#And no one will answer even if they could help so wtfever

[olimabelss]

Should I, or should I not, quit my job without having something else lined up?

[awfully-sadistic]

3-Thing Series: #1

I’m still classifying these as “on the spot” but they’re based off 10 prompts with three things. I don’t know. Wtfever. 

Prompt:

1) a chipped teacup, a crumpled note, a stormy night.

The terrible combination of thunder and lightning may frighten some with weak constitutions and even weaker nerves, but Dot Dreadful was not pulling up to the almost crumbling mansion as her disabled alter. It was an adventure even getting here watching the dance between claps and streaks under her windshield that Misi might not have made the drive, much less attempt to knock on the front door as soon as sie arrived. Sometimes, being the face for your own company had its ups and downs. However, being the only employee available to deliver a product to a new client seemed like a downer but Dot liked meeting her clients sometimes. At least, that was the attitude she kept in mind as she got out of her SUV and ducked the pouring rain and intimidating gales threatening to lift her off her heels and carry her away. To anyone that might have been watching, Dot was just a blur as she hurried to find shelter under the stone archway that covered the landing. It seemed sort of cliché that she would be summoned to an eerie castle amongst the stormy night.

It was even more cliché staring at a gargoyle doorknocker. The object was heavy in Dot’s hand making it feel authentic. She knocked once. Then, twice. There wasn’t a need for the third time. As soon as she aimed to knock again, the front doors swung open. She wasn’t amused to see that no one was inside waiting for her. But a nice butler would have helped. She’d even take a grouchy one as long as there had been someone there.

Emptiness peered back at her as she looked out into the foyer. Even with her enhanced senses, the darkness was murky at best and she wanted to avoid looking around too much in case she saw something that freaked her out. She had a bad feeling about going inside as it should have been. She stilled and looked around outside, taking nervous glances to her right and then to her left. Was this even the right address? Shit, she had left the note in her passenger cupholder, crumpled, because she was positive she had memorized the address. She knew she had the address; her memory and her pride in her memory prevented her from being wrong.

She was supposed to pick up a wrong package from this address. There had been an easy transition on the phone when she spoke to…whoever the fuck she spoke to. So, why weren’t they here waiting for her? Did the open doors mean for her to just mosey on in? Dot wasn’t an impatient person, but she didn’t like standing outside the front of someone’s house in the middle of a storm. She could handle herself, she was a big girl but why the fuck didn’t she think to bring someone, anyone, along?

Most of her deliveries or pick- ups didn’t go like this, that’s why.

“Hello?” Dot called out sounding as nonchalant as she could. She had an overactive imagination and a seemingly empty mansion on a dark and stormy night called back to all the scary stories and video games in her memory banks that had them playing out like a movie. She didn’t need the shake in her thoughts transferring out into her voice. “I’m from Death, Wrath, and Beyond.”

Instead of a reply, Dot got an answer in the form of a light turning on somewhere down a hall. She expected someone to be coming because that’s what it seemed like; another light turned on ahead of it, and then another… and then another until it stopped at the foyer landing. She took a step back because it appeared as if the lights followed an invisible person who was supposed to be standing in front of her now.

She knew her clients were mostly supernatural. After all, who else could cater to them? Dot prided herself on being a jack-of-all-trades in getting her clients everything from human parts (legally and sometimes illegally obtained) to simple, human enjoyments such as DVDs and accompanying popcorn and candy selections. Further, certain supernatural clients can’t go out in the real world without being persecuted due to their appearance or being an endangerment to humans. Sometimes, clients tried turning over a new leaf on swearing off humans but miss the man-made attractions and indulgences and sometimes clients just liked their privacy. This must be one of those recluse clients of hers.

Dot wasn’t spooked too often but the environment didn’t help. “May I come in?” she asked, sounding pleasant despite wanting to turn back around and drive home. She wasn’t certain if she was talking to a ghost but by now, something would have appeared in front of her.

“Please.” The voice was surprisingly gentle, quiet. Perhaps not to startle her by its suddenness. Yet it surprised her when what she heard and what she saw was further inside the mansion, standing just above her shrouded in darkness and shadows. It was trying very hard to hide, even Dot’s enhanced eyesight couldn’t penetrate the cover.

It must be a part of the client’s defenses, Dot idly thought as she took a step inside, craning her head back to get a better look at the client. He used the staircase as a means to keep the guest to his house comfortable by standing up there, but it just made Dot that much more curious about him. Against the railing, trying as much as it could to not be imposing, still, it stood tall and hunched over as to not hit the ceiling because she had to guess, if it straightened, he would have surely gone through it. She almost gasped at how huge he was from what little she could make out; his shadow looked to be about three Patriarchs wide.

But that was bad manners. She didn’t come here to gape.

Her client, from what she could gather, was a he and was draped in a cloak that covered his entire body wrapped tightly around himself. He walked along with her, slowly matching her footfalls from his place above her and it surprised her that she couldn’t hear a sound. His footsteps should have been heavy but, he wasn’t.

“I’ve come for your return,” she finally said, her voice as brisk as the business she wanted to wrap up, “and I’m incredibly sorry about the mix-up.”

“Are you the woman with whom I spoke on the phone?” he asked, his voice spoken as smooth as velvet and as deep and dark as he looked. It was pleasant, Dot decided. It pulled a smile on her lips and she nodded despite not knowing if he could make the gesture out from his perch behind the staircase railing.

“Yes, I’m Dot Dreadful.” There was a clatter or what was closer to a heavy thud that shook Dot enough to look around and wonder where the sound came from. It just didn’t occur to her it might have came from her client. “What was that?”

There was a pause and Dot didn’t think her host had heard her. But he surprised her when he finally spoke to admit, “…My feet.”

Dot’s eyebrow sprang up and she knew she looked perplexed; she just hoped the darkness covered up her expression. “Uh?”

“The package,” he changed the subject. “I’ve put it in the sitting room just beyond the lights. They should show you the way.”

Dot didn’t ask why he didn’t show her himself, but she shrugged and started to follow the path of lights she watched turn on one by one. The home was well-kept despite being drowned in darkness. The lights from the wall fixtures gave off enough to give her an idea of where she was going but if she strayed from the path, she was sure she’d get lost. The place seemed that vast. She finally walked into a sitting area aptly named considering there wasn’t a place you couldn’t rest your ass. But it didn’t seem overly crowded; it just seemed, unused. The package, a small cardboard box, was sitting on a table next to some decorative china; a plate, a fork, and a chipped teacup. Dot picked up the package and turned around. She was startled as her eyes landed on a huge, imposing shadow standing right above her.

It took her a few seconds to register that the host had followed her from his path upstairs. How odd was it that the entire second story followed the first floor? Was it even stranger to her that she didn’t hear him approach her at all? She swallowed thickly, watching the unmoving shadow head-on. She was at a vantage where she could see him just a tiny bit better but without the use of lights and that strange shroud of dark gloom he held around himself like a security blanket, it was hard to see any features at all. He really was just a mass of blackness. A huge, lurking shadow.

“May I ask what was wrong with the product?” she asked, trying to sound casual and not at all creeped out.

“It was the wrong DVD.” He admitted in a semi-contemplative tone.

The answer was so simple, Dot stood there in a stupor for about a minute.

“I apologize for the mix-up,” she was able to recover with a slight smile. “If I could ask, what DVD were you expecting? I’ll just go out and get it and come right back, you don’t have to wait until tomorrow.”

“It’s storming.”

“Ah, yeah, you’re right. It has been really bad today.” Dot said, taking a glance around the room. It had momentarily lapsed her mind considering this encounter. She was looking for a window, but all the curtains were drawn. She turned to face her host again, giving him a smile. She hoped the gesture wasn’t wasted considering she wasn’t sure if she was smiling at him or his back or what.

“That’s alright, though. It was our mix-up. It shouldn’t be a big deal. I’ll just leave and come back really quick.”

“I must insist you stay until the storm clears up,” her host suggested. He didn’t sound threatening, more nervous if anything. She was touched that he’d even offer.

“Thanks, but I’m sure it’s no big deal. I drove out here—”

“It was storming that bad on the road?”

Dot hesitated. The way he asked made her feel sheepish on replying, sort of like, she should not have been on the road because she should have taken into consideration her own safety. But perhaps she was reading too much into it; meeting new clients was nice and everything until she had to have conversations. Reading a person’s tone was… tough. There were way too many ways to interpret a client’s words.

“Uh, yeah.” She answered with a slight laugh. “I think the weather reports say it’ll be storming all week. Something about monsoon season—”

“Then I must definitely insist you stay until the sky is clear again,” her host interjected. It drew Dot into a silence before she cleared her throat.

“Ex…Excuse me?” she wasn’t sure she heard right, but she thought she’d ask anyway. “Until the sky is clear? The reports say it won’t be for another week, I can’t stay here for a week.”

There was another thud, the same she had heard out in the landing. She looked around. The sound didn’t just happen once, like before. It was shaking the light fixtures overhead and some of the paintings on the wall rattled as their frames tapped against it. Another thud. And another. It was in succession to footsteps and by the time Dot realized, her gaze shot to the overhead stair banister, but the shadowy figure was no longer there.

The thuds she was hearing were footsteps, she was certain now. She was used to heavy footsteps, but these were “rattle everything, the house is going to collapse” heavy. Dot didn’t think there was anything to compare them to, perhaps the closest thing being a Patriarch’s footsteps—when they were angry.

By the time Dot’s thought process went to RUN OUT OF THE HOUSE, it was too late. Her only exit was barred by the entirety of the being’s figure. She couldn’t see past it, hell, she couldn’t see most anything around it. The only thing she could do it take a frightened step backwards, body in the beginning stages of fight or flight—

“Don’t be frightened,” her oh-so gracious host tried to reason. Dot almost scoffed but the soothing tone in his voice did sound sincere. She was weary but that didn’t mean she was letting her guard down at all. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“It’s just a storm,” she replied. “If you’re that worried, I’d just call my fiancé to come get me.”

One of them, she figured. It wouldn’t take an entire army and that’s what it would be if she spilled the beans about being held against her will in some weirdo’s house. She was in the middle of reaching for her phone when he spoke again.

“You… have a special someone?” he asked, and Dot’s hands paused. He sounded… hurt. He tried to make it sound like he wasn’t interested but there was definite interest there and disappointment. “Of course you do,” he amended. “someone as beautiful as you must have someone who adores you.”

Dot didn’t try to flush under the compliment. She couldn’t even see this weirdo’s face or any other feature about him, but his voice was making up for it. The forlorn way he spoke made it obvious there was stock in how he felt about relationships. Perhaps even about love. It made her curious about what type of, er, client, he was.

“Yes, I do…” Dot admitted. Did he want to talk about that? What the hell did he want? “They’ll worry if I’m not back…” she pushed. Perhaps that would appeal to a reasonable side if he were trying to hold her hostage.

“I’m not trying to hurt you,” he said, seemingly understanding her point. “I am just worried.”

“…About what? The storm?”

“About you.”

Dot laughed, “Why? You…. don’t know me.”

“You sounded so nice over the phone.”

She laughed again, feeling something like pity. “I mean, I’m not…a mean person.”

She remained silent and tried to take a good look at her client. He was still filling up the doorway, making it impossible for anything to get past. The shadowy being that he was seemed eerily still as if he were watching her back. It made Dot feel self-conscious. What was he thinking? Besides about her safety. What did he want? She couldn’t give him anything. The only conclusion she could come to was that he seemed lonely. Dot was an empathetic person but that extended to Family. Her clients got only preferential treatment above strangers but that’s about where the line was drawn. It was ridiculous that her heart was reaching out for this lonely… shadow thing. But then again, none of her clients ever pulled anything like this with her before.

There was always a detached transaction when dealing with her customers. If she thought about it, this was the first time she was having any sort of “heart-to-heart” with a client. If this even counted.

“You do seem like a good person,” he admitted, breaking her thoughts.

Dot laughed. He really didn’t know her. “Honey, I’m just working.”

“But you offered to exchange my DVD for my right one, right away.”

Dot’s mouth pursed together. Okay, so she didn’t have to do that but that was just good business sense, especially when her company err’d in the first place. She didn’t want to argue that, so she tried changing gears. “Okay, but I do need to get home before my loved ones start to worry about me. Especially in this storm.”

If the shadow-thing had a face, she was sure he was concentrating. The silence that followed his words made it seem like he was a careful person; he was someone that thought before speaking.

“Why would they let you go out in the storm in the first place?”

“Ah, that would be my stubborn ass.” She grinned. “I could have left this up to someone else, but there was no one in the office to pick up the order and it would have been done tomorrow. I told you over the phone, it’d be done today. So…” Dot’s arms came up as if presenting herself, “Ta-dah! I’m here.”

Dot could have sworn the thing smiled at her.

“You are nice.”

“Nice and dumb kind of run a fine line,” Dot joked.

The room grew five degrees colder, she could swear. She looked around for the source of the draft, not yet understanding it was coming from in front of her.

“Do you insult yourself a lot?” he asked, quietly. Darkly.

Dot stopped looking around, yet her hands rubbed her arms as she nodded, “Not… seriously, though. I do need to stop, I know. It’s just a habit.”

“A bad habit. Someone who cares for you should teach you better.”

Dot bristled under the tone; as if he knew anything about her and her loved ones. “Alright, look, it’s time for me to leave—”

“I don’t think you should.”

Dot’s jaw almost dropped, “…That’s not up to you.”

“You are a guest in my house.”

“…And I want to leave.”

In the first time since stepping into the mansion, Dot felt uncomfortable. She supposed it should have been when the front door swung open by itself. Or even before, when it started storming. Or even before that, when she answered the phone. She started to look for another exit. It was her luck that the room she was trapped in had only one exit and the thing, whatever it was, had been blocking it from the beginning. Perhaps even planned on her coming into this room.

“I didn’t plan this,” he said, seemingly reading her thoughts. His tone turned thoughtful as he added, “It’s all over your face. I had planned on having this be an easy transaction. You were supposed to come and go. But I see now, this is just like how the stories say. You were fated here, just like the movie.”

“What… are you talking about?” Dot was almost afraid to ask. She didn’t want to know but it just came tumbling out of her mouth. Perhaps something would start making sense if he explained.

The shadow which had seemed to be so still before started to shift. It was a slow transition at first. He began to take a shape, a monstrous shape, full of jagged points and rough edges, red eyes that stared into the very depths of your soul. Tearing sounds followed by sharp white teeth in a gaping maw that promised the sweet release of death from the horror that rooted you to your spot and glinting nails that formed claws that could easily reach into your chest and pull your heart out from inside, still beating yet as red and pristine as the fullest rose in bloom. There was something so vaguely familiar about it, Dot couldn’t place a finger on why until he uttered a phrase that only she could hear that it came together. He was starting to take a shape, a form, and it was all unraveling, unveiling, before her eyes. Like in the scene where Beauty sets her eyes upon the Beast for the first time as he steps into the light and understanding that she gave herself up to this, to become his prisoner, her host was stepping closer and the thud she realized having been his footsteps were oddly silent now.

Her eyes sliced to the ground to see that he hovered just barely, nails from his monstrous clawed feet skimming above the polished floors. That’s why he was able to not make a sound as he moved above her.

“…What are you?” she asked, kicking herself because why the fuck did she want to know? Yet she couldn’t help but ask.

It was her regret when he honestly answered in a way that alerted her that her gracious host was some poor deluded being living in a fantasy world that could never be his reality unless he made it. And he intended on making it.

“Yours.”