[ TT ] [ WP ] Urban Fantasy : The Hunt Is On

It is the start of May. The day between the spring equinox and the summer solstice, and the world is bright. 
 
 The road are illuminated, not by the face of the moon, but by the spark of electricity upon wires made of tungsten. The stars no longer shine upon this land, not when it has no need of illumination when the moon turns aways. 
 
 In this land of false light and dead stars, fire exists, and yet it doesn ’ t. 
 
 It breaths from the flicking of a lighter, through the click of a stove, from the man-made coals that burn and burn. 
 
 But fire doesn ’ t live, not anymore. 
 
 Not in the bonfires of the old, nor in the flowers the shade of the flickering flame. 
 
 But the roads alive, living and breathing. 
 
 Cars and trucks, bikes and buses move along the road. Their headlights illuminate the streets, and beneath their wheels, sand catches, and flies. The sound of their engines echo throughout the land, and when they approach, no one looks upon them. 
 
 -- - 
 
 The festivals aren ’ t observed, not anymore. 
 
 Mankind has no need for protection in dark. 
 
 After all, in this land illuminated by metal and sparks, the dark doesn ’ t exist anymore. 
 
 -- - 
 
 On this date, the day between the spring equinox and the summer solstice, festivals of the old aren ’ t observed, no stock is placed in myths and legends, and no celebration takes place. 
 
 But still -- 
 
 -- a woman mistakes salt for sugar, and adds a liberal amount of the cookies she bakes. She doesn ’ t know why, as this isn ’ t a mistake that she has made in over forty years. But she doesn ’ t throw them away. Instead, she crushes them, and sprinkles them in the soil of the plants surrounding her house. She doesn ’ t know why, but she does it anyway. 
 
 -- a man rolls up the ‘ Welcome! ’ mat on his doorstep, and stows it away, deep inside a cupboard, far from any prying eyes. He doesn ’ t understand why he does it, but he does it anyway. 
 
 -- a young boy, together with his friends, set fire to a pile of newspapers in an empty area. The resulting flame flickers and dances, and for some reason he doesn ’ t know, he dances along with it. His friends look at him weirdly, but some dance along, and some don ’ t. 
 
 -- a young girl looks through her set of jewelry, and chooses one made of iron. This choice surprises her, for it doesn ’ t match her outfit. But she wears it anyways when she walks out of her house. 
 
 -- - 
 
 Remember this: 
 
 Celebrations do not create belief. Gods do not create men. Histories do not create myths. 
 
 Everything is there from the start. And will be there until the end. 
 
 -- - 
 
 The sound of the vehicles are defending, but they get softer and softer as time passes. 
 
 And then, when one can no longer hear the sound -- 
 
 -- a young girl stands to the side, wide eyed and pale, clutching her iron forged jewelry in her cold, sweaty palms. Her friend lies unmoving, on the road, with her lifeblood spilling out onto the unforgiving path. 
 
 -- a young boy hears screams, and smells burnt flesh. His friends who had sat at the side, away from the burning heat of the flames, scream as their clothing are set alight. But the young boy ’ s hands are shaking, and his legs are trembling, while he stares at the bright sparks of the bonfire beside him. 
 
 -- a man ignores the knocks upon his door, and hides in his bed. Soon the knocks on his door stops, and resumes next door. But the man ignores, and the ‘ Welcome! ’ mat that lies unopened on his cupboard doesn ’ t move, not even as the screams start to surround his home. 
 
 -- a woman takes her cookies out of her oven, this time filled with sugar, instead of salt. She wants to share them with her neighbours, but the thought of crossing her entrance way suddenly seemed displeasing to her. She thinks that she ’ ll do it the next day, although deep in her heart, she knows she won ’ t. 
 
 -- - 
 
 It is the start of May. The day between the spring equinox and the summer solstice. 
 
 And. 
 
 They. 
 
 Ride. 
 
 -- -
