we scream our very souls free
Haunt had never found intrigue in the places everyone else seemed to. Had never been drawn to things stated boldly in the light of day and known by all. No, Haunt is a creature of the shadows. Of the unknown. That is where they live, and that is where they find the most intriguing things.
There is nothing here that screams of greatness, and perhaps that is why Haunt remains. Because those that scream of greatness are, ultimately, incredibly boring. And boredom is the most certain way to be rid of Haunt.
I have no desire to break the world, she claims. Skepticism tempers whatever belief Haunt may have held for that assertion. She wears her lightning too much like a shield. And those who feel they need such protection feel fear. And fear without direction has only one place to go. So perhaps the real question here should have been what it was she wished to break, if not the world?
Time enough for those musing later though. Not now, when her admissions beckon with a subtle and irresistible finger.
The crackling brightness of her lightning causes Haunt to pull further into the darkness, avoiding the painful light she wields with such intriguing carelessness. Moments later however, the light dies, leaving Haunt facing a mirror image of themself. Yellow eyes clash against yellow as the world around them dims, throwing them into a heavy, impenetrable darkness that is both home and haven to the creature she had chosen to mimic.
A heartbeat of silence greets her question, until, abruptly, laughter rings through the air with the brightness and clarity of a bell. A blink, and the shadow creature is gone. Or rather, moved, brushing alongside her, the lost echo of their laugh still hanging in the air where they’d been. Their soft whisper is almost eerie in the unnatural pitch, spoken too close, through unfathomable distance. “I think,” Haunt begins, voice low and surprisingly lyrical, “you are trying to distract me.”
Their smile, though invisible, is nearly palpable in the air. Then, on a breath of entirely unnecessary air, “It’s working.”
