Fires arose around him as he saw his tiny, once warm, energetic community turn into ashes and fires, almost like they were starting an uprising. The little boy lay helpless, the unbearable pain radiating through him as the heat of the flames threatened to swallow him whole.

A blue-like blur with the face of what could only be described as bright, beaming rays towered over and practically blinded him. The blur stuck his hand in the boy’s wound, rapidly twisting his hand so it created a guttural crunch that echoed in the boy’s head.

He bloodily screamed, almost shredding his vocal cords apart as he jolted wide awake. As he returned to the land of the living, reflecting on his recurring nightmare, he grunted in frustration.

“I hate when I have that nightmare,” he mumbled as he ran his hand over the clothed, now-healed scar on the side of his body and flinched, almost as if the pain still lingered from the gut-wrenching dream.

Although exhausted from his mind’s nightly tricks, the man rolled out of bed and headed to his bathroom. He quickly washed his face, then reflected on his tired expression, “It could be worse..” he mumbled as he pulled his attention away from the mirror.

He then shed his clothes and walked over to the shower before getting in. The night before, he had just moved into his new apartment, let alone a new city miles away from home. Being on his own and of his own volition was, and still is, a concept that was utterly foreign to him.

As the minutes quickly passed, he eventually stepped out of the shower and speedily got ready. “I gotta pick up my stuff from Ikeared..” He thought as he got ready, mentally listing the things he needed to get to make his place a home.

As he finished getting ready, he gave himself a quick check in the mirror before effortlessly grabbing his keys and heading for the door.

As the cool breeze hit his skin, he took a minute to shut his eyes and engross himself completely in the air that gently reminded him that wintertime was near. As quickly as the moment came, he snapped out of it as he remembered he had no time to waste.

The man quickly paced to his car and hopped in, tossing his tote bag in the passenger seat in a near fluid motion. He rested his hands on the steering wheel, mentally rehearsing his actions as if they’re stage directions.

“I hope I don’t fuck this up..” he whispered to himself in a low, seemingly anxiety-ridden tone, praying to any god that heads his desperate pleas that he didn’t awkwardly freeze up.

His memories flashed back to all of the embarrassing moments where he tried to speak his mind, yet nothing came out. He thought of all the peering eyes that seemed to swallow him entirely; ridiculing him on how every time he froze up, he’d miss something. He sighed and tried to push his racing thoughts aside as he cranked the car, turned the radio up, and started his drive to iKeared.

As he drove, his mind relaxed and he couldn’t help but reflect on how exciting it was to be on his own finally... then how jarring it is as well.

On one hand, he felt ecstatic, knowing that he could do whatever he wanted without anybody nagging or stopping him. But on the other hand, he feared being alone, more than the judgement of others.

He always studied the way people spoke, and how easily they let the words roll from their tongues. Though, no matter how much he studied, he always ended up more envious than before.

Before he realized it, he had arrived at the furniture store, breaking himself out of autopilot as he parked.

Before he stepped out, he took a deep breath and mentally prepared for what awaited. As he started walking towards the entrance, something wasn’t settling with him, but he assumed it was his mind plotting against him and pushed it down for now.

The strong, eerily cold stream of air from the AC unit hit him, yanking him out of his thoughts again as he remembered what he was there for.

He tensely cruised through the furniture store’s bustling halls, each gaze he met sending a strike of weariness down his spine. “Is someone paying attention to me?” he nervously thought as his eyes made contact with a little girl and her mom.

He then glanced up, “Where’s the pickup desk…” He thought for a moment as his eyes jumped around, trying to figure out where it could be. He eventually spotted the ‘PICKUP’ sign in huge bold letters, and escorted himself to it.

As he got closer, he noticed the long line and quietly sighed as he joined the line. As he waited, he put his earbuds in to ease his nerves and looked through SloGram to pass the time.

On his timeline, he came across a detailed, custom-made sword with a platinum finish . “I wish I had a sword that cool… I’d name it Beetle or something silly like that... But god knows if I can even afford a sword that sick,” He thought, fantasizing about all he could do with just a simple sword, but it’s not as if he could use it anyway. After all, what’s good about a guard dog that doesn’t bite?

Remembering where he was; he looked up and noticed he was about to be next in line. He quickly pulled up the order‘s receipt on his phone. After the person in front of him went their way, he paused his music and stepped up, readily displaying his receipt.

The receptionist looked up and her tone became soft, “Name?” she asked, looking directly into the man’s eyes. The man shoved his image of his receipt closer to the receptionist, his hand trembling as he looked away. “Diego Rodriguez.. Right?” the receptionist asked, seeming oddly less annoyed. Diego slightly scoweled, but nodded, confirming that it was him.

The receptionist stood up from her chair and headed to the back to retrieve his order. He didn’t order much, just a few kitchen supplies.

“Sterling silver utensils? You must be a man with exquisite taste, I take it?” the receptionist softly asked as she handed off the box to him.

Diego nervously nodded, not even processing the question asked. He quickly signed off the order, and sped walked back to the parking lot, itching to get back to safety.

Walking towards the exit, he turned up his music and tried to drown out everyone around him. “If I can’t survive something as small as this, then what good am I?” he thought as he neared the exit.

Stepping outside, he felt a moment of relief as it didn’t feel like everything was closing in around him. As he stepped closer to the other end of the parking lot, his senses spiked as something immediately felt wrong.

He darted around just enough time to shield his face with his arms, dropping his box. A tall, winged man tore the back of Diego’s forearms, causing him to hiss and wince at the sudden pain.

The blood started to trickle down his arms and drip onto the pavement, but just as quickly as the bleeding started, it stopped abruptly.

“It’s you… Its you!!,” the winged man muttered, then yelled in shock as he repeated himself, “It’s you!” he shouted again but cheerfully, his white smile glowing in the setting sun’s light.

Diego raised an eyebrow momentarily at the winged man’s cryptic words right before the man abruptly swung at him, aiming for his head, then for his legs.

Diego stepped back quickly and blocked his attack, looking into the winged man’s eyes.

“The hell is he on!?” Diego thought to himself for a split second as the man’s eyes met his, his pupils constructing as he smiled. Clearly he was running on some high, and whatever it was, Diego wanted nothing to do with it.

The winged man noticed the flash of inattentiveness and struck the back of Diego’s neck, knocking him out entirely.

Diego’s eyes rolled back as he almost fell to the ground, but the man grabbed him and threw him over his shoulder. He quickly adjusted to Diego’s tall frame, but just as he was about to go, he couldn’t move his legs.

He felt a slight breeze rush against his feathers. He whipped his head around, slightly frantic, fearing he’d been caught. He tightened his grip on Diego’s body as his eyes paced across the parking lot.

“Who’s there?!,” the winged man yelled out in fear, his voice trembling as he didn’t know what brushed against his feathers. He folded his wings in defense as his stance became more tense.

“It seems you’ve found something I’ve been searching for, may I have it back, please?,” The sudden voice calmly asked, gently resting a hand on the man’s shoulder. “It wouldn’t be fair to my valued customers to act ill-mannered in front of them, now would it?”

The man tilted his head to meet the eyes of the mysterious voice that whispered. There stood the receptionist from earlier, now with a scythe in tow. The scythe slightly hovered behind the woman, but it was clear she’s played this game before, multiple times.

“Shall I repeat myself?” The receptionist said sternly as her grip on the scythe tightened. “I don’t want to have to escort you off of my grounds.”