Mason took a massive meaty bite out of burger, grinning as he saw Marissa and Axel begin to bunker down. He was accustomed to long hours, especially at night when he took care of Hannah, so he wasn't the least bit tired.
Marissa had brought pre-heated food for them. Apparently her father had cooked them several days before for a party, and had gifted them to her once he heard where she was going. Mason enjoyed it for what it was worth, but it was already getting cold.
Speaking of cold, the entire house was rather cold. It did not have good insulation, so even in the summer it got quite chilly. Not enough to cause true discomfort, but just enough to where one would have to wear a jacket if they had short fur.
Mason stood up from the kitchen table, stretching. He wasn't one for spending an entire night in one place, and he was ready to explore more of the house that he hadn't been to in a while. He vaguely remembered where everything was, but he wanted to refresh his memory.
He muttered his plan to Marissa and Axel, but it fell upon deaf ears. Both were completely asleep, and he doubted that anything would wake the both of them up. Knowing this, he didn't attempt to say quite, nearly wrenching the door open.
He hugged himself, wishing that he decided to wear something more than shorts and an undershirt as bedtime clothes. The air was significantly chillier than the kitchen, and as the rumor would have one believe, if Mason strained hard enough, he could make out faint whispers.
But that didn't freak him out. He's been inside that place enough times already that nothing really surprised him, and living in the country erased many of the standard fears of camping. Even if he did get lost, he knew how to make his way back.
He brushed his hand against the peeling paint of the walls, his paws kicking up dust with every step. Nothing compared to the smell of old buildings. Musty, old, and stinking with experience and age. Hundreds of stories probably littered the buildings walls, never to be told.
Mason walked stoically, making his way down an old hallway and into a grand room. It was large, but not as large as the kitchen was. He put his hand against one of the wooden doors and pushed lightly, letting it open up with a harsh creek.
The bathroom, he noted. He clicked on the small light inside his pocket that he kept just in case the generators of the house stopped working. The light lit up the smaller bathroom, illuminating the dust particles floating through the air.
The toilet stood unused and broken, the sink was dusty, and the bathtub was just plain missing. The tiled floor was cracked and missing a few pieces, and the lightbulb had long since burned out.
Mason entered the bathroom, lightly cleaning the bathroom mirror.
Mason had often considered himself good-looking. His fur was brushed and elegant, his body slim, almost femanine. His ears were large, but not like jackrabbits, no, but longer than rabbits. His nose was, as many people pointed out, cute as a button, and his gleaming purple eyes shone even through the inky blackness.
He was nearly completely black, with the only exception being his shoulder blades containing small blots of white patches that resembled ink splatters, and his neck. That was perhaps the strangest thing about him, his neck.
Along the base where his chin met with it was a long strip of green fur. By all accounts, it should not be there, and he was genetically his parents child, so there could be no green there. But for whatever reason or another, it was there.
It was a stark contrast to his entire body. It was slim, barely an inch wide, but it spanned the entirety of his neck in a circle. He brought up a finger, dragging it across the green patch. When he was first put into kindergarten, other kids made fun of him for it. But they started caring less about him as they all grew up.
Mason sighed, pushing himself away from the countertop. He made his way back into the massive room, and entered another door, this time leading to a sort of painters room.
Paint and ink were splattered across the walls and floor, now so dry and dusty they would disintegrate into dust with little pressure on their surrounding area. Mason could smell the chemicals inside them, it was more apparent here than anywhere else, he remembered.
Two windows sat right next to an easel that sat against the western wall. The easel was tearing apart, and before long it would crumble into a pile of old wood and rusted nails, but they window held some form of importance, and Mason knew this by their design.
The windows were more like the old stained glass of cathedrals and churches, so crystal clear yet old and dusty it was surreal, and so detailed yet abstract that they were both pleasing and uncomfortable to look at. It was a strange combination, but not an altogether unpleasant, nor pleasant, experience.
Mason took a look into the other rooms of the house, but found nothing that was of particular interest. Another two hallways leading deeper into the house, a fire wood room, and another bathroom, this time much bigger than the others.
Mason began walking back to the kitchen, nearly entering. But he stopped. He wasn't tired, and despite the large area, it would undoubtedly be rather stuffy in that room. So Mason decided to exit the building for the time being, this time wanting to relax on the old porch.
He once again opened the entrance doors, gliding in between them as he exited the house. The hot summer air instantly warmed his body up by several degrees, and Mason took in a deep breath, sliding his back against the pillars.
The night sky was incredible. Shades of radiant tones smashed against one another, creating a wonder display of color and a deep seeded love of space. Mason truly smiled again, taking in the wonderful display as the moon was in it's near full moon phase, just a day away.
Countless stars and beams of light seemed to shine in the sky, Mason turning his head to try and find any constellations. He smiled again as he pushed himself off the wooden pillar, silently walking down onto the dusty pathway that lead up to the Cumberland House.
The soft sound of crunching leaves and peebles being disturbed was loud against the blank, non-noise of the night. It was quiet, peaceful and quant. The flowers that bloomed had their petals closed, but Mason brushed past them all the same, making his way to a lone bench in the middle of the pathway there.
He reached it after five minutes of walking. It was alone, a silent observer to the night. It was cast-iron, with a moth-eaten cloth as it's comfy seat. Mason opted to sit on the pure bench part of it, not wanting to particularly touch any of that.
He sighed, kicking up his paws. He felt a short gust of wind tickle his body as the warmness washed over him, Mason closing his eyes and basking in it. His black fur glistened in the moonlight. All was well, all was calm.
But something caught his eye. He heard the rough sound of running against the dried grass, and the sound of metal scraping against metal. Mason stood straight, getting out of his seat. Something was wrong.
It seemed that all air was sucked out of his lungs as he observed a thin streak through the corn-like grass, running at an absurdly high speed. His heart quickened, Mason taking an unconscious step back.
But before whatever the streak was could reach him, it started to slow. The grass parted slower and slower, before reaching a crawl, then nothing. Mason had his back completely to the house, and it was a good solid seven minutes to the house, and a near twelve minutes to the road.
He was alone.
Mason quickly scrambled to grab his small light, fishing it almost worryingly fast out of his pocket and quickly slammed his thumb against the button, turning the light on. He felt heat radiate off it, much hotter than anything before, actually burning bright.
A dull, almost sadistic red light emitted from the last area where the streak appeared, glowing ominously in pulses. He could hear each pulse that resounded in a glowing whizz sound effect, completely different than Mason had ever heard.
The heat grew stronger the more he approached, and even in his three articles of clothing, he felt too overdressed. Sweat dripped from his forehead, and eventually, he reached the spot where the light and heat was coming from.
He felt apprehensive, his hand lingering against the last couple strands of grass that separates him from whatever was behind it. Mason gulped, brushing his arm against his forehead and finding it completely soaked in sweat.
In one motion, Mason tugged down the grass, and he saw what produced the heat. A small, metallic creature, with a completely black visor, green claws, and purple fur.
_____________________________________________________________________
Heya!
Don't worry, you'll found out what happened in the next chapter. Well, if you even worried. Or if you even care...
Eh, whatever. I Hope you enjoyed this one, and thanks for reading!
~ Candle