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Day Seven: As you walk around town, you start to notice that people seem different. Faces you used to remember have been swallowed by shadows; you may 'know' the person by a feeling, but their face is completely masked in deep black shadow. Their voice is unfamiliar, and its clear to you that something is wrong, but no sense of logic can explain this. Shadows seem to be replacing people around you--associates, neighbors, maybe even friends or family members. Even if they act completely normal, you are left with an unsettling feeling. The shadow impostors seem to come and go, but you never feel safe anymore. Something from the shadows is always watching.
Myles was used to oddities in Destiny City, and towards the end of the year he always knew that things tended to pick up. Usually for the worst. He had done a good job so far and hadn't let it put a damper on his Holiday spirit, but given how everything else had gone so far—not just this year, but last year, and the year before—he was trying to be more mindful.
Trying.
Not really succeeding. But trying.
He had been thoroughly shaken after his experience with the shadows; he’d had to shamefully wait out at the police station while he waited for someone to show up. Derryl had been out on a call and Myles had been so worried that Jeremy was still mad at him that he hadn’t even tried to call him.
The people at the station knew him well enough to let him sit in the lobby and twiddle his thumbs nervously while he tried to build up the nerve to leave, or call Jeremy, or just wait for Derryl.
In the end, Jeremy had shown up anyway, scowl on his face and hands shoved into his pockets. And yet, he’d come with comfort food and some treats Myles knew he must have gotten from the convenience store down the street. Whatever fight they’d had was forgotten, and Myles went home without a complaint.
Still, it had remained in his head that he really should have thanked the officers at the station. Truthfully, he knew that one of them must have called his brother to summon him. Jeremy had often complained that the office was corrupt but he hadn’t ever given names or more than vague warnings about what o avoid. Myles was trusting, but he heeded his brother’s words as best as he could.
He didn’t think a tray of freshly baked cookies could be taken the wrong way though, and had returned to the station to offer them as thanks a few days after his scare.
He had gone when it was still early, when the shadows hadn’t had much time to grow. They were still ominous and he had hurried through them to reach the station. When he arrived without any difficulty, he had thought it would be a relief. Instead, he opened the door to an office that held a few faces he recognizes.
A few of them didn’t have faces at all. He bristled, wondering if it was a prank at first—it was the season, of course—but as he entered further his dread only increased.
He made his way to the counter only to be greeted by a face he should have recognized—and yet, something was off. He’d spoken with the receptionist dozens of times.
She greeted him, she knew his name. She asked how he was doing.
Sheepishly, glancing around and waiting for someone to yell that it was a prank, he had answered that he was doing fine. “I brought cookies for everyone,” he said. “Ah...because you’re all always so nice to me. And i just. I really appreciate it. I know you cant accept gifts from strangers! But i hope I’m not a stranger. Ah...if you dont want to eat it, you can just give it to Jeremy, though.”
Her face didnt change the entire time he was speaking to her, and when it did finally move it was so unnatural that he had goosebumps prickling along his flesh.
There were a few other faces in the office that had the same oddities—the same strange darkness across their faces. His eyes locked on a few of the other officers, whose dark, dead expressions felt like they were boring into him.
His entire body was filled with dread, and the receptionist still hadn't replied.
He swallowed and jerked his head back to her, forcing a smile. “Anyway, I have to run a few errands. I need to head out. Uhm. So just, thank you again!” He said quickly.
The tray was abandoned on the counter and he had to force himself not to stare at the strange, shadow shells of people he knew he should recognize. He knew the names on their tags. He knew them.
This...didn't feel like them.
And, once again, he found himself desperate to be with someone who made him feel safe—someone who could reassure him that he wasn’t
Crazy.
Someone who had a face.
He waved a quick goodbye and had to stomach the cold dread that flooded through him.
...He wasn’t going outside again. He was going to go home and go right back to bed.
Or, maybe curl into Jeremy’s. Just to make sure he was okay.
