769...773...777...781...

769...773...777...781...

No 779. Where was it? 776, and 782. Not across the street. 785, not out of order either.

Adelon lifted the tag on the backpack towards the streetlamp to check the address again.

779 Cherry Street, Honesty Washington. A neatly written address on a tag telling any who found the backpack to return it to its owner, the Astral Cat Tavern.

How a tavern had lost a backpack on the other side of the country was beyond Adelon. All he knew was he had been on this crusade of curiosity too long to give up now.

Turning back to the houses. 777, then 781. Not just that, but this was the middle of a street in the suburbs. Every house eerily similar in appearance with its neighbors. One would think a tavern here would be easier to see than a flare over the open sea on a calm night.

Adelon stood and stared into the darkness between the houses for a time, until the moon peeked from behind the clouds to see what he was staring at.

A sparkle of silver drew Adelon's focus back to the tag. Where the moonlight touched it, a set of silver symbols was beginning to appear.

Adelon placed the tag further within the grasp of the moon, revealing the secret writing. As Adalon tried to understand the strange symbols a bubble of odd and twisting energy built up inside his chest. Then it floated up his throat and burst, releasing an unspeakable word of an unknowable realm from his lips.

A soft yellow glow joins the midnight lighting. Adelon turned to look, to see which house awoke. As his eyes began to search the newly lit window for life a sign flickered with beckoning light. Neon blue creating a circular pattern in the window, then one by one as if each had to be lit with its own switch neon red numbers came to life. 7...7...9.

Leaving the street lamp behind Adelon shouldered the bag and made his way across the moonlit street to the darkened doorway that stood at the end of his crusade.

The door was heavy and wooden. An icon of a cat sat in faded paint upon it, watching Adelon's approach. It had two pure white eyes and what appeared to be a pale four pointed star on its forehead. Its tail, wrapped around its feet, a twin-split appendage.

No handle was present on the door, and the stare of the icon warned one against the rapping of knuckles upon its head. Instead, once more, the alien word writhed and floated up through Adelon's chest. As if a password to a hidden world beyond. No sooner had the word wrenched itself from him again, the door opened, granting Adelon entry to the building.

Beyond the open portal was a room with a scattering of empty tables and an unmanned bar. An array of strangely colored bottles and liquid resting on shelves and in tubes.

"Hello?"

A hesitant greeting paired with the creaking of wooden floorboards announced Adelon's entry.

He weaved through the tables and chairs as he looked around for any signs of life.

"We're not open yet."

Adelon whirled to spot the owner of the rumbling voice but saw only a purple cat sat upon the bar. Its tails wrapped around its feet as it stared at Adelon with shimmering yellow eyes.

Adelon stared at the living icon from the door. Then called out once more into the hostless bar as he closed the distance to the cat.

"I found your bag!"

Adelon shifted the bag from his shoulder to the bar-top as the cat-like creature stared at him unblinking. No sign of the person who had spoken before.

Adelon stared back into the yellow orbs and blinked when he realized the black pupils were four-pointed stars. As he blinked and backed away a little, those eyes shifted to the backpack and narrowed into crosshairs.

Then it moved, and as it moved it rumbled, and is it rumbled the voice spoke again.

"Thank you. It took more time to come back then usual."

Adelon stood frozen for a moment as he realized the rumbling voice came from the cat-thing.

It sniffed the bag, satisfying its own curiosity.

"Seems you've traveled a fair distance, there and back again," the cat addressed the bag.

Adelon stabbed at the opportunity to regain his grasp on the moment.

"I found it under a bench at a bus station on the other side of the country."

The pale gaze returned to him briefly before a nod acknowledged his addition. Then the twin-tail dipped below the bar and returned with a silver bell in its grasp.

"I didn't open it," Adelon added trying to chop at the silence, "it doesn't really have a zipper so I couldn't even if I had wanted to... so..."

Adelon was unsure of how to speak with the animalistic creature.

The cat nodded, again.

The tails flicked toward the backpack. The bell, when rung reverberated and echoed, it's metallic tone seeming to travel through time more than space. It started low then rose to a high-pitched 'ting-ting' before returning to its lower pitch as if a temporal doppler had carried it to this specific moment.

As the sound struck across time-space, the bag began to twist and writhe before unzipping in a burst of motion at the height of the bells ring.

Bone white marionette pieces flew from the backpack onto the floor, and their shadow gave aggressive chase as they clattered between the chairs. The shadow zipped over them, gathering them up within it's darkness.

As it tumbled to a stop with all its parts recovered, the shadow turned and hissed at the two observers. A panther-like face providing a maw for the radio static roar to emerge from.

The tails flicked the bell again, causing the ting-ting to echo back across time into this new moment.

The shadow-creature pulled away from the sound, then up into a standing position. The clicking sounds of marionette pieces being fitted together accompanying the shift from predator to person.

A woman with ebony skin and hair like black sheep's wool wore the darkness like a velvet dress and silken shawl.

"Naut." She referred to the cat.

"Lucy Bell." it purred the name in reply.

"Sorry for running away for so long. I just wanted to get out and see some places."

A pause between the shadow's speaking and the rumbling replies.

"Good places can be just as soothing for the soul as good people." The cat rose to walk across the bar again and gave Adelon a side eye as it spoke.

Lucy Bell's steps clacked as she rushed to take her place behind the bar. Her hair sinched into a bun with a pull of black ribbons, her dress sewing itself into a suit-vest, shirt, and pants as she took her position on Naut's right hand.

"Take a seat, stranger."

The twin-tails swept in the direction of a stool before wrapping around the feet of the cat once more.

Adelon sat.

Naut smelled his hands.

"You smell faintly of squid, boy. Squid and blood."

The crosshairs focused on him for a moment before expanding into stars.

"Have you ever tried unicorn's blood?"

The tails slithered away, as Adelon shook his head slowly. A third tail appeared to assist with carrying a bottle into the hands of Lucy Bell.

An ice-filled glass settled on the bar-top and a metallic pink liquid shimmering with glitter filled it. A graceful hand placed a garnish of blue butterfly wings in the place of an umbrella.

A tail pushed the drink to Adelon.

"As thanks for a good deed done. Welcome to the Astral Cat Tavern, friend."

Abe moved at a brisk pace as he weaved around the edges of rooms filled with party goers. He made sure to keep the drink in his hand from spilling even though he hadn't touch it in the 10 minutes since it had been handed to him by the hostess of the party. He honestly didn't even remember her name, it was something that started with an S, or maybe a V. He moved on. He'd come to this party with a purpose far foreign from socializing.

He threw a glance acrossed the crowded rooms to check if his date, Jordan, had noticed his absence. Although Abe doubted it since Jordan was three drinks in by the time he had chosen to make his move. From the fumes wafting off the cup of jungle juice in his hand he doubted Jordan would be noticing anything for the rest of the night. Just the smell was making him nauseous and he left the highly caloric cup in an opening on a side table before squeezing his rail thin form between a couch and a couple making out against the wall.

Past the couch and sliding down the hallway between partygoes like a paper flower between the pages of a book he arrived at the end of a year long search. A seemingly dark oak door boasted a paper sign with the words "Do Not Enter" printed on it. Abe entered.

In the dark, unoccupied study, Abe began his search. His phone became a flashlight as he scoured the spines of shelved books.

There near the corner on the lowest shelf, where Abe had to drop to his knees to see clearly, was a maroon book bound in a strange material. The spine was blank, giving it the appearance of a journal. Pulling it out, the cover was blank too, except for a small red stamp in the bottom left corner. It appeared to be a small star with 8 points, the triangles that made up the points each having two small dots in them, and in the center was a swirl made of 3 lines. Abe had found his quarry.

His flashlight became a reading light as he poured over the contents of the journal whilst sitting on the floor. He flipped frantically through pages only half reading one before moving on to the next until he found the ritual he was looking for. He then rose from the ground and crossed the room to the desk.

On his way he saw a flash of light and jumped. He turned his flashlight only to see a small mirror on the wall of the study and within the mirror a reflection of himself. Skinny, not a healthy skinny but not as skinny as he would have liked. Black painted nails with the middle finger painted electric blue. Messy black hair. He knew if you looked closely enough a small line of black eyeliner could be seen under his eyes. Hazel eyes like his sister's. He scowled at the mirror then turned back to the journal, back to his ritual.

He lifted his shirt revealing a thin hidden travel bag underneath and began pulling things from it as he read the instructions from the ritual. Many of the components he had been able to ascertain from his previous findings but only now did he have the full ritual. He began mixing things in an empty ash tray on the desk, grinding them together with the butt of a small pocket knife he had brought with him. A reddish paste emerged and using the edge of his knife Abe began to draw with it upon the mirror.

Symbols to match those depicted in the book. Strange words that felt foreign to his tongue became easier to pronounce as the ritual progressed. What little light there was began to fade from the room. In deep shadow Abe scraped and muttered as the faint ruddy glow of the runes reflected from the lightless depths of his scorned canvas. Then silence.

The light of the runes blurred, twisting themselves into the void upon which they had been painted. Then they reached. They reached from the mirror to the reflected soul who stood before them. Abe reached back.

Tentacles of red mist coiled and tugged. Extending like an umbrella from their canvas they enveloped the seeker embracing him in ruby darkness.

Abe felt from deep within him his soul pulled into a hug that seemed to lull him to sleep. He blinked slowly, lazily. Once, then twice, then again. Then he saw.

Before him, amidst pools of ruby light, was a short but grande staircase that led to the base of a throne that stretched up into the darkness, and sat upon that throne was a pale figure dressed in reds and blues, and blacks, with their sweeping robes flowing to cover their feet and the ground before them, but open enough to reveal their chest though not their gender, and neither did the face framed in silken silver hair reveal itself to be male or female, kind or cruel, angry or compassionate, it simply gazed upon the mortal soul that had trespassed into its domain. It called to Abe.

"Who are you?"

The voice was soft as silk as it flowed around and filled the space like waves of water.

"I am Abe."

"What do you want, Abe?"

"I want to become a vampire."

The figure leaned forward, it's robes swaying as if legs were uncrossed but the skirt continued to shift and twitch as if it held a life of its own. Piercing eyes bore into Abe's as the deep, silken voice flowed through the space once more.

"Why come to me with such a request?"

Abe swallowed, feeling pressure unlike any he had faced in life before. He opened his mouth to recite a speech practiced 100 times, nay 1000 times, but paused. The consequences of all he had done, or rather all he had failed to do in his 26 years of life lay before him. The force of the entity's gaze squoze from his tattered soul the last few drops of honesty. Tears began to fall from his face.

"I want the pain to end. Every day I see my failures. I am hungry and do not feed. I stretch and stretch myself to fit another's frame. I paint myself to hide my scars. Every time I look in the mirror I see my sister in my eyes. Recently they've started to look like her's right before her final breath."

Abe wiped away the tears and met the steely gaze.

"I don't want to die. I don't want to see my scars. I don't want to see her in the mirror, or in my dreams. I want to be a vampire, because vampires don't have reflections. Vampires can't see their scars or flaws, so they can't see the pain behind them. They can forget and move on. Vampires are free from finding beauty in one's self."

The being nodded, and rose. It glided down the stairs it's skirt slithering like tentacles bound together by flowing fabric. The soft voice flowed as It approached Abe.

"Then from your reflection I will set you free. May your time with immortality allow your scars to fade, and your bleeding heart to heal. Although I warn the memories and their lessons never will. I shall give unto you what you seek and with it the gift of a name by which I shall call you by."

A gentle hand caressed Abe's face and found a grip within his hair, the otherworldly being's thumb pressed just before his ear. Then it tugged.

Abe winced expecting piercing teeth and flowing blood but was met with a hug. Gentle but strong arms and a cold chest with no heartbeat. An odd material wrapping itself around him, and clouds of inky darkness enveloping him. Then he felt the bite.

Pain pierced his heart for a moment but he felt no tearing of flesh, as if he had instead been struck in his soul. He gasped and pulled away from his entanglement. Stepping back and opening his eyes, he saw his reflection in the moonlit study mirror.

The pain began to fade as quickly as it came and he yanked at his shirt to reveal his chest in the mirror. Upon his chest, above his heart, was a blood red mark. A symbol, as if an eight pointed star, with each triangle of the star having two dots within it and the center being a swirl made of three lines. He raised a hand to touch the mark, but although he felt his hand make contact with his chest, he could not see the action reflected in that hated looking glass. His eyes widened, or at least he felt them widen, as his reflection revealed nothing to him anymore. The glassy mirror showing only an empty moonlit study.

Abe patted himself down, his body still the same it seemed but now reflectionless. His ritual complete he tucked his knife and journal within his hidden bag. Then slipped like a paper flower back into the crowd, a hitherto unseen, honest smile upon his face.

As the door closed behind him a silken voice flowed through the crack and found his ears, and he heard his name.

"Adelon."

Reblog to bonk your mutuals on the head every time they start thinking negatively about themselves

“i don’t want to self-diagnose” how do you think people end up finally getting diagnosed you silly cute little bean. self diagnosing is the first step.

can we talk about the shame that comes along with having ADHD?

the shame that hits you when you walk around your messy, cluttered room, knowing you don’t yet have the motivation or hyperfocus to clean it, even though you want to.

the shame that hits you when you retell a story for the thousandth time and the person you’re talking to gets bored or annoyed or confused by it, cuz you couldn’t remember you had told it before.

the shame that hits you when you ask someone to repeat what they’re saying multiple times because you keep forgetting or you just can’t hear them.

the shame that hits you when you forget something super important after you leave for a trip, and you ask to go back for it.

the shame that hits you when you know you’re overanalyzing something someone said to you, but it still hurts.

the shame that hits you when you snap at people who are just talking to you while you’re hyperfocused.

the shame that hits you when you realize you don’t remember jackshit about your life, you don’t have any memories, and you wonder what it was all like.

the shame that hits you when someone asks you to just shut up or sit still after you were just expressing your emotions, your happiness even, but were just a little too loud about it.

all the shame. over everything. we should talk about that all more.