Milo {Mac} MacKenzie (macfrontman) wrote in forgotten_gods, @ 2009-10-28 00:12:00 |
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Entry tags: | milo mackenzie, sato |
Who: Mac, Sato and a wendigo.
What: Emo boys are crunchy and taste good with ketchup.
When: Thursday night, Halloweek.
Where: Outside a venue in Brooklyn.
Warning: Language, violence, potential cannibalism and Sato. :D
There were two times a year busier than anything else for the emo band - the start of summer and the week of Halloween. There was barely time to sleep between gigs, recording and getting ready for the party at the studio that Saturday. But the crowds at the shows were wild and it was great being able to do shows with massive, big-name bands.
Mac had been running himself ragged and it felt great. It was all indulgence - booze, girls (and boys), even the occasional drugs. And all that greasy bar food was good for maintaining his frontman figure. A break in the chaos - this time in the form of a band-switch - giving him about fifteen minutes of downtime before the next band went on was both a chance to breathe and a time to kill doing nothing (because really, who get get anything done in fifteen minutes?).
It was also serious inconvenience that he had to go outside to smoke these days too. It involved coats and cold and putting his drink down somewhere. At least he could trust the band to keep any eye on it - not that anyone ever had to drug Mac. Unless there were video games or pizza in front of him.
He huddled in a corner by the back door, a dumpster blocking the wind as he hunched over and lit a cigarette in the palm of his hand, taking a deep drag off it and leaning against the brick wall, one hand shoved down in his pocket, rolling a quarter over his knuckles. He wasn't the kind who spooked easily, which was why he hardly even looked up when he saw a shadow pass by. Didn't even notice the way it was all hunched over and coming in his direction; he just flicked a piece of tobacco off his lip and tossed his hair out of his face.
It was the smell that hit him before he saw the figure, and living in New York as long as he had, it was pretty familiar: garbage, piss and the unnerving smell of death. Probably from the dumpster next to him. No doubt a fair amount of drunks had tossed their guts up in there. But, as un-skittish as he was, Mac was still taken aback when he looked up and saw the gaunt figure standing in the alley opposite him.
His heart had leaped into his throat from the sheer unexpectedness of it, though on closer inspection, he couldn't see anything but some homeless junkie. Emaciated, sunken features, looking like death warmed over and staring at him with those expectant, dead eyes. Bloodied and torn lips, sores all over its skin and arms that bore a strong enough resemblance to fresh tracks that Mac had no illusions this man was anything but an addict.
"Look man," Mac said, flicking his ash casually, "My wallet's inside with my gear. You can bum a smoke if you want I can see if anyone's got any left over food in there, but I don't have any money on me." Which was about as nice as he got to anyone.
There was no reply, though, just the same dead stare. It seriously unnerved him, but he figured the guy was just stoned and off in his own little universe. He blew out the last of his smoke, tossed the butt to the ground and stomped it out, reaching for the door. Locked.
"Oh fucking hell..." Mac swore, turning a little and jiggling the handle. Yep, locked. "Just my fucking luck."
For some reason, though, he was almost scared to move. And he certainly didn't like the idea of turning his back on this creeper - who was slowly moving towards him, looking like it was about ready to have a piece of him. Mac hadn't noticed it before now, but the stench had gotten stronger too. With his back pressed to the brick wall, Mac started moving slowly sideways, trying to inch around the side of the building and hopefully get back inside. His hand in his pocket was trying to blindly text an S.O.S. to one of the guys inside, but without looking at it, he had no idea what he was actually doing.
Finally he got to the corner, this man - or whatever he was, the closer he got the less human he looked - still staring him down like a hungry animal. The moment he moved to take off around the corner, the thing rushed forward faster than any natural thing, taking him to the ground. All Mac could do was scream...