My blood started boiling in the veins that contained it and my vision turned scarlet. How DARE someone steal MY prey? How DARE someone BARGE into my perfect moonlit night and STEAL my prey from right under my nose?? how DARE someone take what was to be MINE and make it their OWN???

These kinds of thoughts swirled and slithered about in my head, coiling and uncoiling like serpents who’ve smelled blood, but despite all the thoughts of grabbing a nearby shovel, smashing both the window and the thief who stole my prey's head in, I refrained. Instead, I started burning their looks into my head, for future reference. Their hair was long and some sort of dark colour, as despite the cool lighting I could not make out the colour as anything but was instead forced to simply call it dark, and they were dressed in some sort of evening gown. The dress was long, black and rather pretty. If only I had interest in women. I couldn’t see her face, but I could easily tell she was frankly stunning. I couldn't hear too well through the window, but she must have been humming some melody, I could tell. It was rather strange and off beat, but her head was swaying side to side in rhythm, meaning it must have been something she held dear. The red and beige squirming thing on the table was held down by hooks connected to weights threaded through her arms and legs which made her nearly immobile. I wanted to whistle a little catcall at her as a sort of “nice touch!” comment, but I was able to restrain myself.

However, my movements must have been noticed, as the red and beige squirming thing turned its distorted face my way, and I was regretfully enough stunned to the extent that we made eye contact. Its eyes, clouded previously by fear, regret, and pain, suddenly turned clear as the blue sky after a rainy day, and the corners of its mouth started tugging in an effort to turn into a hopeful smile, but I could tell it failed. Instead, I could faintly hear it yell “help help oh please god save me,” probably to me. The little pause between where she noticed me and where she yelled was noticed by the Thief, and she was just about to turn around when I dived back into the shadow of the night, leaving the house behind me.

I ran and ran and ran, no longer minding being noticed, until I had reached the apartment complex. I knew the Thief hadn't noticed me, that was impossible. She may not have noticed my face, but then again, I didn't exactly catch hers either. And so, neither won nor lost. Nothing lost, nothing gained. I trudged heavy-footed into my apartment, closing the door behind me with a deep and long sigh. What a night. I had expected to experience at-least some silver midnight joy, but instead, I was introduced to a competitor-, no, a Thief.

I went around the apartment trying to find something to do and stopped in front of the fridge. A yellow post-it note stated, in bold letters, “GO GET FOOD.” I was a taken aback a bit, but I eventually snapped out of it and opened the fridge, only to find it empty. All that was inside was a single note. “SORRY BROTHER DEAREST, I WAS INVITED TO A DINNER PARTY, I HOPE YOU DONT MIND,” and I didn't. He didn't have to clear the entire fridge, but I suppose there is nothing you can do in these kinds of scenarios but play along. Guess I've gotta go buy groceries.

The night was just as I had left it; cold, dark and simply made for debaucheries of the naughtiest kind. However, no matter how much I wanted to simply grab that intoxicated man stumbling with legs of rubber on the other side of the road and have a little duet in the moonlight, I had to resist. The temptation was strong, but I'm no amateur, and you can't just pluck someone right off of the streets and assume no one saw you. I sighed and trudged along, ignoring the soft whispers of temptation, and in hindsight, I can only pat myself on the back and say, “Right decision, wrong reasons.” intoxicated prey are easy ones but hardly any fun. They barely squirm and they're often too drunk to feel the pain inflicted, so they don't really mind, and occasionally even worse, enjoy it, which is against the entire point. But I digress.

The grocery shop was of the Ica kind, and it was where I usually bought all my little necessities such as Tomatoes, Bread, and duct-tape. The wind smelled cool and delicious, and I wished to simply drink myself drunk on its soft whispers of heavenly suggestions and drunkenly dance the dance only one can return from with the intoxicated man earlier, but instead, I turned my head to the side and solemnly dragged myself inside the Ica.

I bought butter, milk, toast, strawberry jam, some meaty stuff, black olives, sugar, that kind of stuff. I exited the prison of normality, still in a happy consumerist mood, but that soon slid away, replaced with the Needy mood that I always get in like a comfy pair of jeans you've worn most of your life when the moon rises and the sun retreats. The intoxicated man was gone, replaced with a half-exposed woman, waving her fingurr to me as if trying to invite me to dance with her, but I knew that I didn't have the time nor the energy to dance with her, and I knew that if I did dance with her, some pimp would most likely wonder where his Jane Doe went. And so, I sighed, waved, and trudged along the road once more. I came to a crossroad.

One road went the way I usually take to go home, another went in a direction I've never actually gone in and the last one would bring me back to Ica. I took a quick glance down each road and made a decision.

If the glorious night I had planned was ruined anyway, why not try to redeem it by exploring the neighbourhood a little? How much worse could it get? Of course, I knew it could always get worse, but I wasn't going to say “how can it get any worse?” since that's just a suicide attempt in disguise.

My feet, heavy with contemplation, brought my tired body along the road down the dimly lit street. I caught a sign saying “Penny Lane” somewhere, so I'm guessing that's what I was heading down. The lights gave the world a slight orange-pink-ish tint, which was sort of befitting, considering I could hear the music even from where I was. Dark houses were lining the streets like domino bricks, and I could only imagine what it was that was getting louder the further down the street I went. Soon enough the shrill sound, which I presumed was music, was deafening, and in the corner of my eye, I noticed the only house that had any kind of lights. It was flashing like a disco-ball, lights flaring here and there while the deafening screams and thumping explosions, music, if you ask the people in the house, continued blasting the nearby houses into small pieces of plywood. The house beside the disco-ball was also alight, but it was far more modest, and the music one could faintly hear from within its crevices could actually be considered music. It was hard to hear and see it on account of the exploding disco-ball beside it, but it was possible if you squinted both eyes and ears.

I got curious at this cracked mirroring and couldn't help myself, and so, I sneaked over to the disco-ball, only barely keeping my eyes from melting and my ears from exploding. I peeked inside to find a sea of people, most dressed in black clothes, some wearing cloaks, some covered in something red, some with fangs, some drinking from a goblet filled with something red, all dancing wildly to whatever it is you call construction work done to a beat. With just a glimpse I was already fifty meters away, right beside the other house, hoping this wasn't another vampire party.

The music silently tip-toeing outside from within the house was a familiar yet fresh tone, it reminded me of something I'd heard long ago, but I could quite put my fingurr on it. I went over to the front and peeked inside. A bunch of people, all dressed in very formal attire, were seated around a large table on which all kinds of delicious food stool. I started drooling just looking at it. I didn't even give it a second thought why they were eating food in the middle of the night. My eyes flew around and fell on each guest. I couldn't see most of them since they were either turned away from the window I was peeking in from or covered by the people turned away from myself. But I could see a few people. A rather fat yet extravagant man dressed in a brownish suit with a red bowtie, two women sitting side by side, one in a blue dress and the other in a red, a man dressed in a black suit, the latter staring straight at me.

His face was twisted in a sort of pleasant surprise, mirroring mine.

I had seen that face before.

Brother Dearest?