Write to Rank 2023

Round 9 - Moon and Shadow

Prompt: An action short story with:
     -a clear protagonist and antagonist
     -a plot twist
     -world and scene-building.
Word Count: 5k min – 10k max

***

There was a lot wrong with the world. This was the thought Moon had every single evening when he put his laptop and briefcase away and got ready to walk the night.

Most people lived comfortably in their little bubble, working, eating, sleeping, and going about their daily lives, all the while ignoring the reality breathing down their necks. It was in the shady alleys, in the gloomy parks, slipping through the cracks in the bubble and spreading its poison throughout the Fourth city.

It wasn't just here, but all the cities from the First to the Ninth were being invaded by the very thing they sought to block out.

The world was in ruins and the survivors had forgotten.

Or maybe, Moon thought, it was simply easier to pretend none of it existed.

He balanced on the railing of the balcony, the pale silk of his robes fluttering and sighing in the night's cool breeze. His hair, as pale as the moon itself, fell into his eyes and brushed across his ears. A white mask covered the top half of his face, showing only the burnished gold of his eyes.

He was a Nightwalker, a unique existence immune to the poisonous shadows. He, and others like him, were able to walk freely in the outer lands, or, if they so chose, fight the insidious creatures that managed to infiltrate the cities. Because few Nightwalkers bothered to do so, their existence had come to be a hated and feared thing.

Yet Moon never let that stop him. He cared for those inside this city (well, some anyway), and so did everything he could to protect them.

He closed his eyes and listened. At first, there were only the sounds of a slumbering city. He heard its heartbeat, the steady thrump thrump thrump of its massive engine as it powered the protective bubble. It shimmered overhead now, a gossamer shine that made the outside world look far brighter and cleaner than it was.

A distant swell of music lifted into the air from the street below, an old janky tune that was nearly a century old. Laughter accompanied it, warm and bright. A dog barked. A baby cried, and a mother began to croon gently.

Moon tilted his head, casting his senses further into the night. Past the peaceful nightlife, past the quiet hum of traffic, deeper into the city where the oldest, tallest buildings reached for the stars. Here the shadows pooled, collecting resentment and hopelessness and despair with a ravenous thirst.

This was where the dregs of society liked to gather and oftentimes, Moon could find trouble if he went looking. Tonight was no exception.

Frightened screams sailed on the cold winds, reaching him like discordant chords played by an unskilled hand. His eyes snapped open, a crease between his pale brows.

This was not the usual music of his city, but a cacophony of un-tuned horrors. It was exactly what he was listening for.

From the folds of his robes, he withdrew a slender flute made out of bone. Raising it to his lips, his fingers danced and guided his breath into a gentle trill. The notes floated up into the sky.

An answering cry came from above. With a great beat of wings, a monstrous white shape swooped down past his balcony. It was bigger than a car, and when it spread its wings, its wingspan reached nearly thirty feet.

Moon stepped off the railing, flute clutched in one hand. His robes lifted, flapping wildly as he fell. The creature caught him almost immediately, its soft, luminescent feathers softening his landing.