Children of The Night

Lost and Found

I tried, something sweeter. But I kinda dislike this, so be nice loversofthelost_

***

This seemed an appropriate way to be buried. 

Like vines, wrapping around her throat, words flooded her lungs, as she drowned in a chorus of love.

Now standing ashore, she felt her legs give way beneath her, this had to be a joke, a trick — Amara scoffed, she didn't find this amusing, especially not for their first meeting after so many years, not as friends, but as something so much more.

The chorus started again, softer now, just out of reach. A gentle hum carried in the wind. Her hold on the letter tightened, while she stared up at the vacant house.

She glanced down.

'Beloved Amara,
I'm touched you'd come to see me, choosing me over having fun with your classmates. I still think you shouldn't. It's your final year. Oh well, I've long learnt it's a losing game with you. You're lucky I've stuck by so long, even with your stubbornness, I'm stubborn too — look at that, I'm rambling again, don't mind me, where was I? Oh yes, my address is on the back, come find me soon.

I'm happy you chose to, chose me. I'll hold tight to your gift till you arrive.
—Yours, Isla.'

Find me she says.

How was she meant to do that, when the house she stands before has been vacant since she moved? She was a child the last time she walked through those doors. The signs of vacancy shone through, as bright as the moon overhead. An aged house: with rusted gates, a home left unattended, wilting gardens, no signs of life, not a single window lit.

Find Me.

Isla was right, she is stubborn. She may regret this, but this was her home, she couldn't leave.

The gate fell back with a loud creak, opening up for her, groaning in pain, as she walked in, the sound loud enough to ring in her head.

The front door was locked. She was positive this was a trick. She didn't have the key, there was no way Isla did. Isla wants to play? Amara would gladly play.

They were open books to each other.

She journeyed back around the house, trying to imagine what it looked like before, to no avail. None of the memories came back, maybe it was too dark, but she could hardly remember what the house had looked like when it had been lived in.

She knew the backyard seemed larger, and she wasn't someone who enjoyed walking about aimlessly, hopefully, this game would end soon. Exhaling deeply she broke the silence, until another sound jumped in.

"Someone's lost," the voice called out, spearing the ground with the scythe's blade.

A locked house. For over 12 years. Now, before her, stood a figure, wearing a pumpkin head, leaning against their weapon.

"You're—"

"Trick or treating. And what are you doing here?"

Trespassing. Did she have a right to say that?

"But, no one lives here, you can't."

The figure tilted their head, staring at her, cold, piercing eyes cut through her.

"That's why you give them tricks, it's fun."

"For who?"

The figure hummed, lifting the scythe off the ground. The blade, dirtied with soil that seemed to run down, drops falling on their hand, the darkest of reds she'd ever seen.