by D. J. H. III
What if pokemon jobs existed in real life? Plot: exorcism attempt. Setting: NYC
|I'd like to think of myself as a diligent student; I work hard, I listen, and I manipulate my body. I am fearless. Passionate too. In fact, I am able to do the things I do because of the guidance of my mistresses; this is why I work so hard.
I continue breathing and focusing, specifically at the white of my mistress's back. Our simple uniforms seemed to overpower this city, and the usual palette that inhabited it; even dormant cars looked desolate compared to our hakamas.
Our sandal-adorned feet clapped together with the friendly concrete, which gleamed like the stars on a lone seashell; the tips of light the crackled pavement gave off birthed even more newborns, and it bothered my foreign eyes. There were small patches of grass and greens to calm the artificial setting; even trees that surpassed us in height, supplying us humans with momentary relief from the blistering sky, accentuated the man-made forest of New York City.
This place had a nice amount of dull green and shiny grey.
I was usually hot in my hakama, but today was really important. Today, instead of diligently practicing [type of dance ritual], I'm now outside, following my mistress into the unknown: a paranormal resting site.
My body was uncomfortably uncomfortable, and my mind lacked a lot of our preparation; we had recently walked great miles to scout this fabled ghost site, and I'm going to have to blame my awkwardness on my nervousness. Even though I did maintain a professional tolerance to the sun, I was sweating. I was scared, and I realized that immediately, but this was a strange fear that I wasn't able to quell; I practiced while I continued our trek forward, but my mind was losing focus. All I could do was worry, and sightsee a bit.
On the horizon, the infamous shell of what used to be this city's greatest pride and hottest tourist attraction still managed to tower over the residents of New York City.
At first, I thought that it was forgivable for me to look around in the attempt to cool down, but now my conscious is plagued with shining guilt. I grimace as my soul returned to the familiar sight of my mistress's back, and to the sound of our rhythmic clicking. I follow her in through the door, and I was surprised when I entered.
Rumor has it, that many of the accidents that occurred here resulted from failed maintenance. The outside was far different from the inside, and that was not an understatement: the moment I went in, an aura of freezing air sucked every crevice for my body heat and I became instantaneously cold. I expected to see brown grime and muck inside somewhere, everywhere, but the floors were smooth and clean.
"I understand," I humbly nod with diligency, "I'll be there immediately."
"I trust you. Good day, young sister." My mistress offered me a small smile, and that made me leave faster with gumption. I turned and ignored my sisters that equally averted contact with me, and I was safe out if the room.
Down this narrow hallway, was the elevator that I couldn't stop looking at. I exhale, calming my thoughts, and when I remembered that I was in a hurry, I click my feet with a faster rhythm.
I clench the paper slip in my hand. A small tingle traveled down my back, and it filled me with gloom. I peered above, at the elevator's laborious indicator. It dinged, and I stepped a foot in. I was nervous being alone in this new environment, and you can't blame me for being afraid. Being in a city like this is too exotic for me.
Bryant Park was right across the Empire State Building.
and people kept dying, so I'm surprised that I'm surprised by the sight of this place.