translucent being that floated above the ground.
Its features were fuzzy but its silhouette was undoubtedly that of a humanoid. Even its voice, albeit somewhat chilling, seemed to be that of a bubbly young female.
The footsteps stopped abruptly. A deep, animalistic growl filled the room.
The inhumane sound rattled the windows and caused the walls and ground to vibrate.
Crashing glasses and falling wood could be heard all around.
It seemed that the noise was powerful enough to cause irreparable damage to decorations in some of the nearby rooms as well.
"Scram!"
The command came out in a threatening tone.
Although seemingly shocked at first, the translucent being hovering almost over him didn't take much time to regain her initial disposition.
Leaning over the burly creature's broad shoulder, she whispered with a chuckle,
"Always so fussy about personal boundaries, aren't you, Draggie Bear."
Pulling back, she summersaulted in the air and landed straight into her favourite armchair.
Drag's eyebrows drew closer together. His muzzle wrinkled in disgust.
The deceptively genuine whimper she'd let out while feigning fear seconds prior hadn't failed to irk him.
Luckily, he had his back to her. He didn't want to give her the pleasure of knowing she was successful in one of her countless attempts at annoying him.
With his face back to its original expressionless but naturally menacing state, Drag turned to her.
The hazy glow blurring her features was no longer there.
Even though Drag towered over her from his standing position, settled in the upholstered chair with her back straight and chin up, Micaela looked like a queen looking down at a measly bug.
Her face was stern, her features sharp.
"Don't call me that," he warned through clenched teeth.
Her cold eyes didn't avert Drag's, as she rested her slightly titled head on her long, manicured fingers.
"If he refuses to get the hint after yesternight, should we turn to more drastic measures?"
Micaela's voice no longer contained the playfulness from earlier.
The childish innocence had also vanished.
It now sounded mature and beautiful, but it also contained an eerie undertone he could only associate to that of his siren acquaintances.
Drag had guessed this bothersome housemate of his wouldn't find satisfaction in the previous night's events. She surely had a couple of plans in mind to get rid of Mitch Declan—the legal owner of this place—once and for all.
The words she'd just spoken only served to reinforce his conviction on the matter.
Drag was a monster. He was born as one. He was raised as one. And he had lived as one for most of his life.
As such, he couldn't say he hadn't killed his fair share of non-monster beings in the many centuries he'd walked this land.
However, he also couldn't say that he didn't know what Micaela was capable of.
His instincts had told him on their first meeting that she'd killed before and that she wouldn't hesitate to kill again if she felt like it.
And they hadn't been wrong.
In fact, the years they'd spent under the same roof had taught him that killing—for Micaela—was a thrilling source of distraction.
The ghost, even if she'd been human at some point, was a predator. The sort that took pleasure it toying with its prey.
She would fill them with fear and despair, after which she would allow them some hope, letting them believe they'd reached safety. She would lead them to think they might just survive the nightmare she put them in. And then, she would ruthlessly snatch this shred of hope away, before slowly killing them off.
Drag had watched it happen countless times already.
Of course, he wasn't a willing spectator.
He would be perfectly comfortable in his side of the house, enjoying the serenity of solitude—away from the troubles of this wretched world—when those treacherous creatures would trespass into his territory.
Drag couldn't have cared less about their fate.
However, the moment they became aware of his existence, he could no longer allow them to escape.
Since Micaela was once human and, as such, as untrustworthy as any other non-monster humanoid being, he had to personally dispose of anyone who'd seen him. He couldn't risk his secret coming out in the open just because some annoying ghost didn't feel like finishing her tasteless "game" all of a sudden.
After all, she'd let so many of her toys leave relatively (physically) unscathed from her playground. She'd say that she'd "gotten bored of playing with them." He couldn't possibly trust that she'd take care of things properly.
Her murderous side might have gotten tamer during their years together, but that didn't mean she hadn't lost the essence of what made her who she was.
Yestereve proved just that.
Fed up of the current legal mansion owner's stubbornness to keep on moving new tenants into their home, Micaela sent one of them through the glass doors leading onto the balcony. And this time around, she did it in front of the sunny-head shloorg.
Since having the past ones running away while claiming the place was haunted didn't seem reason enough for that greedy shloorg to stop renting the place, Micaela decided to give the stubborn little human a first-hand experience of what it was like to live in a haunted residence.
To be honest, Drag doubted the efficacy of her plan.
The mansion was passed down as a legacy in the Declan family.
While the past owners had all given up on living in it or ranting it out within a few months, this new owner, Mitch Declan, had kept at it for over 5 years since he inherited it from his deceased uncle.
As expected from a non-monster creature, he'd pulled in every unknowing person he could find.
With the last family, the shloorg had even gone as far as to make them sign an agreement that'd force them to pay a hefty sum if they ever decided to annul the contract and move out.
So Micaela made the necessary arrangements to have him witness her decades of hard work with his own eyes.
She'd also called in local authorities in addition to some extras that would serve as witness to spread the word for the swindled family.
Micaela made it out as though she was concerned for the safety of the inhabitants. She even gave him a speech. It was supposedly meant to show her determination in upholding morality and helping the hand of justice punish evil.
Drag yielded 6 hours into her unceasing, nonsensical chatter.
This resulted in him being bestowed upon the (undesirable) "honour" of being in charge of "making the necessary arrangements" to "uphold justice" by "helping the law to punish sinners and save the innocents from evil."
Beneath all that flowery talk, Drag only knew how much she wanted to see that shloorg suffer. She wanted to see him shamed by all and needing to cough up money he didn't have.
It was more than certain she didn't even care whether the money went to the tenants that managed to survive the mansion or not, as long is it no longer was in his possession.
How many time had she screamed her desire to watch that shloorg crawl on the floor, writhing at her feet, before dying in absolute misery?
Just recalling the shrill curses gave him a headache.
This entire situation was annoying.
Even he, who never left the confined space of the mansion, knew that the world outside had changed.
Who would openly claim there were ghosts haunting a residential area in this new, advanced era?
If there still existed such people, how many would actually believe in their words?
But there was no way Micaela would leave him alone if he refused to entertain her.
So, looking into her bloodthirsty eyes, the now sleepy Drag reluctantly forced the words out:
"That shloorg might not set foot again in this residence for the rest of this lifetime."
Micaela's crimson lips stretched into a smile too large for any human face.
"But there's no guarantee he'll leave this place alone...."
He paused.
"...even if everyone in the area should soon be aware of what's transpired within these walls throughout the years."
Micaela's sharp nails dug into the cushioned armrest. More holes were added into the scratch-riddled fabric.
Her eyes glinted with murderous intent.
In front of her, the sleep-deprived monster felt his headache intensify.
***
Thanks to everyone who gave this blurb a shot! 😄
