@codeno12 summoned the undead into the world ✘
The dead of dawn osculates at the speckles by the back of a strained nape as the hyperborean breeze embraces the frail figure of a human body into its glacial arms, lithe chains of pale fingers found delineating the very outlines of a professional camera hanging around the curvature of his neck by a single strap as careless steps lead a mindless being through the hard soil of the sidewalk, welcomed by the darkness of night time. It is an unusual happening -- being able to roam through the streets in a sane state of mind past midnight isn’t usually a privilege Thomas can grace himself with, matter of fact, it is beyond his will for it has been stripped from bare hands years back.
Night shots are somehow the most captivating and fascinating to be snapped, when the city dives into deep slumber, when the streets are left to be dominated by ghosts and the rumbling sound of an abandoned wind, finally setting peace to common grounds and giving birth to nothing but the sweet melody of silence. Oh, he just happens to be a sucker for the beauty of it. The extraordinary event draws curious set of orbs to scan through the corners bordered by the delicate touch of an everlasting moonlight above, illuminating the city to unleash its most breathtaking corners to the eyes of daring soul.
A brief thought is brutally interrupted by the ghosting of an ice cold breath by the incurvation of an exposed neck, an unknown, foreign source nowhere to be found when hazel hues dismantle every corner of its surroundings by an observant pace. Nothing -- no one, other than the figure standing by the far corner of the street. It could not be the source, the owner of such breath ascending goosebumps through the entirety of his anatomy. There was something else, no, someone else. Through the edges of a shorter figure hovered an aura, mysterious and amorphous, inhuman. The hitching of a breath halts the passage of oxygen through the photographer’s epiglote, bony rows of fingers grasping the cold material of a neglected camera to align the rectangular frame by the height of his right eyes. Click. There goes a picture. Click. And another. Careless he was to assume the flash was turned off.
The imminent collision of strange worlds makes its burst seconds later as a reverberation of his act -- any stranger would question their figures being capture into a camera at random. “I apologize for the picture taken without your permission.” Apologetic words spill from rose tinted lips as the tall stature of his building plants itself by the latter’s front when steps were more than quick to warn his path made towards the other. It was a hasty reflex, a mistake -- how to explain he was able to visualize creatures from the downworld into their own? “I just happened to see something--oh. No, nevermind. It was probably just my imagination.” A lie. It seems to always be the way. They say those who lie often tend to believe in their own lies -- sad it would be to dive into an unreal reality.
