Children of the Night

Devin Sola didn't wake up from a nightmare, he woke up into one.

The last thing he remembered was a fight. he had gone hoping to stop it. Someone brought a gun. Standing in the foggy, deserted alley, he remembered one more thing as he looked down at his hands. Blood. Lots of blood. His blood. It was all over him.

'I'm dead' was his first though.

'Am I dead?'

He looked around for some sign of human life, but the intense fog cut off his line of vision a few feet in front of him.

'This must be Hell', because he was certain he wouldn't be put anywhere else.

'Maybe I'm just in a coma'.

The pinch that he gave to his arm delivered no pain. He should feel cold- he was always cold- but now, nothing. He couldn't feel his feet on the ground or the air in his lungs. He was standing, though, and that was a good sign. His legs were the most important, because if he couldn't run away, he couldn't survive (not that it really mattered now).

Once his physical inspection was finished (all fingers and toes accounted for), he tested his voice.

"Hello?" Still soft and quiet like always before.

It was pointless ever trying to argue with anyone, because as threatening as he tried to seem, Devin always sounded like a mouse.

He put one foot in front of the other and began walking in a random direction. it didn't feel like walking, it felt more like floating. He hadn't walked more than twenty feet when he heard something. It was some kind of yelling, but it was indistinguishable.

As he got closer, he realized it was a person yelling- having loud bursts of anger. The normal-looking man had long brown hair, and a handful of what looked like little glass trinkets. He was chucking them into the distance.

It was the angriest Devin had ever seen anyone.

He must have been imagining things, because some of the trinkets laying on the ground around the man would float up, and hurtle off into the distance themselves. The man looked over and yelled, "Fuck off!"

Devin was taken aback. Not because of the obscenity, but he thought he would be invisible now that he was a ghost.

"Can you see me?" He asked.

The man stopped what he was doing and turned to face Devin. "Are you on crack?"

Before Devin had any time to respond, a shard of glass laying on the ground floated up behind the man, then flung itself at him. Devin couldn't feel anything, but looked down to see if it was embedded in his skin, or if there was any blood. Maybe he could fake the amount of pain he should be in if he could see how much blood there was.

Only there wasn't any blood. The glass had apparently flown right through him. He turned around, and yes, it was laying a few feet behind him. Instead of taking a defensive side, he decided to attack.

"You didn't throw that!"

The man responded with a nonchalant "Yes I did", like he had practiced it a million times.

There was somewhat of an awkward silence, and Devin was contemplating whether he should turn around and run, when the other man finally said something.

"That glass went through you".

There was no point in denying it, the man had seen it with his own eyes. Instead, he just looked at him with his signature 'deer-in-the-headlights' stare.

The man spoke up again, "I have some friends you should meet."

"Can your friends answer my questions?"

"Maybe, maybe not. You'll just have to see for yourself." He said, and started walking away, looking behind his shoulder to see if Devin would follow.

He hesitated, and then started walking (floating) towards the mysterious glass-throwing man. "I don't even know your name, and I'm following you."

"Ryan", was all he said, as he kept his head faced forward and walked head-first through the fog as if he knew this place like the back of his hand.