That Weird Relative (Entry for CCC # 71)

It was nighttime, the time of the hunt. He loved the hunt, since the prey had always been so foolish to enter the hunting grounds at that time. While it wasn’t as often as it had been, they still would venture into the hunting grounds, and he was going to enjoy it. At least, he hoped he would.

The fact of the matter was he was unsure if he would enjoy it this time. He wasn’t going to be hunting alone this time. True, he had hunted with a partner before, but it had been a long time, and his mate was gone, thanks to the rarity of a dangerous prey. This time, he was supposed to meet with his cousin. He had, during some hunts, heard the prey speak of weird family members, and he could actually understand that.

His cousin deviated from custom. He would listen to things the prey would listen to, and had taken on a different appearance. Instead of the tradition look, his cousin took on the look of a figure from the prey’s lore; someone they referred to as ‘The King’. Hopefully, that would not come into the hunt.

He stopped thinking about that, because something had caught his attention. He glanced in the direction, and saw prey. They were moving through the woods, carrying one of those devices they had. He couldn’t tell if it was one of those devices that had been used to communicate, or to improve vision. Over the years, the prey had given up on their own night vision. This he, and his brethren, used to their advantage. The prey would have a bad habit of staring at their threat for a moment, always giving the hunter a chance to begin their strike.

He made an instant jump to get closer to the prey. When he did that, the action caused two low booms as the air rushed to fill the displaced space, and then accompany his arrival. He was closer, and the sounds made the prey pause for a moment. This was a calculated move, as he knew the prey would slowly turn to look around, using the device to help them see.

He was ready for the strike for when they looked at him. He, and his brethren, had developed mental abilities to strike their prey. The older prey, unlike the younger, were not so gullible, and might even strike back, not that the prey’s weaponry could hurt him or his brethren. He remained calm, knowing that once the prey saw them, the attack would start. The device in their hands might start to malfunction, but that was all.

Just before the prey would look at him, a loud noise came out of nowhere. It was like the prey’s music, but he knew what it was. His cousin had arrived, and their usual sound of arrival was replaced with that noise. The results were immediate, and the prey turned away from them, not even looking, and ran. He sighed, knowing that one was lost.

He turned to his cousin, and did his best to remain calm, even though he was fuming. “What, in all creation, has possessed you to come in like that?” When he looked at his cousin, he was appalled. His cousin was still in the awful getup that he had come to like. He truly did look like the figure the prey called ‘The King.’

His cousin let out a chuckle, and responded, “You are getting behind in the times, cousin. The prey will be more drawn to this than our usually, as they would say, ‘stuffy’ appearance. You would not believe how many have come running to me thinking I was ‘The King’. It’s amazing how many I can claim than if I wore that stuffy appearance.” With that, his cousin motioned to his look.

He tried to control his temper. He was actually proud of the look, since it worked very well for them for years. It worked well in the dark forests, and even in some structures the prey dwelled in. In fact, he thought that better term for their usual appearance was a different word the prey used, ‘formal’. “That is just a passing phase, cousin. What will you do when they finally realize this ‘The King’ is dead. Our form has worked for centuries.” This was the truth. The prey of the current time seemed to think they were people in black suits, and a tie. That actually helped to keep the prey focused on them, so they could start an attack.

He saw his cousin wave a dismissive tendril from his back. “Times are changing. Look at what the prey has done as of late. Look what they have chosen as leaders in the current years. They are foolish, dumber than they had been in centuries. This is the way to go.”

He was ready to argue more, but he then noticed movement again. More prey had entered the hunting ground. He was about to go after it, when he noticed a brief splotch of pink on what the prey called a face. A nasty thought crossed his mind, and he said to his cousin. “Prove it, cousin. Go claim the prey that just entered the hunting grounds. It is all alone.”

The cousin nodded, and said, “I will.” Then they disappeared from the spot, appearing near the prey that had just arrived. The cousin thought this would be easy. The second he arrived with his rendition of the prey’s music, sounding like a song about a place the prey called a Jailhouse, it locked its gaze on the prey. This prey had a very distinct feature; a pink splotch on its face that he thought the prey referred to as a mustache. He started the attack, but something wasn’t right. Instead of feeling the life energy and what the prey called a soul coming to him, he felt his essence leave him.

He tried to break the gaze and stop the attack, but he kept coming back to that pink mustache. As his life kept leaving him, utter panic hit him. He had heard of this thing. It was ‘THE WARFSTACHE’. His cousin’s mate had fallen to it. He tried again to move away, but he couldn’t. His life was gone as he went limp, and collapsed into darkness.

The first figure watched all this from a safe distance, but moved closer as the prey moved towards his fallen cousin. He listened as the prey knelt over the form, and in a loud voice, exclaimed, “Holy crap. I think I just saw Elvis Slendy, or is it Slendy Presley, collapse.” In a moment, he heard the prey chuckle, and say, “That’s crazy. Who would be deranged enough to come up with a Rockabilly Slenderman.” He then saw the prey look around, ducking out of view as the dreaded Warfstache was aimed in his direction.

He waited for a moment, thankful when he heard the figure start to run away. He then moved over to his cousin. There was no saving him now. The body was already fading from existence. Slenderman shook his head, speaking to no one since his cousin was no more. “I said that look was unwise, cousin. It made you prey for that foul thing.” He then shrugged, and moved away from the hunting grounds. No one would be upset that this happened to his cousin. In fact, he felt that the rest of their kind would be thankful for this.

The prey bearing the Warfstache was right, though. Who would be deranged enough to come up with a Rockabilly Slenderman?