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Mahogany had not done anything differently on his way home that day. It had been a routine walk out to get a decaf latte before he went to bed and then another routine walk back home. He hadn't even had his phone out nor had he been daydreaming. There was literally no reason for anything to be happening that was out of the ordinary. That was why, when Mahogany turned a corner and was not met with a familiar row of buildings but instead was faced with an entirely new set of facades, he stopped and took careful account of the situation. There was a long silent moment where he stood, brows knitted into a tight, irritated line above his eyes, before he muttered, "******** this city," and went about his way.

Mahogany pulled out his phone and woke the screen up. No biggie. He was a connected and social youth. All he had to do was open up the maps app and make his way home. Oh, or a taxi app to hire some wheels to get him home. That sounded like a way better idea. After all, this was a decaf late and it was time for him to be getting to bed. Didn't want to end up with unsightly circles under his eyes. He tired the maps app first, thinking that he couldn't be far. The buildings didn't look too different from the buildings by where he lived. The only issue was that when he punched the maps app, a game opened up. He closed it out with an irritated huff and tried again. That same game opened. Again, Mahogany closed the game out and tried again. Same ******** this city."

He tried the taxi app instead. Only to have his calendar open up instead. He didn't even bother to try again. He knew what would happen, and he knew why. It was this ******** city with it's ******** terror attacks and it's weird a** issues and everything that was wrong with ********. This. City," Mahogany grumbled, shoving his phone back into his pocket and continuing in his merry way. At least there was a moon out that was bright enough to see by. At least he wasn't flying blind. In the end, however, it was little comfort when set up against the fact that Mahogany had no idea where he was, where he was going, or which way he should turn to get home again. It wasn't fear that bubbled up in his chest as he wandered, but something more like frustration, but more frantic. And not panic. Something else. Mahogany didn't have a name for it, but he felt it. It was like something fluttered up to the top of his throat and made it difficult to breathe through the sensation of it's wings. Like the feeling of trying to pull a shirt over wet skin.

Mahogany walked faster with the feeling of it. He turned corners more sharply. Eventually the world had to make sense again. Something had to happen. Or else he would wander until morning and when the world woke up he could get help. So he walked and turned. Walked and turn. He walked and turned with a final, fed-up growl right into a small cemetery. Mahogany blinked several times before he ignored every lesson that he'd learned from watching horror movies and entered the graveyard. He didn't notice the way the wind died down when he entered, nor did he notice the way the night fell silent and the stars blinked out above him. He only saw one large, pristine tombstone sitting int he center of ruined marble, jutting out of the ground like a maw of broken teeth. He was drawn to the marker, pulled by a chord he could not see to cut.

It wasn't until he was standing before the stone that he realized why.

Mahogany Shapour -- 2001 - 2017
Beloved Son and Brother

Mahogany wasn't sure when he'd started screaming.