That Moth with a Hole in it

Apparently seeing a face and knowing what kind of scars, sunspots and make-up they have down to the point isn't the most common thing out there. I always thought it was normal through high school since Sherlock was pretty big and he thought like that. Maybe seeing a post in the street can tell me what kind of wood it is made from, and when and where it was manufactured. Most people with a high amount of experience in the field of wooden poles can tell more than me.
I'm told people are coming after me and I don't know why. I have the choice to follow the those with moths and scowls or live a life barricading the door and windows each night.
It always starts with a bad day...

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1. A strange day to those unknowing

Before we begin on the whole SUCH AND SO TIME UNTIL INCIDENT or whatever- I don't really pay attention to doomsday countdowns- let me state how bad a day it was to begin with on the sixth of March. This wasn't the sort of bad day where my cat got hit by a car and the coffee machine spewed that gross leftover stuff across the front of my favourite white shirt before some important meeting or date; it is more of the I-woke-up-from-a-dream-I-don't-remember-and-it-leaves-me-in-a-cold-sweat-and-now-I'm-in-this-constant-edge-of-panic-because-I-probably-forgot-something-important-and-now-I'm-giving-an-indulgence-of-effort-into-figuring-out-what-the-hell-is-happening kind of bad day. Marna Walowitz from across the country would get that all the time before her higher level education test thing. My cat didn't get hit by a car (I don't have a cat) and the coffee machine didn't get possessed by the demon from 'The Exorcist' and spew grossness all over my favourite white shirt (my favourite shirt isn't white anyways). I guess I just woke up from the wrong side of the bed (and stood on someone's scone and watch as bugs did weird things)...

                                                                             

                                         Seven Hours until Incident

Like a compulsive alarm clock I wake up at six fourteen and it bothers me how I can't get that extra minute of sleep and make it aligned with the quarter hour. Unfortunately my subconscious seems to very dearly want to wake up just a fraction of time before satisfying evenness. Work ends at exactly ten thirty each night down-town so there isn't really a need to wake up so early considering I punch in at twelve o'clock exactly. I eat breakfast at exactly seven; two free range eggs been on the shelf since last week with the approximate thickness of around 300 micrometers; an assortment of blue lake green beans grown for seventy days and a red pepper grown in Indonesia and spent three days on the store shelf before I bought it in a pack of four. All was scrambled together into an omelet thing. The total nutritional content of the breakfast amassed in my head with too many measurements and words I can't pronounce and I already have a headache behind my eyes. I get dressed at eight. Today I'm wearing a shirt fifty percent polystyrene fifty percent cotton with white and black dye and forty-five thread count and jeans indigo dye factory stressed jeans, frayed bottoms and manufactured in Indonesia but sold in America, simple. I leave the house and lock the front door apartment hollow core PVC wooden door manufactured by Huasen in China. Made of PVC laminate and MDF wood; engraving from diamond cutting tools under the control of equipment from Germany and Italy. Shipped from Shanghai and has approximate lifetime of 18 years but passed said lifetime two months ago. Weighs twenty five kilograms and costs twenty four US dollars. The door is relief white a white-grey colour attached to a brass Hancock key entry doorknob with satin nickel finish model number 744H 18 SMT. 

It is (you guessed it) exactly exactly eleven o'clock when I reach the station. With large breeze-stone blocks seventy years old pillaged from the old train station next town over. porous and won't last the next decade for supporting pillars and surrounding walls supplementing to that general trains station feel of 'hurry the fuck up I'm gonna be late for work'. Or maybe that was the person twenty eight years old male brown hair and a missing molar from bad dentist appointment wears hundred percent cotton shirt with red dye and track trousers has hair slicked back with Aussie Instant Freeze Sculpting Gel behind me when I took too long selecting a soft drink aluminium can Black Norwegian rats climbed over the tops during import from the vending machine with the phrase 'ANIMAL TORTURE HUMAN LEISURE' in bold, black writing Sharpie fast dry bought in the corner shop two blocks over. I tend to forget what goes on around me at times and mistake external sources for internal. It's very annoying but enough of that; this is when the strange thing happens. Or at least the first strange thing; many occurrences of the unusual happen daily but will only be listed as strange to those unused to such experience. Such as Dahkaar from Port Louis when he saw a dog walking on two legs. The other two worked but I guess the dog decided to be bipedal for the day instead. It must have been quite strange for Dahkaar; who isn't used to a dog being bipedal from choice.

Oh dear.

I'm off topic.

It just happened now so I was being entertained by the idea of a dog for the apartment. maybe a bulldog. They're so single blooded they won't give me a headache each time I stroke its inbred skull. But back to the physical present.

I dug the can from the collection bin semi-plastic with roughened mould and pivoted to the right as to attempt to stop inconveniencing the rude trackie behind me.I didn't get very far when I feel a hand roughly grasp my shoulder Oxford Chiller inner glove black dye with index and thumb cut off at first joint from knuckle fingers smooth and without prints Sharpie residue on ring finger pad and spin me around in the middle of the crowd. My first instinct was to shrug off their hand and tell them to piss off like any good city slicker. That was a lie. My survival instincts are surprisingly poor for someone who lives in the city. My real first instinct is to get out of the crowd and then confront the person but their hand was like a clamp and held me in place. I know I don't weigh much but am I really that easy to halt? Being apart of the tidal wave of workers seems to fail in fazing this person. I may as well go through with it. I think they said something. Dammit. I looked at them; probably with my nose scrunched up.

"You what?" It was an annoying habit and I could see agitation on their face. Plain as their onyx eyes with pinched corners. Their top lip over turned into a sneer like expression but it didn't seem exactly like a Severus Snape kind of sneer and more like they had a slight cleft lip. I tried not to focus on anything particular about their face like make up or scars as they spoke in a hushed, gruff voice.

"You're. Like. Me." Are they serious. I hope I made a face of incredulous comprehension. How wouldn't we be like each other?

"Well we're both homo-sapiens so I certainly hope that's true." I could see the serotonin begin to flow more rapidly as their aggression rose. The grip on my shoulder tightened and I'd be lying if I said I wasn't scared. They were pretty tall and foreboding. 

"You know and see things -" This was getting annoying.

"I'm pretty sure other people can do that too apart from you an me so if you're done with this ego boost I'm gonna go catch the tube, okay?"

"I wasn't done you little..." They sighed heavily and seemed to try to control their emotional state. Good for them. I'm going to miss my train. I tried to leave but the hand stayed firmly on my shoulder and I wondered if I could walk away with a severed limb on my shoulder. We must have been quite loud or obtrusive because people were giving us dirty or inquiring looks. I did nothing to abate the faces, "You can look at a chair and know when and where it was manufactured and what is was made from. You can say the exact materials used and the model number without even knowing the chair was there in the first place." I stilled and looked at them. Atrophic scar on left temple multiple lentigino simplex on right side of face Mauritian features.

"And you know this, how?" It's not that I talk out loud, do I? They seemed to be happy the conversation (if you could call it that) was going their way.

"The moths told me."  I stared rudely.

What.

What.

Ok.

"The moths." I said slowly, fairly worried whatever they had would be passed onto me. they didn't say anything as I tried to back away, "Got it. I'm going to leave now." I finally got their hand off me and almost ran to the platform but they tried to follow and ugh. Insanity is something I don't want to bother with today.

I weaved in and out of the crowd. Bumping into all manners of people wearing polyester, silk, satin, cotton, a mix of all, perfumes, hair spray, dyes, gels, toothpaste, make-up, water, sweat, vomit and more and more and more miscellaneous items I don't want to know. I see the train and I can hear them behind me and getting closer. I don't want to deal with them. I don't want to hear about that crazy shit. Fuck everyone is wearing a different thing. Why do we all have to be different. Wear the same thing for fucking once. please hurry up I can hear them behind me. Hurry up hurry up hurry up. Yes. NONO don't touch me! 

I jolted forward and hit the edge of the train; the flood of electronic systematics and metalworks and paints hit with a sudden stop. I almost tripped but the amount of people inside stopped me. All I got were agitated looks for bumping into them dried cow leather and metal studs criss-cross indigo dye jeans dark red Sophisticated Lush eye shadow. I held my head down and murmured 'sorries' as I progressed further into the cabin for a seat SUMICUBE polyester seat cushion. Considering all the other people polyester jumper red dye black threading for country club logo formed in 1886 membership will expire in three weeks denim bag with aluminium zippers and Adidas logo white vans scuffed on tops bought for fun but these shoes standing I found there were none in this section of the train. I checked the others but there were too many people Claire’s no smear gloss nail varnish hot pink white dye cotton shirt with name written in blue Sharpie on the tag rough woollen school blazer with owl insignia threaded on left breast pocket has had blazer for four years and only cleaned it twice due to lack of knowledge in cleaning it Dermatology skin cleanser tube half empty wrinkle remover applied freely Elizabeth Arden smeared on lips extra tube in hoodie pocket to get past the second cabin. It was like walking through a room packed full of cement mannequins bolted to the floor. I heard people talking about wok an how 'She's our age and already has a kid, what are we doing? as well as 'Have you been there yet? The chocolate is really cheap and they're huge. You should go it's on Brunswick Street; beside the Lush'. There was even a confused French or Portuguese couple looking anxiously between the train map and the LED screen showing what the next stop as. Sometimes one of the two would look at the screen ad look back at the back with a furrowed brow and whisper the name of the top to the other in confusion only to have their partner point at a place in the map and say its name. No one acknowledged them apart from looking at the screen as well to see what they were looking at. Maybe because we often don't enjoy having to socialise or help in crowded places and disrupt the noise type in motion to help them; or they didn't speak their language. Who knows?

My stop was two one from this one and a few of the seats had been abandoned, finally. I slipped into one by the aisle before another person could; they were walking to it the same time as me but I was closer and had to suffer their insulted glare for ten minutes until another seat was available. Further away thank goodness. The Oxford glove thug was quite far away from my mind when trying to avoid as much human contact as possible. Now with no one to breathe down my neck those happy; leg jigging memories come rushing back like a tsunami on crack. It's often much easier to sort strange events into categories answering questions. I see it as so:

Who- Large build with indented atrophic scar on left temple from a possible blunt force trauma could mean they have been injured in a fight before; lots of those these days. Lentigino simplex or sunspots on right side of face could mean they spent time in the sun or under a sunbed. Dark skin indicates heritage outside of country from long or short time ago. Bluntness may indicate an immigrant title and lack of subtlety in English tongue but may be an outcome of their upbringing. Sex is undecided; possibly female but gender is unknown.

Where- Public area, place of transport. I was grabbed from behind and not confronted up front but instead trapped. Must have believed I would run or would not afford for me to run yet didn't want to shout or grab me fully when I ran to train. Could have been because all things were transitioning too rapidly. 

What- Was grabbed after grabbing soda; had dropped soda when running to train (waste of two thirty). Confronted about awareness. Said they knew because of lepidopterans; moths. I became unnerved when they said this and tried to leave grip was still affirmed during first attempt but struggled out after second and got onto the train with the hopeful thought I had lost them in the termite colony rush of people.

When- Around eleven fifteen (am) on the sixth of March. Twenty minutes ago. 

Why- True motives are yet to be decided. had higher levels of adrenaline than the moderate human's. Seemed in a rush or scared. Possibly both but not afraid of me. Wanted to keep a calm scenario but was unable to regulate temper...

I almost missed my stop and probably stood on the foreigner's muffin seeing as how Starbucks Blueberry Scone 420 calories seventeen grams fat sixty one grams carbohydrates two grams fibre five grams protein five hundred ten grams sodium nutritional facts about some scone popped into my head and I'm pretty sure my soul was cursed to hell in Portuguese or French. I love the tube. And inconvenient food stuffs placed haphazardly everywhere. Georgie Landie from the Blitzen club in Ireland feels the same way. I don't see the person anywhere and they would have had a chance to grab me in the tube. I hope they left me alone and went off to find more substances to abuse. The rest of my journey to work felt odd. My ears kept twitching back like someone behind was pulling them. they felt like they were being tickled. My leg wouldn't stop jigging when I was stationary in line to get out and during the wait for the cross walk - I'm usually quite still before work. As I walked through the watery stones of an overcrowded city people were giving me weird looks and some stopped to stare. Another walked right into a lamp post. 

When I got to the front doors of the office complex someone walked up to me.

"Excuse me, sir?" I turned with possibly a wide eyed look. Raised eyebrows and all.

"Yeah?" The corners of her mouth pulled into her cheeks and her meticulous eyebrows Tinkle Eyebrow Shaper 3K drew together as her dark eyes Covergirl Queen Collection Eyeliner latched onto my back. In an eyelid bat she looked back up with a hesitant expression.

"You- You've got a bug on your back.."

"Oh, uh. Okay." I moved to brush it off. But the woman stopped me. She grabbed her phone and flicked up. "Miss, what," She held up her phone and tapped the screen; eyes focused where I couldn't see, "what are you doing?", without speaking she held up her camera.

The photograph betrayed countless moths with red wings writhing all over my back and neck; peeking over my ears and head.

I shrieked and batted at my back Blue Cotton Twill Bomber; the dusty, furry bodies jumped madly under my hand and some travelled over to my face and I can feel them and shitshitshit I'm definitely screaming. Their hard exoskeletons writhed and cracked under my frantic slapping. Scales displaced from wings others fail and after I felt no more moths. I don't know what happened to the woman; she left and in her place a small crowd of people watched my powder covered hands shakily push open the doors silver double door clear anodized frame, 1 inch clear insulated glass, push and pull bar, grade 1 closer, 10 inch bottom rail to work; whispering inquiries and worries. 

They forgot about me when they saw the shrivelled corpse of the woman; moths still inching their six red stained legs over her exposed and agonised flesh.

                                                      

                                                                                                                                    

 

If I hadn't heard people screaming in horror at the remains of the woman I probably would've carried on my usual day completely ignorant to the body. She did't make a sound that would indicate anything like this; at least I think she didn't. My senses felt tunnelled on the moths around me. Was that targeted at me? Did the person at the train stop have anything to do with the moths? I feel abnormally calm watching the moths flutter away from the body. Fergus Nguyen often experienced this calm working on a case. On the corner of my peripheral I see someone scramble for their phone and another is screaming for help. It sounds tinny in my ears. My hand is still on the door and my body is twisted to see it. Her body is curled in on itself like the bodies of Pompeii but her head is turned to me. Her lips were chewed away to ragged stumps making the perimeter of her mouth. The teeth are rotted black pips that oddly bring up candy corn. I feel ridiculous thinking about that. I turn away and wind my arms around me.

I don't want to go to work anymore. 

Wailing sirens grow louder and louder as they near. Two cruisers line up and officers lump out. One of them brushes my shoulder and asks if I'm alright and if I need medical help. I hear myself mumble 'no'. They lightly touch my elbow and asks me to come with them to the car. I oblige. As we walk I hear the officer ask me questions. 'Did you know this person?', 'What time did this happen?', 'Did you ever interact with this person?', 'Can you describe what this person looked like prior to this?'. I don't know if I gave any answer; I was listening to my heartbeat drum my eardrums like gunshots. I saw her body and no information flew in: no blood type or skin colouring or sex or height or weight or clothing. It was silent. I feel scared and I don't want to be. People were being asked questions the same type as me and officers were watching a coroner work. I had nothing reciprocate these sights into factual information. For once in my life I was silent. The officer had somehow left when I reached the car a few minutes ago. ow they were back and told me I was seen with her and had apparently talked with her before this. I think the officer asked me for validation of these reports and I nodded numbly. I piled into the car with two other officers. One at the wheel; another in shotgun and the officer who interviewed me to sat my right. My eyes watched the sun pour between skyscrapers and clouds. 

It happened so quickly.

                                                                  Nine Minutes Until Incident

"Take a seat sir, I assure you the interrogation will only take a few minutes of your time if you choose to cooperate." I felt twitchy again. My hand kept shifting up to scratch my head when it didn't itch. Time was dragging on.

"Oh, I-I know. It'ssssss uh, just- just the waiting for this to end that's getting to me. Is all" Officer Paige Maybelline Superstay 24hr Color Illegal Length Fiber Extensions Waterproof Mascara 
Superstay Better Skin Foundation
smiled and shifted forward, fingers laced together. Julian Moors' fifth grade teacher looks like her.
"What can you tell me about Marsha Wallas?" So that was her name.

"I didn't even know her name until now so I doubt I can supply any information Miss Eisen- I mean Officer Paige." My hands were shaking and my neck twitched. Maybe it was the return of the information, or nerves getting the better of me. Paige smiled; her crows feet grew in definition.

"Any information will aide us in our investigation into the death of Ms Wallas." I inhaled and looked at my feet.

"Uh, she wore mascara and eyeliner?" I looked up wincing. Paige smiled again and I started worrying if she was angry with me.

"Did she say anything to you before the accident? Have you two ever met before or even contacted eachother online?" I shook my head frowning.

"No; I am fairly sure I've never met her in my life." Paige looked down. "But she did tell me there was a bug on me." I rushed to say.

"Was there?"

"Yeah, moths. Lots of moths crawling all over my back." Paige's eyebrows rose.

"What did you do when she told you you had bugs on your back?"

"I screamed and flapped around like a loon and when the moths buggered off she was like... that." I gesticulated; emphasising the last word. Paige nodded and it was quiet. I heard her breathe and saw her twitch. I don't recall blinking (either that or I'm a fast blinker). She inhaled and looked up.

"Well Mr Mia I hope you have a safe week." We said goodbye to one another and as I rose to my chair; my movement slowed to a dreadful snail's pace. As did Officer Paige's. I found I couldn't move at a comprehensible speed as both our noses started to bleed. I wanted to scream out of fear and pain. Officer Paige's eyes reflected my emotions. We hear footsteps thud dully down the hall and a shadow stopped by the one-way mirror ironcast door. A sharp clicking sound was heard. Muffled noises. Paige was breathing heavy and strained. I was trying to stay quiet; like when you're playing hide and seek and you're trying to keep your breath silent so they don't find but you end up getting out of breath. This was real life. I was out of breath. And I had been found. The door creaked open like a breaking spine. Long fingers curled over the door frame.

I held my breath. Heart past the rate of normal fear.

"Is a Ryan Mia in here?"

                                      

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