Present/Future

At night when no-one’s watching
I stand on top of skyscrapers
On the edge of bridge railings
One foot precariously in this world
The other teetering in the next

Do I stay in the present?
Or do I fall into the future?

Suicidal Superheroes

I want to die.
I'm not suicidal or anything, I wouldn't go out of my way to die. But, if a bus was hurtling its way toward me, I wouldn't necessarily step out of its way.
My life's not bad or anything, it's just incredibly average. I go to my mum's every Sunday for dinner. I sit there while she talks and talks about her Yorkshire Terrier, Bessie, and never pauses to ask how I'm doing. Honestly I could evaporate right in front of her eyes and she'd probably keep going on about how Bessie went to the groomers that morning.
I have a girlfriend who comes over a few times a week. We have sex. Sometimes she sleeps over. I don't think I'm in love with her, but then again, I don't think I've ever been in love, so would I even know? My Nana used to tell me you know when you're in love. It's like being on fire and only the person you can't stop thinking about can temper it. I haven't had that. Nana's dead now.
I hate my job. I work 9 - 5:30pm, 5 days a week as a debt collector. 5/5 days I get yelled at and at least twice a week I get told to kill myself. But that's not why I want to die.
It's just that... my life's unremarkable.
When I was little I'd lie awake at night with my eyes closed, picturing entire galaxies swooshing past my eyelids. I'd tie pillowcases around my neck and jump out of the highest tree pretending I was a superhero.
But I got older and the galaxies turned into dull orbs, and my mum took away my cape the day I climbed up Nana's old oak tree and broke my ankles when I hit the ground.
I can't recall the exact point I decided I wouldn't mind dying. I just remember thinking that the world wouldn't stop rotating on its axis if it happened.

The Last Daughter of the Moon

Things lie in wait in the darkness. I've known this fact my whole life. I can hear the werewolves howling at a blood-soaked moon in the park across town, and the scratch of a Warlock’s nails on the wall of Red’s tavern. I hear these things because I’m one of the Daughters of the Moon, a small group of female Witch Hunters with magical abilities passed down through generations, whose sole purpose is to protect mankind from Warlocks and Witches.

I take a sip of my bloody Mary, savouring the spices dancing on my tongue.

"Another?" A shadow covers my face as the russet haired bartender squares his muscular shoulders expectantly, shielding my eyes from the glow of the industrial pendant light hanging behind him. 

"Not tonight Red, I've got places to be." I grab my jacket from the back of the stool and make my way toward the door, nodding my head in Red's direction as I go. I shoulder the door open and the frigid air hits me, clearing my head from the chaos of the bar.

I look up at a moon glowing an unearthly shade of crimson in a sky of obsidian. The atmosphere bubbles like a volcano ready to erupt at any moment; it’s the perfect night for hunting.

I shrug into my jacket and let the night take me, my ears keenly pricked to the whirr and hiss of the city. I know he's around here somewhere, I heard him just moments before, screeching those talons on the red brick.

I walk toward where I heard the noise and pick up his syrupy scent in a second. My skin prickles with anticipation, he wants me to find him.

My steps quicken and I crouch low as the sickly-sweet smell of him coats the air. He's close, I'll have that bastard soon.

Reaching my hand around my back I grasp the hilt of my dagger, caressing my fingers along the edge of my blade. I round the corner quickly and find him leaning against the wall, his face half covered by a black velvet top hat. He absently picks his fingers and I force my dagger against his throat.

Bloody cocky these Warlocks are, they think they're invincible. I press harder on the edge of the blade where it rests on his neck, willing the blood to the surface.

I can feel the blood lust, my body humming with the promise of the kill. I begin sliding the blade across his throat, edging closer to his jugular when he lifts his finger and clicks his tongue.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you." The corner of his mouth hitches into a smug smile.

"You would say that wouldn't you, rodent?" My teeth bare on the last word and I push my body closer to his, preventing any last hope of escape.

"I mean, if you don't want to know anything about your sister, go ahead." My mouth becomes dry and my insides feel like they’re being gripped in a vice. How could he know anything about her?

"What do you mean? My sister died years ago-" I stop myself from sounding too desperate, I've known these beasts to say anything to spare their own lives. But part of me needs to hear him say differently.

"Kill me, and you'll never find out." His smile stretches into a full grin; he knows he has me.

"How about you fucking tell me before I slit your throat?" The anger fighting its way to the surface, threatening to break free and splatter any promise of truth onto the pavement.

His bony fingers wriggle in front of my face and I fight the urge to angle my blade and cut each one off of his outstretched hand. His silence feels like an eternity, then at last he begins to speak. Only two words, but they are enough to shake me.

"She's alive." His features relax into a cool calculating look, and for a moment I think he looks different to the lizard-like Warlock I encountered moments before. He looks almost human.

I drop my blade a fraction of an inch and wait for him to elaborate. These fucking Warlocks are all about dramatics.

"Speak to Nysgar, she knows more." The sincerity disappearing as his cocky expression resurfaces.

"Where can I find her?" I level my stare to meet his green speckled eyes. No, I think. There's nothing human in those soulless pits. He's a mixed blood monster.

I remember the first time I found out about Warlocks; it was a scorching day in August, the city air electrified with the promise of an oncoming storm. Cyra and I were playing on the swings in the park, our mother’s honey blonde hair swept across her face as she fretted that we were swinging too high. She was so focused on us that she didn't see the man approach from behind her, not that you'd call him a man exactly. His skin was tinged an unearthly shade of green and a large scar stretched from the corner of his right eye down to his lip. He slipped my mother an envelope which she shoved into her coat pocket, but not before I saw the emerald seal that held it closed. As soon as the man was gone she hurried over to us, ushering us away from the park.

I remember she looked scared. Our mother, who feared nothing, was scared.

"Who was that mama?" Cyra asked. Too young to understand that when someone's face looked like their entire world had just cracked apart, you don't ask questions.

The Warlock’s honey coated tone guides me back to the present.

“Go to the Hollyhock Hotel, you’ll find Nysgar there.”

He snaps his fingers, the air shimmers and he disappears right in front of me. I must have loosened my grip on him because he’d never have been able to use a vanishing spell with my blade at his throat. Normally, I’d be pissed that he escaped and chase him to the ends of the earth to kill him. But not now, because one single thought fills my head.

I need to get to the Hollyhock Hotel.

***

Time hurls by when you’re racing toward the person you love. It has only been 10 minutes but I’m already half way there, dipping my motorbike in and out of traffic at breakneck speeds. For years, I’d thought my sister dead, killed by the same people who murdered my mother. I only had one clue, one thing that the murderers left behind, a letter with an emerald seal. The past decade I’ve been searching the lore books, interrogating Warlocks and all this time she could have been a mere 20 minutes away?

I pull up to the hotel’s parking lot and gaze up at the building, the sandstone bricks crumbling and falling apart, the once grand pillars that line the front of the hotel dilapidated and decaying. This place could have been nice once, but it’s clear that no-one’s cared for it in years.

I walk carefully through the front doors, picking my feet around the rubble that blocks the doorway. I couldn’t imagine anyone being here, but I call out just in case.

“Hello?” My voice sounds louder than it is and it ricochets off the spiral staircase that dominates the centre of the hotel. It looks even crappier inside, a chandelier swings above the stair case, the light bulbs all blown from what I can see. Luckily with my senses that won’t be a problem, I can see in the dark better than the daylight.

“Aysel. I’ve been wondering when you’d turn up,” a soft voice purrs from the top of the staircase.

“Who’s there? Show yourself!” I yell, grabbing another dagger from my boot and tucking it up my sleeve.

“Oh, I think you know who I am.”

My eyes shift as she begins to descend the stairs; her silver hair catches the moonlight that shines through the broken window.

“Nysgar.” I breathe. I’d heard stories of her, the great Witch who murders for sport and uses her victim’s body parts in the dark spells she creates.

“Correct. I must admit, I expected more from you, being a Daughter of the Moon and all that… Or, are you not as smart as mummy dearest?” A predatory spark flashes in her topaz eyes and a lump forms in my throat.

My mother was an incredibly skilled hunter; I remember reading about her exploits in one of the lore books I’d found in the library at home. I, on the other hand, had only just been going through my training when she died. The rest of my skills I’ve picked up on the streets whilst interrogating Warlocks for information. But how could she know my mother? Unless…

“Did you kill her?” To my annoyance, I stumble on the last word.

She’s standing just inches from me now. Shit. I forgot how fast Witches can move. I’m not on the ball tonight, I’ve let myself be distracted by thoughts of Cyra and my mother.

She leans forward slowly and cups my cheek as if to kiss it, her lips brush my ear and whispers so quietly I barely catch it.

“Yes.”

I wrench my dagger free of its scabbard on my back and slash the air in front of me, but I’m too late. The bitch is gone.

“Come out and fight me!” I howl, my voice lupine with frustration.

“I knew that if I told Morden to say your sister was still alive you’d come skipping into my trap. You see, I’ve been hunting your kind down for the past decade and you’re the last one left.”

Meaning I’m the last one on earth that can kill her. The magic blood of the Daughters of the Moon paired with my daggers are the only things in existence that has the power to kill a Witch or Warlock. If I die, the world is defenceless against these vile creatures, they’d be free to murder and plunder all they wish. I can’t let that happen.

She’s nowhere to be seen in the hallway, which means there’s only one place she can go. Without thinking I hurl myself up the staircase, my feet taking several steps at a time.

“You killed my mother and my sister! I will kill you for this Witch!”

My heartbeat rings out in my ears and I rush into one of the open rooms on the landing. Once inside, I walk slowly through the room analysing every possible escape route. Once I have her I can’t let her get away again. I’ve waited too long for this.

“You’re honestly telling me that after all this time searching you’re going to hide away? Not the terrifying Witch warrior I heard you to be it seems.”

Provoking her is a dangerous move but I’ve got to try it, I’ve grown tired of waiting for my revenge. I hear a hiss down the hall, her voice getting closer.

“Do you want to hear about how they screamed? Oh, how they begged for their lives, it was music to my ears!”

I drop into a crouch and angle my dagger in front of me, poised to kill. She appears in the doorway and the words she says next almost break me.

“I think I still have a particularly lovely potion in the basement with some of their body parts in, if you’d like to see what’s left of them?” Nysgar says, venom leaking from every pore of her viridian skin.

I dive toward her slashing and piercing the air with my dagger as I go. The blood pounds in my ears and my only thought is that I must kill her. She snaps her fingers and my dagger plunges into thin air and I growl with frustration.

I feel an icy cold hand grasp my wrist, my dagger slips out of my hand and drops to the floor with the shock of it. Nysgar lets out a low chuckle as she slings me across the room, my body landing on the floor like a broken ragdoll.

“You’re going to have to do much better than that, Darling.”

Before I can draw breath, she’s hovering over me, her yellow eyes dancing at the blood gushing from my leg.

“I’m going to enjoy this very much,” she says, readying her iron claws to strike at my jugular.

This is not the way I’m going to die. There’s no way in hell I’ve come this far to not get revenge for what this vile bitch did to my family. In that moment, I remember the dagger I hid up my sleeve earlier. I shimmy it down into the palm of my hand and with my last ounce of strength, I plunge the blade into Nysgar’s throat.

Nysgar snatches her hand away and starts clawing at the dagger lodged in her windpipe, her screams guttural as she drowns in her own blood.

“I told you I’d kill you for what you did,” I say, smiling as her body slumps to the floor. 

Desperately Seeking Batman

I poke my head out the window and smell the night air, the taste of it crisp on my tongue. I grab onto the drainpipe, my hand nearly recoiling from the cold. This doesn’t stop me and I swing myself fully out and begin to shimmy down, the drip of the water coaxing me towards the ground. My foot dangles in search of somewhere to rest but I can’t see. Not even the light from my bedroom window illuminates my route. Everything is black.
 The thickness of the dark sends a shudder rolling through my body. It reminds me of my 13th birthday. The day my dad died. I remember crying so hard that I thought my eyeballs would fall out when my step-mother told me. I thought she’d give me a hug. But to this day I still remember her hand as it hit my face; the feeling of my brain vibrating in my skull; the rapid beating of my heart as she chased me into the tiny cupboard on the landing. My body being crushed between the towels and linen like an unwanted rag.
 I hit the ground with a thud and take off running across the lawn like a horse out of the starting box, my slinky Cat-Woman costume lending me cover in the night. My salvation idles on the corner of Bridge Street in the form of Mary in her mum’s crappy Ford Fiesta. As I near it the back-door swings open and I launch my body into the back seat, slamming it behind me.
 “That crazy old bat lock you up again, hon?” Selene, Mary’s mum scowls at me from the driver’s seat.
 “I got a B on a test, a B! Annie and Drew fail tests all the time but you don’t see them getting grounded.”
My stepsisters are about as sharp as a bowl of jelly but she adores them.
“I swear Cind, one of these days I’m going to pack your bags and take you with me.” She smiles at me through the mirror. I know she’s lying but I appreciate the thought.
I lean back and she accelerates too quickly, my need to get away from this place disappearing with each gear change. The wretched woman locks me up every other week, but I refuse to be a caged hen tonight. It’s the Gotham Knights conference, which is the place to be for comic enthusiasts everywhere. I’d worked for months on my Cat-Woman costume and I’ll be dammed if I let her ruin it. I gaze out the window as the houses race by.
 I’m doing this. I’ve broken free.

We enter the Town Hall twenty minutes later. I praise Selene’s reckless driving for getting us here in record time, even if there was an incident with a red light and an elderly man that I will not be repeating any time soon. I feel giddy with excitement as I look around. Disco balls hang above me, the light reflected creating little rainbows that dance and dip over the walls, while characters from my favourite comic books shimmy and shake on the floor to the time of an unfamiliar pop song.
“Cindy? You good?” Mary says, her voice shaking me out of my reverie.
“Chill, none of your sisters’ friends are going to be here tonight. They think it’s a total dork fest.” Mary laughs as she walks toward the dance floor, beckoning me with her finger to join her.
 I shake my head as I breathe in deeply, the scent of popcorn and hotdogs provoking gurgles from my stomach. I point to the buffet to signal where I’ll be.

 I grab a plate from the side and start piling it as high as I can. A tower of mini hotdogs, French fancies and cocktail sausages starts to appear on my plate.
“I’m guessing someone’s hungry?”
 I turn quickly towards the voice and see a tall guy dressed head to toe in a full Batman costume.
 “Yeah? What’s it to you?” My naturally defensive stance kicking in as I cram a third mini pizza into my mouth.
 “I’m not judging! Honestly. I like a girl who can eat.” The left side of his lip hitches up in a smile. Great, he’s flirting. Just what I need. I’m about to roll my eyes but he keeps talking.
 “Listen, have we met before?”
 I look him up and down once more and pause on his crisp green eyes. Something about them seems so familiar to me but I can’t put my finger on why.
“I don’t think so…”
 He smiles slightly at this and takes hold of my elbow.
“Come with me.” he says, steering me toward the exit.
Faint alarm bells ring in my head, I swear there’s a reason you’re not supposed to follow strangers into mysterious places?
 “You’re not going to murder me, are you?” I blurt.
 “Why would I do that?” he says, his eyes dancing with unanswered questions.
 “I don’t know. Why does anyone kill someone? Money? Fame? Or if you’re a proper psycho it could be for plain old fun.”
 “You talk a lot. You know that right? Just look, okay?”
 I break away from him slightly and look out across the carpark. I’m starting to feel like I’ve been led on a wild goose chase, but that’s when I see it. I don’t know what it is at first but then I can make out legs, a bushy tail and a coat that resembles the colour of a midsummer sunset, and then two cubs trotting anxiously behind her.
 “I found them in the woods a couple of weeks back, the vixen was injured from a hunting attack. I thought I’d bring them here and watch them until she’s okay again.”
 He looks at me then, his eyes exploring each plane of my face. He’s dissecting me piece by piece; I look away to avoid his gaze.
 “Who are you anyway? Why drag me away from the party to show me this?” I say, panicking slightly.
“I thought you of all people would understand why you needed to see this. And, really, Cindy? You don’t recognise me yet? I’m disappointed.” He turns sideways to face me, giving me his full attention.
 I stare at him, my eyes lingering on his lips, one of the only parts of his body that’s visible to me through his costume. Something about him seems so familiar but I don’t know why. He showed me the foxes because he knows I’m like the vixen, wounded but still breathing. But how could he know that? I’ve only just met him.
He grabs onto my waist suddenly and pulls me close, heat flickers at the tips of my fingers. His face swoops to mine and our lips touch, the flame erupting through my body like an inferno. He pulls away too quickly and I keep my eyes closed to savour the moment. When I open them again panic rises in my throat.
 He’s gone.
 “Wait!” I yell. “I don’t even know your name!”
 The only thing that confirms he existed is the Batman mask sitting on the ground by my feet.