Predatory Puddles (11) : Summer rains aren’t uncommon, so finding puddles dotting your path isn’t in itself particularly surprising or abnormal. However, as you walk past them, you feel the sensation of being watched, like eyes are on you. If you look into the puddles, you don’t see your reflection--nor the reflection of anything familiar to you. Instead, you see strange, decayed buildings, and odd, rotting plants. Something is watching you through the puddles, but before you can investigate, between one blink and the next, it’s all gone. When you look back, the puddles are oddly non-reflective, and then in the next blink, they’re all gone. The feeling of being watched doesn’t fade, though.
Staurolite grumbled quietly to himself as he walked one of his usual patrol routes. There were puddles everywhere from the recent summer showers, and he wasn’t much enjoying the mix of heat and humidity. He was sweaty, the air was gross, and his clothes stuck to him and it was just…unpleasant. So why was he out?
He didn’t want to shirk his responsibilities as an agent just because of the weather.
“Damn responsibilities,” he grumbled, then kicked one of the puddles as though that would get rid of it or fix the weather.
The lieutenant walked on, hands in his pockets as he monitored the area for Order signatures or otherwise suspicious activity. Suspicious in the sense that maybe there was a bad guy he could drain or something. As much as he wanted to be responsible, he also didn’t fancy the idea of draining the more innocent civilians. Only if he was desperate to meet a quota, which he wasn’t. So he picked the “bad” guys–robbers, gang members, bullies, or other such types. He considered it as fulfilling some kind of karmic duty.
It felt extra quiet tonight, though, so all he could really focus on was the puddles. There were an awful lot in the alley he just ducked into. And maybe it was the alley, but as he made his way through he couldn’t help but feel like there were eyes on him.
He walked carefully, avoiding all the puddles while at the same time keeping his head on a swivel. No matter how many times he looked around, though, there was no one else there. He was perfectly alone with the puddles.
“The puddles?”
He looked down at one nearby and recalled some story he read about dimensional windows. Mirrors, namely, but why not puddles? A closer look and he noticed that he didn’t see himself, but rather saw some old buildings and dying plants. It reminded him of that building-turned-garden that he saw while pounding the pavement of Destiny City during the scavenger hunt.
The thought sent a shiver up his spine and he quickened his pace.
If it was a window, who knew what was on the other side? He really, really didn’t want to find out. God forbid something sticks its hands out from inside one of these things.
He walked faster still, his eyes still on the puddles he passed. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something was watching, waiting. When he couldn’t stand it anymore, he gripped his slingshot and, just before exiting the alley, turned suddenly and took aim.
But he froze in that pose, because the last thing he expected was for all of the puddles, every single drop, to be gone.
The alley was dry. It was empty. He was perfectly alone.
There was no way he could have imagined all of those puddles, yet no matter how long he looked, no matter how many times he closed his eyes and opened them again, the puddles were just…gone. It didn’t make sense, and as curious as he was he had a good feeling he didn’t really want to know how or why they were suddenly gone.
Slowly he lowered his weapon, took one last good look around, then turned around and headed home at a run.
548 (gdocs)
