Nobody thought much of the telephone booth that sat like a relic off the access road behind the old supermarket on the edge of the city.
Eyes passed over it as if it weren't even there.
It glowed a faint neon red and teal in the starlit dark.
No one realized it wasn't connected to any electrical grid.
Every now and again someone would say, “Oh, how funny, an old telephone booth!” before their gaze slid back to their smartphone, and the moment was forgotten.
Grim wore an old dark trenchcoat and a dark beanie that allowed him to go largely unnoticed.
But he knew about the phone booth.
That night, he stepped inside.
The phone rang.
“Otherworld, this is Petra. Please state your destination.”
“Elysium, please.”
There was a pause, as though she were considering.
And then—
“Of course.”
In a moment reality slid into place like a backdrop being changed mid-scene.
He hung up the phone.
He stepped out of the booth into the Otherworld.
The telephone booth glowed brighter here. Everything did.
Neon didn't just glow here; it bled. The teal and red light pooled on the wet pavement like spilled oil, shimmering with a digital interference that made the world glitch faintly.
The supermarket itself was lit up like a rave, a colorful mist spilling from the windows.
Music pulsed from within—the polyphonic drone of ancient chants, the crash of heavy metal, and the beeps and whirs of electronica. It was a beautiful cacophony—a cathedral built of scrap metal and starlight.
The air smelled of spun sugar and ozone—the scent of a lightning strike hitting a cotton candy machine.
Grim removed his hat, revealing sharply pointed ears. Horns curled from his temples, small and sharp, catching the light like polished jet.
His eyes were lined with kohl and shimmering emerald eye shadow, accentuating bright green irises that glowed around long rectangular pupils—like doors to the abyss.
His clothes were tight, dark lamé that slithered with iridescence under the neon. His shoes clicked on the pavement sharply.
He smiled, slightly, revealing one glistening fang.
He was hungry.
Hungry for the pleasures of the Otherworld.
It was good to be home.
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I wish I could pull off dark lamé...oh well.
Yes! Let the bloodbath begin....