Sketchy pasta

Under the veil of night, with naught the moon to break through the guise of shadows, a lonely figure haunts the quiet streets. Gun shots occasionally pierce the night from time to time, filling the air with the light scent of burnt gunpowder. It hadn't been long ago that the nights were quiet and the gangs had been silenced, but as of late the stupid people had began pointlessly aligning themselves, against each other no less. Crossing near a street light, with no lost to the shadows that surrounded him, a car could be heard barreling down the road. Head lights blasting over the hill, and veering sharply off as the car draws near. It was a common sight, as everyone knew to stay away from the void of light that persisted even under the street lights, the shade that permeated a malice that even the gang leaders cringed away from. The car narrowly manages to get away as he keeps walking aimlessly through the night.

Walking along through the dark windswept streets, he trods alone. winding his way through the city streets, he reaches a familiar path.Its not often that he walks a path again, as his course is ever changing. Walking along, seeing the forest edge, where the figure once stood. The figure, as ever watching and observant as all the times he had seen it before, has stood there, in sight, for longer than normal. He quietly walked towards the figure, having known that he hadn't warranted it's interest that night. He knew something else had been there. Someone had been there. The only person he had come across in his nightly wanders that he had not killed. Instead, he saved her. Still questioning this, he starting walking along the road. Standing in the same blood soaked patch of road as before. Looking up he could see the stars, that shined in the unnaturally dimmed area around him.

With the stars shining around him, he made his way, still remembering the bloody strains of that night, and his own. He had been walking like any other night, as he always had, even before things went dark. Not long ago, he was just a normal kid, an insomniac teen. He liked the night, its calm quiet solitude. He walked the streets, passing under street lights, ducking from car lights. The car lights were never good. Always, they were either the police or a gang. A new gang leader had just come out of the wood works even. They said she was fierce though. She seemed to scare the other gangs. There was always blood, and a lot of it. She seemed to stain the ground she walked on. He seen her one night though. Being called fierce seemed almost contrary, as it wasn't even a long shot to call her beautiful, even when she was covered in blood. He thought he might be weird for thinking that. He heard one night she had given up on her gang. He had went to see if this was true, and it indeed had been. He got caught though, and the unruly gang called him a spy. The gang had tried to kill him, throwing rocks and knives. He ran though, getting hit and cut. One rock hit him in the head though, forcing him to the ground. He looked up, looked into the forest he had so narrowly escaped into. He could see the figure there, in the trees. He could hear the rush of wind, almost like static. He could feel his mind slipping. He could see the dying lights around him. He felt almost tired, but strangely alive and reinvigorated. He started to move again, but seemingly not of his own power. Smiling, he got up. He realized the dying lights weren't him blacking out, but instead the street lights seemed to fade, nearly to nothing. He watched as the gang approached, as they walked into his darkened patch near the forest. Only a few seemed to come close though. They brandished knives, and started to come at him, but he, unflinching, never moved. He was cut, and stabbed, but kept smiling. A few members of the gang had started to run seeing the blood drip down his body, the others grew fearful at his constant smile. The ones attacking him soon stopped, only to be met with laughter, as he started at them. He first took their knives, first cutting their faces, then down their necks, slicing over their ribs just to plunge the knives into each of their chest, letting the blood pour feverishly over his hands. The others watched petrified with fear, as they witnessed the demented deaths. He went slowly, filling his darkened patch with blood, the air thick with the smell. The blood was almost palatable, the taste barely escaping the tip of his tongue, but close enough to make him hunger for it. He finished those in his darkness, their blood pooling around their bodies as they grew cold, and turned to those watching from farther away, smiling devilishly. They, fearfully unnerved, started to run. They ran from the sight of their comrades who were tortured and killed, and from the person that killed them. Smiling, he began to walk from the bodies, the figure in the woods watching the entire time, ever observant. He walked in the same direction that the gang had run in. They were still in sight, and would scream when they looked back and saw him walking. Their screams grew louder as he seemed to get closer, even if he was only walking. He just kept walking towards them, smiling. They ran, until the sun started to slip over horizon. Looking back, they could no longer see him, or the ominous darkness that surrounded him. He had disappeared. He simply vanished from sight, unknown to them, having retreated to a nearby abandoned building. The next night the gang was on alert. He started to walk again, like he always did. He walked, and the shadow that accompanied him was there and even walking under the street lights did nothing to dispel the shadows. He walked to where the gang members had attacked him the night before. He went to where they had died at his hands. He was almost surprised. He didn't find the bodies. There wasn't even police tape that normally surrounded murder scenes. Instead, there on the ground, lay a circle. There was just a circle, with an X through it, where the bodies had been.

Walking around, he slowly drew closer to the forest. He slowly walked into it. This forest had a dark history, darker than the gang laden town. More deaths and disappearances occurred here than seemed even naturally possible. He just walked into the forest, going deeper. Winding around the trees, he soon started to see a mansion after a few minutes. The massive morose manor loomed from the impossibly dark forest, caused in no part by him even. Feeling eyes watching him, he watched the manor, unsure of whether or not light came through the grime caked windows. He smiled his wide, fear inducing smile. He knew the figure was watching him. He could feel it. He could hear it, the static like wind that bellowed around the trees. Walking up, he sat on the front steps, smiling. He thought then. this is probably where to girl had ran. This is where the girl had ran when she ran into the forest, a swath of death following her. He smiled more at this thought. His thoughts of her, of death, of this manor made him smile. It brought him a touch of joy, that had be absent for a long time. He lay back on the steps, feeling tired as the sun started to creep over the city. The sun's light couldn't even pierce the darkness deep in the forest, as he fell asleep on the mansion’s stairs.

He woke up with a start that night. Having fallen asleep on the steps of the mansion, he expected to wake up there. Instead, he woke up in a bed, with dust hanging heavily in the air. He was moved while he slept. Normally people don't even approach him, yet someone went as far as to move him. Getting up from the bed, he realized that his coat had been taken off him, and instead hung on a coat rack near the door of the room. He went to retrieve his coat and examined the room. There was a fine layer of dust, but clearly the had been cleaned only a few days ago. He grabbed his coat throwing it on.While standing there he heard a soft sound. He knew it was unmistakably the sound of a person's foot falls. He took off towards the window, quickly throwing it open. He lept out as the door to the room he had been in creaked open. Landing with a hard thud, having jumped from the third story, he ran through the forest, as a figure, barely discernibly female, had shown up in the window, watching him flee. He ran until the mansion had vanished into the forest behind him. The city soon loomed before him, as he came charging from the forest, ramming into the guy who had been walking past. Having been swallowed within the swirls of shadows the man gave out a scream that made the cats howl and blood curdle. Placing a hand over the man’s mouth, a smile spread across his face as he quickly flung his hand to the side, drawing the man’s chin in the same direction with enough force for a rippling crack to be heard and echo back into the forest. He got up and stepped away from the now still man on the ground. He returned to the streets, where no one would approach him, for fear of death, leaving the mansion behind, and the onlooking girl.