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From: Harry & The ST
Date: 03 Dec 1999
Time: 10:54:19
Harry stands frozen for a second in Leila’s bedroom, staring aghast at the black-clad figure before him. The low hum in his head never disappears, it simply fades down to an inaudible level, as the thing reaches out with a pale hand to pick up its scythe from against the wall. As Harry slowly starts moving towards Leila in the bed, the gleaming eyes beneath the cowl look at him, awaiting.
“What do you want?”, Harry finds himself saying. As a response, the abstract droning tone in his head grows louder and forms a reply. The sound seems to be a name, but a question… The thing in black starts walking slowly around the bed in a circle, leaning on the scythe at each step, as Harry sits at Leila’s side watching over her. “I'm Harry. Who are YOU? And what do you want with her?” He looks at Leila, concerned. The tone in his head continues to change its frequency, rising and falling in pitch to form meaning. It claims it means no harm to the sleeper, yet the deep, warning tone from before is repeated. It warns against the winding roads of Fate, and Oblivion. Harry mumbles a low “What do you mean?”, as the thing walks back through the room and over to the window.
The black shape lets a white hand slip from its robes, and makes a slow, precise motion that the danger ahead is somewhere in the city. It turns his back to them to stare out into the night. Harry reels defensively, hovering over Leila, explaining his devotion to protect her, as the thing in turn, though the tone in his head, questions his proud words.
“I won't leave her...i don't trust you.” The shape turns its head slightly beneath the cowl. “Who are you? What are you doing here? Why are you going through all this trouble just for me and her?” Harry’s words start melting together in the darkened room. The cloaked figure turns around, but starts becoming indistinct before Harry’s eyes. As it fades away, like a shadow slowly exposed to light, Harry is left alone in the darkness. Leila whimpers once in her sleep.
“SHIT!” The lamp on Leila’s bedside table shatters, as Harry’s rage echoes across the shroud and to the edges of the void.