/lit/ - Literature

He stopped as the pavement in front him was replaced by two pairs of black dress shoes, obstructing his path. He looked up, curious who could be so ill-mannered as to block his path. Smartly dressed in cheap suits and identified by nametags stood before him two young men. ‘The Followers of Christ’ stated the plastic clip-on tags, followed by their names which Ash had neither the desire nor the patience to read.

“Excuse me sir may we have a moment of your time?” asked the larger of the two. His acne ridden face made Ash want to vomit on him. He realised however that doing so would only serve to lessen his repulsiveness and so decided against it. He wasn’t in the helping mood. He wasn’t in the talking mood either.

“I’m not a sir and I really don’t feel like talking to anybody right now.” Ash said, turning away in an attempt to continue along his previous path.

“I’m sure Jesus can cheer you up! Why don’t you tell us what happened?” said the religious youth, smiling, arms open in a display of approachability.

“Get the fuck out of my face, I am the fucking anti-Christ and I would rather piss on your rotting corpse than listen to your propaganda.” Ash flicked his practically fresh cigarette into the face of the closest one. It hit him squarely on his oily cheek. Fireworks flew as the still-lit ash bounced off his face. Wincing in pain the boy brought his hand up to his cheek. He looked at Ash, anger replacing his previously cheerful expression.

He began to step forwards, fists clenched in anticipation. The other boy, shocked both by what Ash had done and the reaction of his friend, put himself between them. Placing his hands on his enraged partner’s chest he pushed him back, saying a few words of reason in an attempt to calm him.

Ash found this all quite amusing. He did not usually act this way and he was aware of how he had allowed his emotions to dictate his actions but he felt good. His mind seemed clearer after this outburst. He let out a short laugh and turned away in search of further distraction.

He lit up another cigarette as he continued along the pavement. He walked for a while appreciating fury’s afterglow. As his adrenalin level subsided he found himself descending an incline. People littered the road outwardly displaying their disregard for any cars that may have wished to pass. They were different to the people he usually saw, in both dress and manner.

Only now noticing the dark sky he realised that he must have been walking for some time. He suddenly understood why these individuals seemed unfamiliar to him. They were people of the night.
The flickering sound of a neon light caught his attention. He turned his gaze and saw the bright purple lettering: ‘The Gathering’. Why not? He thought.

He greeted the bouncer with a tilt of his head as he stepped inside.

End of prologue.
Thoughts?