Re: Open for Business | (Open)
Posted: 11 Jul 2019, 23:30
The smile that had sat upon his lips in a half jest had slowly slid away as the hairs upon the back of his neck stood on their end. A feeling of uneasiness washed over him and for a moment Harold felt a cold rush up his arms and the room seemed to linger in that state for no more than a few seconds but to Harold it felt longer. It felt as if he was walking alone down a dark alley. It was as if he was alone…
The silence broke again with the, by the sounds of his accent, Englishman retorting his comments upon those ungodly beings that lurked these forsaken streets. Harold had seen what they really were, once you stripped away their guise of ‘humanity’. Under all the smart words and unnatural ability they were all the same, animals, predators and their prey? Well their prey were the rightful citizens of this planet. Those created in the image of god and whose light illuminates their way. The beasts of the night as well as the other beasts that had come out of their hiding were no work of the lord.
The brow of Harolds well cut ebony face sunk it’s way into a frown as the book keeper continued with his lecture. These were the words that were spoken by those who surely could not understand, too many books and too much tea to truly understand the perils at be. Another sympathiser among the many that had started to spread across the city and on social media for that matter, something that could only be said as concerning at the very least. What would some old book seller know of what Harold and his brothers in the task force had to deal with on an almost daily basis, the torn flesh and gore of each den that they would flush out. The risk of having your throat ripped out by a feral beast was the least they often dealt with.
The large police officer went to retort when a piece of paper hit the counter in front of him thanks to the other in the room. As his eyes flicked over the words a scowl was forced not to surface and instead only a stern face took over as he replied.
“No you are right, not all of those in the shadows are monsters. Some are victims. Some petty criminals, but the monsters that live with us today fit such a title. They are born by the work of the devil and their existence is only to sin. For them to hide is only for they scare of the lords judgement upon their forsaken souls.”
Harold reached out and took the plaster with his good hand, peeling the surface and applying it to the affected area of his finger.
“As to judging a person without knowing their lives, I grew up in a land that my people ruled for thousands of years only to be told I was worth less than another man due to the colour I was born. I do not judge any man, for a final judgement awaits us all. However, it is my duty to make sure that the innocent are protected. If that means calling an animal for what it is then so be it.”
Harold would not let the man whom had gone soft to the threat of the supernatural menaces lecture him like some child. It was then that his brain deviated for a second and let a thought take hold for just a moment. Perhaps this man had deeper reasons to be so protective of the undead beasts. A silly thought, a stupid one that did nothing for Harold but raise questions that would go unanswered.
$10, $20, $30 he counted them out onto the counter each note a funny looking bill and quite different to the Rand of his own homeland. This bill had the head that he did know however a head that looked out at them all. As the final dollar was to connect with the table he heard a noise from the rear of the shop and then a movement in his peripheral vision. As his eyes glanced at the woman had already moved off towards the back of the shop were she seemed to sweep behind a shelf of books. The cold sensation had passed but it picked up again as he squinted to see what was going on. His hand tapped at the waist of his jacket and felt the solid shape of his holster. It was more muscle memory than purposeful action, an old habit that one soon picks up in the Quarantine Zone.
“Oh um thank you sir. Don't mind all my talk, it’s just been a hard few months on the department.”
His Police badge showed briefly as the African flipped up the leather wallet to a close and stuffed it back into his pocket.
The silence broke again with the, by the sounds of his accent, Englishman retorting his comments upon those ungodly beings that lurked these forsaken streets. Harold had seen what they really were, once you stripped away their guise of ‘humanity’. Under all the smart words and unnatural ability they were all the same, animals, predators and their prey? Well their prey were the rightful citizens of this planet. Those created in the image of god and whose light illuminates their way. The beasts of the night as well as the other beasts that had come out of their hiding were no work of the lord.
The brow of Harolds well cut ebony face sunk it’s way into a frown as the book keeper continued with his lecture. These were the words that were spoken by those who surely could not understand, too many books and too much tea to truly understand the perils at be. Another sympathiser among the many that had started to spread across the city and on social media for that matter, something that could only be said as concerning at the very least. What would some old book seller know of what Harold and his brothers in the task force had to deal with on an almost daily basis, the torn flesh and gore of each den that they would flush out. The risk of having your throat ripped out by a feral beast was the least they often dealt with.
The large police officer went to retort when a piece of paper hit the counter in front of him thanks to the other in the room. As his eyes flicked over the words a scowl was forced not to surface and instead only a stern face took over as he replied.
“No you are right, not all of those in the shadows are monsters. Some are victims. Some petty criminals, but the monsters that live with us today fit such a title. They are born by the work of the devil and their existence is only to sin. For them to hide is only for they scare of the lords judgement upon their forsaken souls.”
Harold reached out and took the plaster with his good hand, peeling the surface and applying it to the affected area of his finger.
“As to judging a person without knowing their lives, I grew up in a land that my people ruled for thousands of years only to be told I was worth less than another man due to the colour I was born. I do not judge any man, for a final judgement awaits us all. However, it is my duty to make sure that the innocent are protected. If that means calling an animal for what it is then so be it.”
Harold would not let the man whom had gone soft to the threat of the supernatural menaces lecture him like some child. It was then that his brain deviated for a second and let a thought take hold for just a moment. Perhaps this man had deeper reasons to be so protective of the undead beasts. A silly thought, a stupid one that did nothing for Harold but raise questions that would go unanswered.
$10, $20, $30 he counted them out onto the counter each note a funny looking bill and quite different to the Rand of his own homeland. This bill had the head that he did know however a head that looked out at them all. As the final dollar was to connect with the table he heard a noise from the rear of the shop and then a movement in his peripheral vision. As his eyes glanced at the woman had already moved off towards the back of the shop were she seemed to sweep behind a shelf of books. The cold sensation had passed but it picked up again as he squinted to see what was going on. His hand tapped at the waist of his jacket and felt the solid shape of his holster. It was more muscle memory than purposeful action, an old habit that one soon picks up in the Quarantine Zone.
“Oh um thank you sir. Don't mind all my talk, it’s just been a hard few months on the department.”
His Police badge showed briefly as the African flipped up the leather wallet to a close and stuffed it back into his pocket.