Notes:

kind of creepy, ig?
tw: maybe paranoia?

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I have a secret.

It eats at my soul, dissolves my very being.

I can't not tell someone, can't let this tale fade into obscurity, but -

I can't tell anyone either.

I've been mulling it over for years, now, and I -

I don't think I have much time left.

I hope writing it down will -

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This isn't even my secret to tell.

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It was sixty years ago, to the day. Nothing had changed in the past several years - not the neighbors, not the houses, not even the number of weeds in the flowerbeds. All were sound asleep in their beds. It was nighttime, so that was to be expected.

Why was I awake?

I don't quite know. This section of my memory is all a bit blurred; all that I remember is that something had awoken me, had urged me to leave the comfort of my home.

In retrospect, that hadn't been the best idea.

Something drew my attention to a neighbor's window. She was an old woman - nice enough, unless you caught her on a bad day. She lived alone, had done so for nearly twenty years. Her husband had died then, and she had no relatives near enough to visit her.

So perhaps it was the shadow darkening her window that intrigued me. She should have been asleep by now. And yet…

The shadow at her window did not look like the old woman I knew. It was taller than her - sharper, somehow.

I moved closer, to get a better look. Approaching the window, opening the gate, I was awarded a most peculiar sight.

The shadow had flitted away somewhere - I know not where, and I shouldn't care to know - but my neighbor lay in her bed, asleep. The rise and fall of her blankets proved as much. I turned to leave, hoping to banish these silly thoughts from my mind.

It was then that the shadow reappeared in the corner of my eye, and I turned back, drawn to the movement as a moth to a flame. Closer now, I could make out more of the shadow's features - no, not a shadow, but a man in a large black coat which enveloped him entirely, collar sticking up to hide much of his face. A wide-brimmed hat hid the rest but for his eyes, which were directed down at the woman - my neighbor - he stood over.

Come to me, he said, though his lips did not move, one hand hovering above her mouth. A glowing blue sphere of light obeyed his command, ascending from the depths of her mouth and rising, as if magnetized, to his hand. He caught it, turning it over in his hands before clenching his fingers into a fist.

The ball of light disappeared, fading quietly into nothing.

I must have made a noise - a quiet gasp, perhaps - for his head swiveled abruptly in my direction. His eyes, which I now found to be of a piercing yellow shade, bored into me. There managed to somehow be simultaneously too many and yet not enough of them. His coat flared behind him, and it was then that I realized it was not a coat - not a coat at all.

A black feather drifted to rest on the bed of my neighbor.

With a terrifying, blood-curdling screech, the man with night-dark wings leapt towards the window. I fell to the ground, protecting myself as best I could with my hands over my head, and watched as a black bird fled against the backdrop of a full moon.

Once certain that the winged being was gone - though I never would be completely sure it was - I peered through the window of my neighbor's window once more. She had yet to awaken, still somehow soundly sleeping.

The black feather had become dislodged, now floating to the floor beside the windowsill.

I wanted it.

And to this day, I am ashamed that my desire had the better of me that night.

I climbed through the window of my neighbor's house, the black feather the only thought in my mind.

Once it was in my hand, I looked back to my neighbor to make sure she had not awoken.

It was then that I noticed the blankets were no longer rising and falling.

I picked up the mirror that had been lying on her bedside table and held it to her mouth. There was no fog on the mirror, no life left in her.

What had I just witnessed?

To this day, I do not know. I am ashamed to admit that I fled, fled with the black feather in my hand, fled with the only evidence someone else - or something else - had been near, fled back to my home and the now chilled sheets of my bed. I tried to forget the glimpse, the vision I'd had of the two figures, floating in front of the full moon, one the size of a child and the other a young - ageless - man in a distinguishing white tuxedo and gloved hands, one of which he had extended to allow a dark-winged crow to perch upon.

Three sets of eyes, more than six but less than five - eerie, bright, sharp, unnatural eyes - watched me as I ran, reaching my house and locking the door behind me.

The man in the white tuxedo smiled grimly, not a hint of happiness in the expression, and was matched by the child-like form beside him, though it looked far, far too old on his face.

There is another one , the tuxedoed man observed, absently stroking the crow.

It will be fine, the young (old, old, old ) boy replied. What sort of person would believe such a story?

The tuxedoed man's grin widened, a sharp, jagged, broken, emotionless thing. No one.

Exactly, the small not-child remarked blandly, eyes glinting in the backlight of the moon, not even a hint of compassion to be found.

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Now you know, my poor reader.

Now you know why this secret eats at my soul, something that I can tell no one

They -

I hope they won't -

- for merely writing -

They -

oh god

they -

they -

They're coming.

They're coming for me now.

I can tell.

The bird on my windowsill -

It's them.

It's got to be them.

It's been years - decades, even - and yet -

I -

I'm sorry.

Please -

Keep this secret.

Or your life may be -

RUN.

im sorry

so

so

so sorry

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(Don't say a word of what I've shown you.)

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(not if you want to survive)

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(Here, take the feather - protect it with your life.)

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(so, so sorry, because now - )

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you're

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next.

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...oh? I believe we've found our next crow, Detective.

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Indeed, Thief, I suppose you might be correct.

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Notes:

title from Monster Among Men (5SOS)

yeah i know i havent posted day 7 yet but i had 300 pages of reading, an essay, and class that day so

this is really only marginally dcmk

the general gist here is that kaito found pandora and stopped ageing, and then conan never started ageing again, so they ended up being conscripted br death as immortal soul collectors

...or something, idk