isolated_killer: (Default)
Kazuya was slowly walking down the dusty road. He was a stranger to these places, didn't know a thing about people's traditions here. He was a simple realtor, not waiting anything from his boring life. He was sure to be one of the youngest members in his well-known company but that fact didn't stop his boss from asking too much from him. He wanted golden hills with villas, while Kazuya could only get him half-abandoned houses for almost no money at all.
It was summer, the late day. Kazuya looked at his watch.
17:13.
He was late on 3 minutes already but he just couldn't find the house №113. It had to be somewhere near the bus station, as he had been told, but the more he walked, the more the house seemed to be moving away even further.
He was wearing a costume of grey fabric. It fitted him quite well, though he looked better in his jeans. He had a small ponytail, as indeed, his hair was a bit too long for a realtor. But he didn't care he wanted to have at least something from his private self. Just so he wouldn't forget his true face.
Kazuya's eyes sparkled when he saw a house under the number of 112. If he could he would run, but he was drained from his energy. The meeting in the house was supposed to be the last for him on that day, but he was already sorry that he had picked up this case; some strange guy was selling a very old house, a huge one too, under a very low payment. Kazuya should just have known better - it just screamed that something was wrong with it. Still, Kazuya's legs carried him further and further from the bus station.
The road was extremely dusty. It was surrounded by two 5-stored buildings, so Kazuya heaved an exasperate sigh, when he reached the crossroads - the houses and shadows ended here.
He was sweating like mad and thinking about the fact that he had forgotten to use his deodorant that morning wasn't helping as he was nervous even more.
The crossroads looked quite wild. He stood there, burning on the sun, squinting his eyes, thinking. Kazuya bit his lip.
On the right there was one big looking very old and completely abandoned building and one small house. The road was illuminated by the sun, so he could see there was no one.
On the left there were more houses, more shadows, but the numbers were suddenly going insane - 8, 27, 66, 93, 1052...
Kame gulped, panting.
He could always go straight further down this dusty road. From one side it was covered from the sun by that old building and some other houses on the other side.
Then Kazuya saw it.
№113.
A very old looking building had the number written with some brown paint on its old wall in huge, ugly letters. Kazuya cringed and gasped. Could this piece of rotten wood be ever sold?! It was enormous, ugly ship in the sea of small, ramshackle houses. It gave Kazuya such a creeps that his left leg - the weakest since his difficult childhood in a big family - shivered.
He picked up his dropped case and slowly walked searching for the main entrance with his eyes. God, the house was so dirty and ugly looking. No gothic touch to it at all. He'll never be able to sell it, that's for sure.
He rounded the house, freaking out at the huge hole on the place of the back door. No, he was obviously badly tricked. By his coworkers, boss, stupid girlfriend, brothers, that slut that sucked him off in a dark alley for 5 bucks...
It was blowing such a cold wind from that hole that Kazuya groaned. His sandwich he had eaten at lunch was screaming his freedom out.
He walked on the sunny side again and looked around. Just a field, nothing more. No flowers, no vegetables or fruits. Just hundreds of scanty tussocks in their naked glory. And the sun.
The fucking sun was determined to get his bumped nose burnt. Again.
Kazuya walked to the main entrance, noting a complete absence of the door. Well, phew, at least not a hole, that's great! For a guy who never was good with his words, he held quite colorful speech in front of that dirty doorpost; whispering out every curse he knew and learned in his life.
He walked into the house, feeling creeped. No, scratch that. Kazuya was horiffied.
Even though the sun was shining through the windows without the glass, the warmness, heat wasn't reaching the house's walls. It was as cold as if it was late fall. The floor was littered with bottles, syringes, packs and rotten food. The smell was like from the toilet on the railway station in some forgotten suburbs. There were imprints of sneakers and bare feet on the dusty, dirty floor and Kazuya would have grabbed the doorpost if he wasn't that afraid of getting AIDS just by touching anything.
The walls were dirty as well and wild vines twined around it. But it wasn't adding any charm to this ugly ship, as the vines were old and had dried already - they looked as if the coagulated blood was sipping through the millions of tiny cracks.
Out of the corner of his eye he noticed a small door on his left and his heart skipped a beat, for sure. On the wall there was a huge spot of something bloody red mixed with some small white pieces. And Kazuya was completely sure it was gore. He doubted though if the white pieces were vomit or bones...
He quietly and slowly walked to the that hall, whimpering as he saw a dead dry rat. He was surprised by a very narrow ladder that was coming up and its end was lost in the dusty, cold darkness. Kazuya wanted to turn back, to run for his dear life, to just try and get away from this but something made him take first, second, then third, fourth step on the stairs. And here he was, going up, and up. The air was so dirty and stuffy, he closed his nose and mouth with his sleeve.
Suddenly he was met by a huge metallic really rusty door. There were imprints of fingers, scrtaches of nails on it. The door slowly opened, sucking Kazuya into the room and he was met by the view of a dirtily dressed teen on his knees giving a head to the dressed in a luxurious tuxedo man with a fedora on his perfect hair looking right into Kazuya's eyes, a smug smile on his face hid by hands which he held in front of his face. He was sitting in the only clean chair in the room, the only one in a good condition.
- Oh, teddyboy, we have our new toy here. Look at that expensive face... He is worth waiting.
He took the teen by the chin with his perfect, long fingers and the boy let out of the other's long, shiny cock. The man turned that slim face to Kazuya forcefully, and the latter's knees went weak and he lost his last consciousness.
The faces of the teen and the gorgeous man in the chair were the same.

October 2012

S M T W T F S
 123456
78910111213
14151617 181920
21222324252627
28293031   

Syndicate

RSS Atom

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags
Page generated Sep. 24th, 2017 03:51 pm
Powered by Dreamwidth Studios