“The night is the last frontier when it comes to monsters,” Fred thought as he walked down a creepy alley in the middle of the night.
He was around 40 years old, and reeked of depression. The times had been rough on him. Uncombed medium-length, dark brown hair and a poorly maintained beard passed as the side effects of his deteriorated mental health.
His breath created a short story every time he exhaled. It was a cold night indeed, one that could bring to life even a sick man’s inner distress.
“Even the homeless people found shelter somewhere warm,” he continued to talk with himself. His eyes scanned the vicinity in search of someone to talk to. Not even stray animals troubled themselves with him.
“What exactly am I doing here?” he thought, stopping to look at the overcast sky. A chilly breeze signaled the rain to come.
He wore a dark, winter coat, which seemed to shroud him in a protective bubble against harm, but also against human affection. He had black, leather gloves and a grey, cashmere scarf. His face looked like it had been through a hurricane. He had crater-like marks on his left cheek.
A green, eye-catching exit sign stuck out in the darkness. As he walked down the cramped alley at night, a shallow rain started out of nowhere. Rain drops fell down his winter coat like beads falling off a table.
“What do you want from me, man?”
A woman in her late 20’s shouted as she stormed out in tears. She seemed a bit drunk while Fred stopped. He hid behind a dumpster as the door behind her slammed shut.
“Hey, I thought you wanted to have some fun,” a male voice echoed around. It was a big guy weighing around 220 pounds. He followed the woman outside.
“What are they doing?” Fred watched them from a short distance. His right hand began to shake uncontrollably. “Not now, please.”
“Get off of me! I mean it!” Her companion’s sleazy behavior killed the entire mood.
“Don’t tell me you’re scared of me,” he said, using brute force to keep her next to him.
“I’m not but…” her voice trailed off. Her attention turned to Fred, who had stepped into the dim light cast by the exit sign.
“Who the hell are you?” the big guy asked, having turned to the mysterious bloke.
“Have you ever seen a flock of black butterflies?” Fred asked, keeping his hands to his back.
“Huh? The hell do you want?” He waved a beer bottle, spilling some of the liquor on the woman’s tight dress.
She scrunched her face. “Let’s go inside, Donny,” she intervened, trying to ease the tension.
Fred giggled. “Have you seen any around?” His demeanor changed to maniacal in a matter of seconds.
The big guy jabbed a finger at him. “Get out of here or I’ll make you disappear!”
“Forget him! Let’s go!” She started pulling his arm to make him move.
“Leave me alone, Terry!” He pushed her away. The woman fell on the ground and almost twisted her ankle.
The rain intensified. Slivers of water ran down Fred’s worn-out face. “You haven’t answered my question. Should I repeat it?” A few rebel hair strands covered his left eye.
“What is wrong with you?” Donny asked while he attempted an impulse-driven punch.
Fred cracked a smile. “Oh, so the brute wants to fight.”
He dodged to his right while Donny fell on the concrete alley in shame. The beer bottle exploded into a million pieces some of which were now etched into the big guy’s face.
“I’m calling the cops, you hear me!?” Terry shouted at the stranger, her eyes widening.
“Not so fast, woman!” Fred said, throwing a knife from out of nowhere.
“Terry!” Donny’s crippled voice couldn’t save her. He saw the woman’s body falling down in a pool of blood. He mustered his strength and tried to attack again.
Fred straightened the rebel hair strands. “I’m starting to see the black butterflies.”
“Damn you!” Donny hurled himself at the mysterious man. Terry’s death sent shockwaves through his body.
“There you go,” Fred said on a calm tone, having used a scalpel to cut an important vein on the man’s left arm. He had the speed advantage, even though his opponent was stronger.
Donny’s emotions bubbled up. “Are you a monster?” With his last strength, he tried to use the broken beer bottle to his advantage.
“Who knows?” Fred asked in a rhetorical manner, making a quick move with his scalpel again.
Donny’s sight began to get blurry. His righteous rage was crushed in an instant. He collapsed on his knees before falling face first in a pothole. Rain water combined with his blood in what seemed to be an artist’s attempt to paint Purgatory.
In the immediate aftermath, Fred knelt beside him. “If I may say so, your butterflies were wonderful”.
He wiped his scalpel clean with a cotton handkerchief, which he then threw on the ground next to the victim. The fight had been a crushing one-sided affair and left behind a messed up scene.
“I’ll get to enjoy this after all.”
An ominous smile remained plastered on his face as he emerged unscathed from the scuffle. He left the area like nothing happened. Only the soft squelching sound of his boots troubled the night.
If you liked this short horror story, you might also like “A dark reminder”. Enjoy the read!