Quote:
While making your way through Destiny City, you wind up taking a path you’ve never taken before. Maybe you’re following directions, maybe you got lost, maybe you were just looking for a shortcut—things were going good, until you wind up needing to pass through a graveyard. It seems normal enough—until you pass by a grave and get powerful chill down your spine. When you stop and look at it, you see the gravestone has your name; beneath it, your birthday and today’s date. If you leave and return, the gravestone remains, but the name and dates look like they’ve been clawed off.
When reading, it is important one looks up on occasion to be sure they have not spent the better part of their day reading and not just you know, flouncing about their daily tasks to indulge and immerse themselves in another world created by an author as a form of expression or an escape from the overly taxing reality that was and is. Sadly, no one had really informed Dorian really of this particular nugget of knowledge, and so when he’d started reading at the library that day, he’d only planned to stay a few hours at most. Maybe 5 at best. Certainly not the entirety of the day lost to a world of sea faring men determined to navigate the waters of the Atlantic and later fight off a lost Viking horde in the Bermuda triangle, (fiction was an utter delight. All things were possible. Just like what senshi magic could do- make the impossible possible. Bending reality to suit the wielder’s whims).
Yet he’d fallen into a trap of his own creation. Like Mary Shelly’s Victor to Frankenstein’s monster, what he had created had taken on a life of it’s own and would be his own downfall. His own craving to know the ending had kept him at the public library all until closing at which point a very worn down looking public servant by the name of ‘Harris’ whom Dorian rather liked because they smelled of potpourri and let him keep his spot on the window bench and didn’t ask him to move just because some kids couldn’t get a dang wi fi signal elsewhere in the older building. It was late now, the color of the sun having long since faded from the late autumn skyline and now the dark somber grey black of light plagued with light drowning of the city’s own artificial illumination. There was an actual term for such a word, but as Dorian bunded himself up, he couldn’t recall it for the life of him. But, he did know that I meant that he’d have no stars to look at in the night sky. Such was the price of living in the city itself or near it.
The cold air at his back, he followed his usual route home, only frowning when he discovered a few blocks away that there was a detour to be had on the sidewalk as the city worked on expanding the roadway. An inconvenience at best, he could henshin and simply jump across, wasting power and risking a fight, or, he could enjoy himself and walk on a new path he’d never been on before. Choosing a new path, he didn’t think to google it, just thinking to stay to the left and he’d be fine. Well, ten minutes later he was not fine. He was in a graveyard, staring down at a gravestone that bared his name and the date of his death being that self same day. Dorian blinked, and turned about to walk briskly the way he’d come. He knew what happened if he stayed.
He was no protagonist white boy in a horror film after all.
