Chapter 4: Chapter 4: Edge 4:4

"You've got to be kidding me!" I yelled at no one in particular as I navigated through bodies, stalls, carts that held strange liquids, food, and ornaments. You named it. "Just my ass-end of luck!"

My luck was on the same level as being born the ass-end of a worm. 

The growling never ceased behind me. In fact, the longer I ran, the louder and more aggravated it sounded. 

I could not fathom what it even wanted with me. Of all the times I'd run into one of those doggy creepsters in my world, it had always ignored me. Continued its business of hunting and eating spirits of deceased humans that sometimes littered the streets on random, inconsistent nights. 

And tore them apart.

But one of those damned ass-munching dogs was after me!

Maybe it thought the horns on my head were bones for it to eat!?

Whatever the case, I wasn’t planning on sticking around and finding out. One was after me. I didn't need to know the details of why. All that mattered was getting the hell away from it!

Maybe that boar-thing had something to do with it.

Then again, maybe this dog was following orders from another source. A source with porcupine quills for hair . . .

I hoped it wasn't the latter.

Taking the corner at Wilson's antique store and Joe's barber shop, I raced down the roadway while haphazardly bypassing bodies and stalls of food and trinkets along the way. With my blue energy pumping through my legs, everything around me was one big blur. Fatigue wasn't an issue for me. At least, not in the physical sense. Running for a long period never bothered me. 

However, running away from something was an entirely different matter. 

Jumping over a group of people huddled around colorful powders laid out over a burgundy blanket, I kept running and ignored the wide-eyed stares from the colorful human-like people who looked like they were trading dyed cocaine. I had to keep running, keep moving, too afraid to look back and see the menacing red eyes of the spirit eating dog right on my tail.

It wasn't until I got to the end of the street that the unexpected happened.

Some ass-for-brains tripped me. 

The last thing I saw before I felt a tug near my ankle and then the concrete street heading straight for my face was a pale white face with whiskers and eyes encompassed in blue.

Before my hands could stop my fall, I was jerked forward by my shoulder, where I landed heavily on my face and stomach. Feeling sudden pain radiating from my shoulder, I cried out and clawed at the ground to get back up, but the weight on my back and the growling in my ear had my heart racing in a panic that I had never experienced before, more so than the panic I felt when the boar creature captured me only minutes prior.

I'd gone through a lot of shit in the past short years, seeing things that shouldn't be there and learning that no one would believe me when I freaked out over them, but this was on a different level. This was the first time, ever, where I felt full-blown terror.

When the jaw on my shoulder tightened and twisted, sinking the teeth through my jacket and into my skin, I screamed. Loudly.

"Get off, get off, GET OFF!" I chanted repeatedly as I tried to crawl away from the bone-masked dog, and when that didn't work, tried to push against its mask, finding, in my panic, I couldn't do a lot to get it off me. 

I was so scared and so frightened that I couldn't think straight. Everything that happened in the last hour was too much for my ten-year-old self to take in. To comprehend. 

No one was helping me. Everyone stayed a safe distance away, circling around me to watch the spectacle, but did not try to help me.

Is this normal?

Is this what I should expect from strangers?

Why do they only watch?

Is it because I have horns now? Or because I am human?

Tears streamed down my face as I sobbed. Pleaded. Begged.

I hated crying, even more so than puking.

But I was terrified. Frantic. Confused. 

I wanted to go home. 

I wanted to find that fluffy bastard and kill it. 

I wanted to curl up in bed and forget any of this had ever happened.

I wanted to live.

I. Want. To. Live.

“Please, please, please let me go! LET ME GO! PLEASE!” I cried, clawing at the boney mask-face, feeling tears and snot running down my face as the fear overtook everything that was me.

Then, more pain blossomed in my left ankle. When I tried to pull my leg up, all I felt was resistance and agony. Craning my head to look back in the bit of space I had to move, I saw yet another spirit-eating dog biting at my ankle and pulling at it from behind, not in a to-tear-it-off kind of pull, but pulling in a way to drag me off somewhere.

It was all too much for me to handle.

That was my breaking point. My emotions went haywire. I was almost certain I blacked out from all the strain and anxiety I had to endure, because one moment I was crying hysterically and pleading for it all to stop, and the next, a flash of blue encompassed everything around me, bringing with it a jolt of numbing pain throughout my entire body.

My superpowers had reacted to my distress, exploding from me without my consent and attacking anything it touched, including myself.

In that short instance, loud whining followed that explosion, and the weight from my back lifted off me.

Despite the explosive episode, my blood was still pumping fast with fear. The pain of my energy erupting from my body without my consent was in the back of my mind when I stood up and made a break for it. My powers were still thrumming over my skin and using that energy, I jumped up and grabbed onto a windowsill on the nearest building closest to me on the street. I knew vaguely that this building belonged to Jeff's comic book store as I scaled up the side, centering my powers to my palms and to the soles of my feet, so my grip stayed sure and true. Something I could do with little thought.

It didn't take long for me to scale up the four story building. But when I made it to the top and released my energy, I collapsed, hard, on part of the roof that was flat. I let out a wheeze of air when I hit the floor below, feeling pain and complete and utter fatigue wreak over my body. 

That was it. I had nothing left. The blast from before did a number on me and I didn't want to think about the bedrest I would have to endure in the coming days. 

Pain radiated from every part of my body. And this pain was far worse than the last time my energy levels decided they wanted to take a shit on me when they had first appeared and I hadn't known how to control them.

And I was still crying. Balling and snotting and waiting for the pain to finally recede from my limbs enough so I could regain my bearings again.

But my damn reprieve only lasted a minute, because soon enough, I heard two thumps from behind me and growling following soon after. 

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Like I said before: my luck was on the same level as being born the ass-end of a worm.

I felt it again, that static feeling rolling over my skin. As soon as the first one saw me, it lunged for me, not giving me a moment to catch my breath. Rolling to my right and using the very last ounce of energy I didn't even know I could muster, I pushed my foot into the ground and slid across the rooftop to the other end until my back hit the little ledge that led down toward the alleyway below. 

I no longer had the energy to lift my arms. The little burst I had seconds ago was all of my reserves. I've never felt this much fatigued in my entire life.

I could fall asleep right here if I wasn't about to die.

There was nothing I could do to stop them now. If they so choose to chew my throat out, they could do just that without their prey fighting back.

And it was like they knew this. Both of their eerie red eyes stared at me from across the roof, but they did not lunge at me like before. Ever so slowly, they stalked towards me. Their growling never ceasing, only increasing in volume as they drew nearer, their eyes never moving from their target. 

And all I could do was watch them move ever closer, tears streaking down my cheeks.

I was going to die.

I was going to die, and I couldn't even fight back.

And I was going to die alone.

Never alone.

But I was alone. Alone to deal with a situation I had no control over and in reach of others who refuse to help. If I had the energy, I would be hysterically laughing. It was all ironic, really. Fate had a cruel sense of humor. 

This was it.

Here I die.

Of course, it ends like this.

But before they even got halfway across the building, Fate decided to shit out a deus ex machina by having something, or more appropriately, someone, literally fall from the sky and land directly between me and the dogs. And when it landed, a flash of yellow light encompassed the area, blinding me and silencing everything around us.

When the light receded just as quickly as it appeared, I blinked the stars from my eyes and looked ahead. There stood a man. His back was facing me and past him I didn't see the dog creatures anymore. The man's hand was extended forward, but slowly he brought it down back to his side. He paused, his head ever so slightly moved from side to side as he scanned the area, and when he seemed satisfied, he finally turned toward me.

He was human. And old. His clothes were normal, wearing a white t-shirt that contrasted with his dark brown skin and simple blue jeans, and when he was fully facing me, his eyes were the same color grey as his hair. He looked seventy. Wrinkles littered his hairy face, dropping in places I didn't know they could drop. But his body was on the more muscle side of lean, conflicting with his old wrinkly face. 

His eyes held a deep-set glare, and they were directed at no one other than myself.

When I opened my mouth to ask if he was human, because despite looking human, I couldn't be too sure, but all that came out was a pained and drawn-out groan. 

I didn't even have the energy to move my lips.

“You shouldn't try to speak"--the old man began as he made his way over toward me. Even his voice sounded old and raspy and deep--”you've used up all of your Sol. If you weave anymore, you will most surely die.”

Does he think this knowledge was going to spring out of my ass and enlighten me in whatever shit was spewing out of his mouth? Not going to happen. My shit stays in my ass and only comes out when I want it to. Preferably over a toilet, but we can't always be picky.

God, I was tired.

When I opened my mouth again to speak, he had finally reached where I laid near the edge of the building top, and when he saw I was trying to speak again, he scowled. 

“Do you have a death wish, child? Or are you just that dumb?” He knelt on one knee in front of me, his scowl still ever present. “The only conclusion that comes to mind for such stupidity is a death wish. But the way you acted earlier tells a different story. Who, out of their right mind, would enter the Veil with their horns visible? You should always hide your horns from this world.” He flicked my horns with his right hand as he scolded me over something I didn't understand. 

He reached forward and gripped one of my horns, and with it, a cooling sensation encompassed my forehead and ran down my spine, like a trickle of refreshing water.

Another odd sensation to add to the ever-growing list.

God, I just wanted today to end.

But suddenly, I could take in a deep breath, and with that breath, I could feel my body again fully.

And with that feeling, the pain came back, too. Not as bad as before, granted, but pain nonetheless. Enough so that I regained the feeling in my arms to push his hand away. 

“I've given you enough of my own Sol to help you back to the material realm. But you will be bedridden for a week. Who is your teacher and why are you here alone? Are you a runaway?”

"W-what are you talking about?" I croaked, probably sounding like that frog creature I first saw when I got there.

“Your master then? The one who taught you to weave your Sol?”

"Master? Soul? I don't know what the hell you're talkin' about!" My irritation was palpable in my voice, but then I remembered how he had saved me. If it wasn't for him, I'd be dead. 

“Um,” I began again, lifting myself up, so I was now sitting. “T-thank you. For saving me . . . And all that.”

Saying thank you was hard.

I simply did not have it in me to show any gratitude. But I was grateful. Too bad I didn't know how to show it without feeling like a fish out of water. 

Sarcasm was easier.

The old man didn't reply right away. His eyes roamed over my face like he was looking for something resembling applesauce or something, and I couldn't help but look away from embarrassment. What if I had applesauce on my face? Usually, I wouldn't care, but this old fart was making me care at that moment.

“I see,” was his simple answer to whatever conclusion he had come to, “and you're welcome.”

He reached out again and placed his palm on my shoulder. When he gripped it tightly, I couldn't help but tense up.

“What is your name?” 

His eyes did not leave mine when he waited for my reply, and still feeling gratitude for being saved from a more-than-likely terrible death, I answered him truthfully with no forethought, “Ash. Ash Dalloway.”

And then he pushed me over the edge, and for the second time that day, I fell.

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