It was near pitch black when Lara followed her impulse to venture out the front door of her London home - inside, she felt far from secure and what looked so safe in the daylight became menacing, adopting jagged edges but the street outside? It was no more welcoming. The air was warm, far warmer than it should have been that time of year and carried a heavy, sickly sweet aroma that she couldn't place - like someone had boiled pure sugar and blood together and doused the walls. The bricks even looked like they were sweating.
The street was empty and the girl paused in tentative pacing, listening through the silence for the sounds of the main road a few blocks away. She convinced herself she heard the hint of cars, further away than the sound had ever been but she failed to distinguish any singular familiar noise. It was then that a rotten, icy cold fear began coursing through her veins. The early Saturday morning hours were always bustling - there was a pub at the end of her street, for fuck sake. But her surroundings... they looked less and less how she remembered. This was not her neighbourhood. Was it?
Lara quickened her pace, determined to reach the pub and laugh off her sleepy, late night delusions, until a shrill, metallic screech stopped her in her tracks. She couldn't see the source through the dim light, nor could she place the direction it had emanated from.
"Hello?"
@krvcger
