Categories > Celebrities > Panic! At The Disco > Bad Luck

Bad Luck

by Wicked_Lovely 3 reviews

Luck didn't exists for the cursed.

Category: Panic! At The Disco - Rating: R - Genres: Drama,Fantasy,Horror - Warnings: [V] - Published: 2011-07-02 - Updated: 2011-07-02 - 2389 words

Fucking owls. They seem to follow me everywhere these days. Maybe it's because of what I am. Or what I can do would probably be a better guess.
I took a long drag on my cigarette, walking down the abandoned road. The owls were there, following my every movement with their creepy ass faces, craning their heads as far as they could. Which was all the way around, making it to where they could stalk my every movement.
The street was damp, the air humid. Clouds covered the sky, reflecting the light from the streetlamps. I caught myself thinking about death again. Every way you could die really. You could bleed to death; Cuts, stabs, sharp objects ripping into your jugular. You could be poisoned; Anthrax, poisons plats, rat poison, drug overdose. You could fall; Off a bridge, a building, out of a plane, a train, a car, or a boat.
The owls continued to make that annoying hooting sound that they make, their feathers rustling when the wind blew. They stalked me like prey. And that wasn't even the worst part about it. Oh no, the worst part was knowing that I was the only one that could see them. That could hear them. And damn, they were annoying.
I'm Ryan, by the way. What is there to say? Oh, I know. I once saw a man split in half because a vine grew inside of his veins, ripping and tearing at his insides. That's the thing about me. I don't normally get to witness normal deaths. When I see deaths, it's nothing like seeing a woman's body simply give up on her, having her heart give out. Oh no, it could NEVER be that simple.
And yet, I deal with death on a daily basis.
When people think about my job, they think of it as a hoax. A joke. A fraud. Or even worse, they think it's just religious. Those are the worst people to deal with.
Don't think I don't do it alone, I have friends that join in some time. But not tonight. They were busy tonight. It infuriated me that they weren't willing to give up a night to do something with me. I could be killed if I didn't get help. And yet, they still skipped out. They left me alone to walk the streets at night, seeing things that weren't there. Or at least, things that weren't there for normal people.
I sighed, walking up to the address that the man over the phone had said. I was somewhat indifferent to doing this one. I raised my fist, knocking on the door. The wood swung open, showing a worried looking man in his late thirties.
"You must be Mr.Davis?" I asked with one raised brow. He nodded, stepping aside to let me in. "This better be good. Today is my only day off." I said as I looked around his house. Nothing was out of the norm, carpet was a normal color, the walls were in tact. Pictures of a happy family littered the place along with furniture that could be found in any normal store. I ran a hand through my hair, trying to stay awake. I hadn't had sleep in three days, and here I was, standing in a perfectly normal home with a man that was at least twice my age and balding. What now?
"It's in the backyard. In the pool to be exact." he seemed like he was hiding behind me as I tried to find my way through his house and out the back door. It was easy, but annoying. The outside was like a scene from a movie. A bright blue pool that looked like a pond surrounded by bushes trees and flowers. I had to admit that it was beautiful and would make an amazing romantic scene. There was a body floating in the pool and I sighed. Was that really the only reason why I was out and about instead of catching up on my sleep?
"I'm sorry, but this is more of case for the police. I don't work with stuff like this." He shook his head, shaking almost. Like he was scared. I rolled my eyes. It was typical behavior and I really wished he would just hurry this along.
"No. That," He raised his hand, pointing at the body that was floating in the pool. "Is my uncle. He died a month ago in that pool. Every night I see him there again, but during the day...He's gone. I've tried calling the cops but all they've done is given me the name of doctors." I groaned a little, tossing a film camera to the man.
"Take pictures." I muttered as I took my jacket and shoes off. I jumped into the pool, knowing that I would have to walk home in wet clothing. Not that I really cared, it wasn't the first case I had like this. I made his way over to the man, the lights from the pool and porch lighting everything dimly. If only I had a little bit more light. I pushed the body over slightly. It was real at least. Fish swam out of the mans mouth. They were long and black, a lot like leaches. I pushed them away from me, not really caring if they attacked or not. I flipped the body over and laughed a little.
The man didn't have a face, just a mouth. There was a slight raise where his nose should be, two cup like shapes where the eyes were. I started to push the body over to the edge of the pool, chills running up and down my body. It wasn't because thick black vines had started to come out of his mouth as much as it was from being submersed in the cold water. The man stepped back. He was an irritating fellow.
"Take pictures." I called again and pushed the body out of the water. The vines started to grow, twisting upwards and out. I stared at them, watching as they kept going up and up and up, wrapping together to make a large tree. The black fish crawled out of the water, turning into something that resembled more of a human shape. Only with large and wide heads, pointed ears and hands. It was odd, but nothing I wasn't used to. They started to dance and climb around the tree.
"What the fuck?" The man stepped back into the siding on the house. Not surprising. "What are those things?" I rolled my eyes once more. I guess I just have a bad attitude when it came to people like this.
"He ingested something he really shouldn't have. You have to let them dance for the night. Tomorrow night it'll be gone." I said as I stood, picking up my jacket.
"I repeat, what the fuck are those things?" He asked in a panicked tone.
"Their his inner demons. Now if you don't mind, I'm going home." I took my camera from him and he nodded. I stood there for the moment with a raised brow. "Are you going to pay me?" I asked.
"I don't know if it's worked yet." He said as he stared at the tree. Another sigh escaped my lips and I pulled a small vile out of my pocket.
"Dump this in the pool." I walked off, deciding that I wasn't going to get paid after all. Not that I did much, the majority of what had happened was child's play. I walked home feeling cold.
The owls continued to follow me, one of them swooping down to the ground at my feet to start pecking at one of the little elfish creatures. It was small enough to fit in the palm of my hand, about the size of a small bird.
"Why did you follow me?" I stared into it's liquid black eyes. It grinned. It's mouth stretching from one large pointed ear to the other. Tiny white fangs started to show. White....It wasn't one of the others. I nodded, allowing it to crawl into my hand as I continued to walk. It melted into my hand slightly, it's tar like skin dripping down onto my soft human flesh. I momentarily wished that the rest of the world could see what I saw on a daily basis, but knew that it was best the way it was.
I walked into the small apartment I shared with Brendon, who had to skip out of tonight. It could have been worse, most nights like tonight have been known to be worse. I put the key into the lock, hearing it clink together. Three men had walked past the door an hour ago, one of them touching the handle with filthy hands. I paused, not wanting to touch the handle. I guess that was reason enough for people to not be like me. It sucked to know what things had been through. I could barley eat any food, I could tell just by looking at it what it had been through. I couldn't talk to people, reading their facial expressions made it easy to tell not only what they were thinking, but what they had done. I used my sleeve to open the handle. Laughter from the kitchen. Spencer giggling to Jon telling him a cheesy joke, Brendon showing off his muscles to a girl named....Breann. How odd.
I dropped my keys in the dish that rested on the small table by the door, hanging my jacket on the one free rack that was always kept clear for it. I slipped my shoes off where they belonged, looking at the small thing in my hand. It gave me another large grin. The corners of it's mouth curling under it's large black eyes that shined like glossy marble. It's fucking fangs seemed almost taunting. I slipped it into my pocket, walking into the kitchen. Spencer was going to comment on me being wet, followed by a remark from Jon about how I was home early.
"Hey Ryro, you're alllllll wet.?" Spencer slurred a little. Bottles of alcohol littered the counters and tables and I wondered if they remembered where the money came from that bought them their drinks. It sure as hell wasn't them working every night and day for the past month.
"And you're dry." I stated as I pulled a bottle of water out of the fridge. I didn't trust the tap, I had seen what was in it's pipes. The first one I grabbed at had the cap put on by someone without gloves, I went to the second one, happy to find that there wasn't anything too wrong with it.
"You're home early today." Jon said with a smile as he pat my back.
"No thanks to you. If you don't mind, I'm going to try and catch up on my sleep." I said as I stretched a little. It wasn't fair that I had to work every day, only get paid half of the time, and have everyone in the apartment drain me of every cent I owned. I guess it was a good thing I didn't eat most of the time. The bimbo was going to ask Brendon who I was. She whispered into his ear.
"Oh, Ryan, this is Breann." I nodded once, giving a small wave before walking out of the room and towards my bedroom. There were no more surprises in life. Actually, there were rarely ones to begin with. It's hard to be surprised when you can read the atmosphere. When you can tell what a person is going to say just by looking at their facial features. When you somehow mange to drift in and out of time without knowing it.
It felt almost like I was there, but no one could see me. I guess a lot like everything I dealt with everyday.
I closed my bedroom door, pulling the small black creature out of my pocket. I found a jar on a shelf, one with small holes at the top. Even if it melted and tried to slip away it couldn't, but it would still have some fresh air. I put the creature in the jar, pouring a little bit of water in at the bottom before screwing the top back on. I put it back onto the shelf to match other glass containers and jars. I lit a candle next to it, and the creature wondered over to the edge of the glass closest to the flame. When had I become such a boring person?
My room had poor lighting, most of the stray rays coming from the glow of the three candles I kept burning, and one light bulb that hung from the ceiling in the corner. There wasn't much in the room, I happened to hate mattresses, so most of the time I just slept on blankets that I covered small parts of the floor with. My room still manged to be crowded with junk. Or at least what looked like junk. Small toys that were falling apart, jars with weird substances in them, small creatures banging on glass as they tried to get my attention. Pictures of different cases covered the walls, most of them too violent for the police. I peeled out of my wet clothing slipping on a new pair of boxers and pants before falling onto the blankets.
A quote manged to fade in and out of my mind as I tried to go to sleep, ignoring the sounds that came from my roommate and his friends. Or I guess I should try and say my friends. It was from the first person I had helped. He was an old farmer, his daughter caught in limbo after committing suicide. Little creatures wreaked havoc on his house each one begging him to help his daughter. After a long fight with some of the little creatures the father told me I was good luck. I always hated that.
Luck didn't exists for the cursed.


I know, another new story. But don't worry, I won't update this one much. And I know it's weird, but most of my stuff is. Not like it's that unusual. Well, not that unusual yet.
-xoxo Pansy.
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