Noel’s steps were reckless and casual, uncaring to take caution with a stranger. The shadow in the distance didn’t change in color, but he was a curious writer looking for inspiration and events. Perhaps there was a meal they have left to spare, whoever they are. In the frigid temperatures, he had the terrain working to his advantage. Noel felt warmth in the cold, a normal human was bound to choke on dry air should they aim to pursue him on foot.
Justifications, pretty words in order to make sense of an unsure future.
The curious writer closed the distance between the both of them, yet the closeness cleared nothing. A blank blurry grey glitching space that stood menacingly in front of him. There was no trace of life other than the figure outlining the shape of a human, but there was no movement. If anything wanted to act with malicious intent, it was now.
“What…?” Noel asked, feeling slight chills around it. The vibe this space-like… Thing is giving sent nothing but bad signals.
Though slightly disturbed by its presence, Noel stubbornly stood in place. A firm grip was held onto the two books in his possession. One of them made for good ammunition, the other was too sacred to discard. Maybe the pen would be the one to go before the journal. The photos can perish, colorless stories for the readers was a small price to pay.
“Wasteful. Absolutely wasteful. ” A masculine voice whispered coldly right next to his ear.
Noel’s body jolted at the sudden voice, attempting to stumble forward to get away. Unfortunately, his body found itself unable to. A sudden static vibrating sensation coursed through his body, sharp and painful pinches took nips throughout to inflict teeth-clenching pain.
There was a human behind him, for he felt the palm of a hand wrap around his wrist. A severe level of heat was inside that palm, obviously the link between them that caused this unfortunate state. Noel was no fighter, but the desire to run was not much different than the wish for strength. And there was plenty of desire in that sense.
“Pitiful. Unable to imagine a way out of this.” This time, the voice sounded more like a voice in his head. Yet somehow, audible in his ears. A voice that was everywhere to demonstrate obvious dominance. It was definitely the voice of the one behind him. Whatever they could do was unnatural, the thoughts of what could happen at the end of this encounter easily placed panic at the core of the passive writer.
Confusing words for the boy, he was unable to understand. He just wanted to write, this wasn’t something he’d wish to endure. Everything in him was screaming for some sort of escape, but no call could be answered. There was no one to turn to. Audible steps could be heard from behind, likely from the same source. Noel’s heart was racing fast as the crunches of the snow steps grew louder, echoing as each one was taken. Whatever this voice was sounded disgusted and terrifying, hellish was an accurate word to describe it.
And then the crunches stopped.
Soon, silence followed. Noel was still unable to take control over his body, leaving him anxious. There was no escape from whatever is going to happen to him, yet there was so much to be done. Dying takes away a lot of problems, but it takes away the joys of the journal. There was a purpose to be fulfilled.
“Winter.” Now the voice was no longer in his head. The words were out in the open again, leaning towards the right. “Writing is beautiful. Crafting words into life. Yet you seem forgetful of your role.”
At last, a few more steps were taken to reveal a spitting image of… Noel? Same white and black hat, red shirt, blue jeans, red shoes, even the laces were untied. Everything was the same, from the “No” signs in his eyes to the way his hair flows. Mirrored, but that smile and calm half-closed set of eyes failed to hide something… Sinister.
“He wanted me to remind you of your role. That’s why little ol’ me will have to demonstrate.” Mirror Noel explained with a cheery tune in his voice.
No time was wasted for the copy to claim the journal to himself, snatching it into his grip. Now his heart was beating much faster, the urge to scream was painful. Noel’s one source to write in, his purpose! And it was in the hands of someone who could end him, that journal could vanish in a mere second.
“Hey, it’s only paper you shoved your stupid words into.” Mirror Noel taunted rhetorically before swiping the pen. To rub salt on the wound, a smack would soon follow to slam the book littered with photos on the ground. “Watch, for I will create something beautiful right before your eyes.”
The copy wasted no time with littering his ink onto a blank page of paper. There was no way for Noel to know of such a thing. Those were scarce pages, there are stories to be written! People may still enjoy them, why did the Mirror Noel have to do this!?
Noel couldn’t let this through. Though the electricity in his body attempted to discourage him with increased levels of pain, his fingers found their way to freedom soon enough. But only his fingers, not even the palm felt the urge to move.
“And done! Now~” The copy boasted before he closed his eyes, holding the open journal tightly to his chest. Nothing happened immediately, leaving both of them in silence. Noel’s silence was forced, for he would be fighting for his journal otherwise.
A second passed.
The next second, particles of white light sparkled in front of both of them, approximately a couple of meters away. These weren’t slow to come together, creating the outline of a massive bird. It was obvious considering it was a creature subtly referenced in one of his previous stories. But this was… Fiction. Noel’s reality was fiction.
The outline filled details inside the perimeter. Sharp ruby-colored eyes glaring down towards Noel specifically, fiery orange feathers bringing flames to melt the spirits of those who opposed it. Flames came out of each individual feather, creating a massive blanket of orange that threatened anything that they touched. It is real… It is majestic… It was dangerous.
“You can create your own reality, Winter.”
“Stray away from your role and Mr. Writer will end your reality.”
Not so encouraging.
Care to read a few tales? I just happen to have a few!