Mmm, gods what happened. The last thing I can remember is... is... I can't remember.
Short term amnesia? Let me try to think of a small detail, anything.
My expression tightens. I've never tried so hard at something, and failed so miserably.
Damn it. I can't remember anything.
Where even am I?
I take a look at my surroundings. Taking the beautiful architecture of the city in for the first time, again.
The black bricks and dark wood create such a beautifully serene atmosphere. The way the moonlight sparkles off the glass makes it look as if it was stained purple.
Such a tragically beautiful place.
Where am I though?
My eyes look around. It's hard to see much, no street lamps back here and it's dark out.
All I can make out is dust collecting around the walls. A back alley I think. A few cobwebs too, I can see faint silhouettes of spiders crawling up and down them.
I think I have always loved spiders. Where others see something terrifying, I can see beauty. The spider is such a beautiful creature. Though it's life is much more tragic.
From the moment it's seen. It is hated. How could its life end in anything but ruin?
I suppose I should see if there was any head trauma. Seeing a medic might be paramount to restoring my memories. Saving myself.
My hand reaches out, it's pale. Didn't think I'd be this pale. Most people here are though. Not much sun to get a tan.
I tilt my head to the left slightly so I can feel the back of my head. Nothing. No blood, no bump, just a headache.
Did someone do this to me intentionally? Is that even possible? I begin to panic. The fear of becoming someone's puppet overwhelms me.
Maybe something is in my coat pocket, something about me. Who I am.
I reach into my coat, gods why does it always stay so cold here?
My coat is... poorly tailored. Like I got it from a second-hand dealer. I guess money is tight for me? I reach into one of the lower pockets, toward the bottom of the coat. A wallet.
Taking it out and looking at it, it's made of a cheap leather. Brown and rough, like I just took the skin off a cow and slapped it onto a wallet.
I open it, it makes a squeaking sound as I do. Just a card.
The card is a creamy white, and it is the only thing in my wallet. I take it out, trying to read the letters.
I am able to understand what the language means, but I do not know how. I have no memory of ever learning how to read. But I can.
The card reads, "Rivierre De Ropace, Private Investigator." No address. Am I Rivierre?
I don't know. But surely I must be?
Rivierre, I guess that's the first bit of information I have about myself.
The aching from my head intensifies, gods it's almost unbearable. I move my head to rest it on the wall. Feeling my hair scratch the brick. It goes maybe a bit past my shoulders. Don't even know the color though. Sigh.
I guess I should get up, maybe people will recognize me. Can tell me who I am. Do I have a family? What if the people who rely on me will be left helpless?
My breath falters a little, I take in a deep one as I prepare to stand up. My joints ache a little, but nothing serious. I feel fine, as much as I can remember what fine feels like.
Now being stood up I can see a little bit more around me. And in front.
I focus my eyes on what's in front of me. This alley is pitch black, but there is a street lamp on at the end of it. Probably connects to a road.
The buildings around me seem fairly well built, but old and worn down. The brick is dark, and the windows appear stained purple, but they aren't. Lights are off in all the buildings. Must be late.
Step by step, I force myself closer to the street. I pass rotten food on the ground. The smell climbs up and takes my nostrils hostage. It tingles a little bit.
I've never once felt such a strong desire to be unable to smell. Putrid odor.
Finally, the last step to the street. Surely someone is out and can help direct me to... to what?
Doesn't matter. I'm here.
The street. The bricks are a lighter gray, and it is very well kept. Every step I take a small thud occurs as I drop my feet onto the road.
Not a person on it. Whats making everyone stay away? I get it's late but you'd think at least someone would be here... The buildings down the street all look similar. Dark brick and seemingly purple stained glass.
The moonlight shines off it and creates an iridescent purple, it's beautiful.
Such a pretty moon, maybe the best part of this world is that we get to see it so often.
I focus back on the road ahead of me every thirty paces there's a street lamp. The lights are dim though, they don't illuminate very much. How do people see?
Speaking of people. I can't see even one.
Seriously, not a person? I have amnesia I don't know where the hell I am or who I am even.
I start to walk down the road. I'll end up somewhere. Maybe find a person.
The lamps flicker every now and then, and let off a slight humming noise.
I am beginning to suspect I might be stuck in a ghost town.
STILL NOT A FUCKING SOUL HERE? I don't get it.
A guttural shriek pierces my eardrums, it terrifies my nervous system.
I'm frozen in fear, I've never felt so helpless and petrified.
Though I guess I might not remember if I had.
The shriek wasn't human, it was monstrous.
It was like the wailing of a banshee.
I try to move my legs but I still can't.
My senses are shutting off too, I can't smell anything. I can't feel my own legs.
It's like a sudden fog covered the street. I can barely see anything.
The shriek sounded a bit of a ways away from me yet its influence affects me this much?
I think it was from a tainted. The pinnacle of human depravity.
I guess some information I do know.
I can remember facts, information. Not personal experiences though. I guess I know my name, Rivierre. Not much past that.
The shriek happens again, louder this time. It's closer.
No fear though. Just dread.
If this one comes to me, I'm fucked.
I'm just some random guy. Not a Harbinger.
Even in my last moments I can't have peace.
A cruel world.
My hearing returns to me. But it's a herald of impending doom.
Footsteps, deafeningly loud.
And it's coming straight my way.
They say tainted eat a person alive, by consuming their blood the tainted grows stronger in it's own way.
A grotesque way.
For every person consumed a new limb grows on the abomination.
I wonder how many this one has.
Oh, what if a Harbinger comes and saves me? I wonder if I could ask them about my past. They have supernatural powers maybe they could answer?
Though Harbingers aren't supposed to interact with mortals on the job.
Still worth a shot.
The footsteps are getting louder, another ten seconds and it'll turn this corner. Staring me straight in the face. Death become monster.
Nine. I wish I could remember something. Anything.
Seven. Maybe it's a punishment.
Five. Was I an evil person? Do I deserve this?
Three. I have the chance to rewrite my fate, and it's being taken from me.
One. I guess that's life.
I clench my body knowing what I am about to behold is something no mortal should ever bear witness to. Some say mortals turn mad just at the sight of one.
Though I think I already qualify as mad.
It's here.
It's head is extended forward, it's neck is as long as an arm. And it's hair is stringy barely holding on.
It's body is massive, numerous limbs sprouting from every crack and crevice of this abomination. It oozes a grotesque liquid from every pour.
It's panting, it's hungry.
My life, unmemorable.
And this death, unreasonable.
Fitting.