Board Thread:Writer's Workshop/@comment-25763427-20150805015126

 Harriet quickly crossed the subway station floor, the solitary sound of her heels clicking the floor at the late hour echoing. Stepping aboard, she found that only one other person was aboard the carriage, and smiled at the thought of a little room to stretch her arms.

 The man on the other hand, took her entrance as a sign for happiness, and grinned hideously. His faded suit looked soaked, despite the lack of rain in the past few days, and his messy raven locks tangled in a war with perspiration. Choosing to sit a few seats down from him, she noted that he was carrying an old brown bag. A noticeable lump lay at the bottom of the bag, and she found herself unable to look away from it as he shifted in his seat.

 The man removed something from the bag, and there was a crunching noise as his teeth mashed together atop it. Giggling, he dragged his foot back and forth across the dirty floor, his eyes growing wide. Bored out of her mind, and too sleepy to question the man’s sanity, she broke the silence with words. “What’s so funny?” Glancing her way, he flashed another grin, and for a moment she saw something green and black sticking out from between his teeth. Then his lips rolled over his teeth, and he rolled his eyes.

 “I can see the future. AND IT’S HILARIOUS!” Growing a humorous expression, she questioned this declaration, brought in by the man’s seductive smile and cool violet eyes. “Okay then Mr. Soothsayer. What’s going to happen tomorrow?” He rolled his eyes. “Surely you have a better question than that?” Shaking her head, she rested her chin on a fist, and watched him remove something from his bag and scarf it down with one hand blocking any view of the snack.

 His gaze shot downward and he spoke in a tone thick with monotonous indifference. “The same thing that happens every day. Three-hundred and sixty-some thousand people will be shot outta the womb, and one-hundred and fifty-some thousand will get offed, whether by they get shot up by war, filled up by drug overdoses, burnt to a crisp in a car accident, or their body will inhale their organs in an attempt to stave off hunger…” His head raised mechanically, and he returned his sights to her. “All while the US throws away thirty-million some pounds of food every year.”

 Disturbed by his answer and the smirk it came with, she gulped, feeling a little sorry for asking. “Well I mean...that stuff is obvious...I’m asking what will change.” He stood, crossing the platform steadily and standing over with a raised eyebrow and some particularly bright eyes. “Change? For what? For who? There are Seven point five BILLION people in the world. Unless we’re talking about insects, there are ten-QUINTILLION creepy crawly’s just ripe for the living room table.”

 Licking her lips, she began regretting even striking up a conversation with the well dressed giant. Reaching into her purse, her hand tightened around mace as she let the question slipped forth. “Me. What will change for me?”

 For some reason he found this to be the funniest question in his life.

 He doubled over laughing, his sides writhing as he gasped for breath. Her hand loosened on the mace, and she shifted uncomfortably in her seat. “What’s so funny?” His giggles dying down, the man slowly rolled to a stand, and clamped a hand down on her shoulder. His eyes were pitch black, with white dots in the center of them. “Fullcircle.”

 The gravelly voice sent shudders down her spine, but her right arm was limp with his fist caging the shoulder blade. She found herself unable to speak as he stuck a hand into the enigmatic bag, and removed a wriggling beetle the size of her nose. It’s viridescent shell sparkled in the dull white light of the train. Stuffing the struggling beast down his throat without even blinking, his complexion turned a sickly green as he finally answered her question, and his nails turned to claws that extracted blood from her quivering shoulder.

 “You won’t still be alive by sunrise Harriet…”  