"I don’t know me.
Who I am, I mean.
All I know is I’m different."


2. The Harvest

I don’t know me.

Who I am, I mean.

All I know is I’m different.

She crosses the road, hugging her elbows against the cold.

Not that I can feel it.

Her blonde ponytail sways with each step, her heels clacking in the stony silence of the night. The street lights cast an orange-yellow glow on her, the leather of her jacket seeming to catch fire as she passes under each one. But soon, the street lights become few and far between.

I close the distance between us.

I don’t know if she can feel my presence, a change in the air pressure or an electric current seeming to prick at her skin, but she starts to worriedly cast nervous glances around her. Maybe she has heard the tales. I f she can feel my presence then she knows that something bad is about to happen.

That’s why I’m here.

I leap onto the next roof as she speeds her pace; the hooded, rowdy youths begin to accumulate further down the street.

 Not that she can see that.

“Don’t do it.” A familiar voice says quietly from behind me.

I ignore him.

“You can’t protect her forever.” He laughs. “How will you save all the others if you`re watching her?”

I growl, short and sharp my eyes catching the glint of a knife in one of the boys’ hands.

“Come on, just let one go will you? I’ll take you for a pint, I know a place, one of us owns it.”

My concentration wavers; he’s never mentioned an “us” before.

I tilt my head fractionally towards him.

“Us?” my voice feels rough, unused.

He appears beside me, dark red hair swept over his face, the lamp light making it look like a licking flame. We both wear black.

“Yes us. We’re the same you and I, or did you just think I was so lonely I had to waste my time with some damn do-gooder like you?”

I’d never really thought about it, he was just a nuisance, a buzzing fly in my ear trying to tempt me away from saving innocent lives.

He sighs.

“You’re doing this all wrong you know.”

I ignore him again.

The girl is getting closer to them now. I crouch on the edge of the roof, leaning over and fixing my gaze on the youths as they hear the feminine footsteps.

“We’re not meant to save them.”

There’s that we, that suggestion he knows exactly what I am. Who I am.

“What?” I ask impatiently, if I lose concentration at the wrong moment, she dies.

“How did you know this would happen? How did you know to track her?”

I don’t answer.

“You felt it didn’t you? A pull, a sort of magnetic pull dragging you towards her. Only you assumed it was a cue to save her.”

I growl again.

“What else am I supposed to do?!” I curse myself for falling for it and turn my attention back to the youths, the girl has spotted them now. She tries to turn and escape but they’ve already seen her.

“We, my dear brother are not meant to save her.”

He unfurls his black wings just as I do the same.

“We are meant to harvest her soul.”

Join MovellasFind out what all the buzz is about. Join now to start sharing your creativity and passion
Loading ...