The eternal buzzing of the old lighting of the apartment mimics that of the common mosquito. Anon found both of these things to be equal in annoyance. Nevertheless, he valiantly went forward down the long creaking hallway. There was always a hint of fear in his existence when he went down this hallway. The place was run-down. It was all he could afford. He was a pencil pusher at best where you worked. The lights were flickering on and off in the building was nearly silent other than the buzzing.
The cold shiver down his spine was more than likely because of the draftiness of the building, nothing along the lines of Supernatural. Still, the mind did wonder with all of these conditions met. The only thing keeping the fear away was exhaustion, primarily mental. Ear biting from his boss, everyone needs him to do something or another today.
That creeping feeling was still inside of his skull. He felt as if the corners of the shadows of the hallway were forming into claws edging at the sides of the walls just out of view. His pace quickened, spotting his salvation the lime green door that led to his apartment. For once, the chipping paint was a welcomed sight. Anon fumbled with the keys in his pocket. They were tangled in his pocket. Finally, he ripped them from the fabric only to be met with probing to find the right one.
Success was his getting the right key in hand. He pushed it towards the lock. Stopping for a moment has his vision began to blur in a techno-colored stream. It was as if someone had left on a 3D filter or something within his sight. He couldn't move, and there was a static ringing in his ears. This caused his heart to speed up, sweat dripped from his forehead onto the palm of his hand. Suddenly it snapped back to reality as if nothing had happened at all. Shaking his head, he then felt another dripping onto his forearm. It was crimson in hue. Blood? Reaching up, his nose had been bleeding. He quickly wiped it away. Chalking it up to the stress you've been under this fucking week has been terrible.
Quickly entered the room and flicked on the light, examining the combination kitchen and living room. Nothing seemed amiss. The old couch had gotten from his mother, the old TV set he had from his old room was right where he left them. The dishes were still packed tightly into the sink. Closing his front door, he slowly picked out of the peephole back out into the hallway. There was nothing. Of course, there was nothing. Paranoia had always been his friend. One of the few stable friends, but it always stayed with him. The bags under his eyes were becoming heavy as he let out a sigh loosening the piece of red fabric around his neck required by his company.
He eyed his porcelain savior. Creeping into the kitchen towards the machine that housed all the man's needs. Opening the fridge, it wasn't packed per se, but at least he had some decent food. He was after a cold one though sadly, he had no boys to crack it open with. Nevertheless, the numbing refreshment inside was good enough for now. His mind then went to pondering what he should do next. It was the weekend after today. He did have a lot of free time to himself. One of his friends had suggested picking up a new hobby. His usual hobbies included simply wasting his time in front of a computer screen and TV screen. Social interactions were not his Forte.
A new thought crosses his mind of him perhaps going to bed at a decent hour. That was met with a burst of resounding laughter from his own being. Sleep was for the weak, as he proudly said to most of his friends and coworkers. In most cases, he was a weak man. He found himself napping quite often to make up for the lack of nocturnal slumber. It wasn't his fault. He was just programmed that way. He always felt most active when the sun when down. That's why he took the late-night shifts at the office when others wanted to go home. A true midnight owl.
Shuffling his way over to the old couch, he plopped down on it face first, tilting his head towards the screen. His free hand that was not occupied by the beverage began to aim for the remote haphazardly with little success. Until finally, his fingers landed on the edge of the remote dragging it to him. Hitting the power button so it would ignite the distance screen. There he began his channel surfing looking for something to occupy his time into the wee hours of the evening we're only the restless we're awake. The night belongs to them, after all... them and the beings that lurk just inside the Shadows.
He finally set himself upright on the couch. Cracking open the beverage, the sizzling fluids bubbling up slightly, taking a hardy sip, the flavors dancing around on his tongue. He let out an audible AH from the refreshment, sinking deeper into the comfort of his couch. Still, the surfing continued. Everything that was on was something he'd seen before or something that was not as interesting. This was ruining his beverage. How could one sip on something refreshing without having entertainment? It just wasn't right in his book.
He was groaning now as he tossed the remote back on the counter, allowing whatever plays on the screen to be just background noise as he watched the ceiling. His eyes drifted up to the ceiling fan as he watched it spin in place, taking another sip from his beverage. Around around it went, there was again that distortion in his vision that's like ringing in his ear. His whole body seemed to freeze up as it did in the hallway. This time it lingered, the colors swirling into a mass almost like a vortex in front of his eyes. It was only broken by the sudden flash of white coming from the window.
"The Fuck?" It was almost as natural from his lips as the expression that twisted on his face. Quickly getting up from his seat, the light moved away from his window. Cautiously to the edge towards the window, slowly turning the stick that controls the blinders. What was revealed to him looked straight out of a movie? It was a platoon of soldiers dressed in pure black with a white symbol across everything that he didn't recognize. All their flashlights were headed in the alleyway they were walking into. It intersected the three buildings around his apartment. Was this some kind of independent film they were shooting or something? If that was the case, they better be careful it wasn't the kind of neighborhood they should be doing that in. At the very least, it was something that caught his interest; take me another quiet sip of his drink as he observed this platoon. Their weaponry looked awfully realistic.
There was a blur of something... all he could see was the coloring of this object. It was a whole lot of purple. It stood out against the gray colors of the buildings nearby. The platoon was given a signal by one of the leaders to take the corners. A few soldiers acted militaristic in nature, throwing up call signs and even patting each other on the back when they were done searching. They didn't make a sound, however.
Anon scratched his noggin in both curiosity and concern. Should he even be watching this?
Author's Note
Greeting Everyone, It's been while since wrote fanfiction for this site. I thought try again at it. I am gonna be work on my other works as well but, for now. I offer my read choice for Anon to make:
1.Keep Watching the Platoon
2. Close the Blinds
3. Try Focus on Purple thing.
