A Mistake

A Mistake
By Invader-Hime

The sky was an eerie mixture of black and grey, which contrasted greatly with the blood red roses that littered the ground around a pair of pre-teen feet enclosed in fine Italian shoes.  Large, blue eyes stared down at the dirt.  Cold, icy rain pelted down and softened tightly packed earth.  Tall shadows moved just outside the child's vision.  To their movements, he paid no mind, but their words...

"Poor Gabriel, he went before his time,"

"A good man, pity he died so needlessly,"

"One mistake can get you killed in this line of work.  He knew the risks,"

"Now his wife and son are left all alone,"

"I wish he had known his own limits.  I mean, he could handle one of them,"

The voices then turned hushed.

"Yes, he handled one of them for years before that other one came along,"

"It was a mistake,"

"They shouldn't have had children,"

"It was a mistake,"

"A human being can only take so much before...it starts effecting them,"

"Two is one too many,"

"Such a shame..."

Each word was like a nail in the boy's heart.  Each one was an accusation.  Each one pointed towards something he had heard the coroner mention to his mother in passing.  It seemed like everyone suspected...everyone blamed him.

But it wasn't fair!

He wouldn't!  He-

Before the thought could be completed, a pair of skeletal hands tore through the ground and seized his ankles.  They pulled him to his knees and yanked his face close to the decaying visage of his father.  

"You did this, you ungrateful wretch.  This is your fault!  You did this,"

Blue eyes stung and became glassy.

The boy shook his head.

"I didn't...I didn't..."

He never got to finish the sentence.
The bony fingers of the ghoul wrapped around his throat and squeezed with an unnatural and unyielding strength.

And then Michael Morningstar woke up.

He woke up a young adult in his room in the guest house.  Wide, blue eyes darted around the room revealing nothing out of the ordinary, though he had been away from the truly ordinary for over a year and may no longer be the best judge of it.

Michael seized the glass of water on his nightstand with a shaking hand and downed the entire glass before setting it down and laying back down.

He was alone.  A mana scan proved that, not that it would help in detecting the undead.  Still, it was comforting to know that he was alone.  Which was good because he didn't want anyone to hear him.

Thunder rumbled outside and the sound of rain pelting the roof and windows filled the young man's ears. Michael turned back over in his bed, pulling the black silk sheets up to his chin.  He curled into a ball and whispered in a strained voice.

"I didn't do it on purpose,"