Epilogue

The night sky turned dark and ill as the sun set in the distance. Magic hour had finally come to an end. The first quarter of the moon turned scarlet red with its iridescent glow matching the sky at the horizon. Indigo, blue, blue-green, orange, yellow, and red each mixed fluidly with each other, painting the sky like magic. There were colors that are rarely seen, mixing harmoniously. They became darker and darker, turning into black.

Dark-gray angry clouds rolled in. Lightning flashed in the distance. The beautiful night lights of the city of Atlanta illuminated the dark streets. Drivers honked their horns angrily, passing one another, trying to hurry home. People quickly walked towards their apartments and cars. They rushed to hide from the threat of the coming rain.

Loud, joyful laughter came from the kids and adults enjoying themselves at the Centennial Olympic park. Sprays of cold water sprouted out from the holes of the Olympic rings, and the children rushed through the water spray. Thousands of people from all ethnicities and social circles came out to enjoy the night life of the city.

Blocks away, a high-class hotel skyscraper overshadowed the other buildings. On the top floor of the hotel, the outer portion of the floor spun slowly in three hundred sixty degrees. It constantly rotated, making a full rotation every thirty minutes. It was a place where lovers and couples could join and watch the beautiful night. Many couples dressed up sharp and clean. They ate at tables with crisp white table cloths and sparkling silver cutlery. The soft clinking sounds of forks on dinner plates could be heard from the second floor that was directly over the dining area.

The second floor was an open area for people who wanted to sit in the rotating bar without having to make a reservation in the restaurant. Customers could look down at the people in the dining room or look out of the glass windows into the city. The sweet aroma of basil swept through the restaurant, and its dim light created a mesmerizing atmosphere.

Soft murmurs of people talking amongst themselves could be heard while the live jazz band continued to play. They played songs one after another next to the bar, while the waiters carried alcoholic drinks to their customers.

A lone gentleman sat on the top floor of the lounge. His light brown hair was slicked to the side with gel. A silver cross necklace hung around his neck, while the long sleeves of his red collared shirt were neatly rolled back. His black jeans were slightly loose. His gray eyes glowed under the moonlight that highlighted his chiseled face. There was no stubble to be seen. His black leather gloves sat folded neatly on the black table.

A loud tweet sounded off from his phone, signaling an incoming call. He reached down and took the phone from his pocket.

“Hello?”

A loud blaring sound went off. He pulled the phone away from his ears. He hated how his phone acted oddly at times.

“Fallen Angel. This is TigerOne speaking. Begin operation Mother’s Love. Let the mother join the child and deconstruct the family dynasty,” said a stern male voice.

The phone disconnected just as quickly as the message was over.

Fallen Angel smiled as he tucked his phone back into his pocket. Gently he picked up his glass of apple juice he had been slowly sipping throughout the hour. He patiently waited while the designated meeting time drew near. While he was drinking, his glass shook. His left hand started to twitch uncontrollably. Quickly, with his other hand, he steadied the glass and placed it back on the table. It was a spasm he couldn’t control.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

As the spasm subsided, he sighed with relief. He didn’t have any spare clothes to wear, so it was lucky that he didn’t spill his drink. As he settled back comfortably onto his chair, the lights began to flicker.

He looked out the window and noticed all the lights in the city blacking out one by one. It was as if a wave of darkness was encroaching upon and enveloping the city. Fallen Angel leaned back without any care. Loud murmurs were heard throughout the bar and the restaurant. The guests and workers alike shouted with unease when the lights above them flickered out. The jazz music abruptly stopped, and the players looked around worriedly. Only moonlight brightly lit up the dark room.

As he sat comfortably, out of the corner of his eyes something caught his attention. In that brief moment he saw a shadowy figure darting quickly from left to right next to the glass window. He felt uneasy. His skin crawled and he could feel the goosebumps moving down his arms.

A young woman’s frightful scream echoed through the restaurant. Throughout the room, the sounds of clattering silverware could be heard as they fell to the ground.

A foul odor permeated his nose. It reminded him of rotten eggs. The temperature around him dropped, causing him to shiver. He exhaled and could see a wisp of cold air escape his mouth.

The gentleman felt a sharp tug on his soul, darkness encroaching around him. He was not a man to fear death, but nonetheless he was leery. Something was here. He did not know what, but he knew. It was large, heavy, and seemed almost human. It breathed its icy breath down his back.

He shivered. He could not turn nor give it acknowledgement. He could only wait patiently until it passed.

With every breath, every sniff, every touch it gave, he felt cold shivers run up his spine. He could feel it even though he could not see what it was. He knew now it would not pass. He waited for death. He loved it. In actuality, he welcomed it.

An excruciatingly sharp pain was felt at the back of his neck. Just as quickly as the pain came, it disappeared. Red blood dripped and swirled into a black tattoo shaped like a droplet.

In a wisp of smoke the being vanished into thin air and the temperature rose back to its toasty warmth. The lights flickered on. The whole city bustled back to life. Blinded by the sudden light, the gentleman shielded his eyes. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust back into focus.

He looked around, but nothing was there. As he reached his hand towards his neck, he felt a slightly sticky liquid. Drawing his hands back in front of his face, he saw a smear of blood on his fingertips. It glistened like ruby jewels. He examined it with interest under the light.

His heartbeat slowly rose with excitement as his face flushed pink. With a sudden jolt, his left hand began to shake uncontrollably. Blood. The jewel of life. How he loved to see it drip in his hands. Even the sight of his own blood excited him. In him arose a craving to destroy that he could not stop, but instead he embraced. His soul darkened with glee. His gray eyes turned dark and cloudy. He was ready. He could not hold himself back any longer.

Biting the corner of his lips, he transferred his excitement to the pain. He knew what he needed to do.

My new masterpiece is calling me. He smiled as he rose. Slowly walking toward the exit, he began to whistle a sweet lullaby, his left hand still slightly twitching.