The Shadow Kissed Prologue
So, to be honest, I’m only half way through the writing of this fic. As of now, it stands at almost 35K, but lately I’ve been wanting to strangle it. So to save it from the dung heap, I decided to start posting. Updates will likely be a once a week thing, since I’ll be going back to school in a week, but to make up for it, the chapters, other than the prologue, are rather long ._. Warning: Starts out rather…graphic.
THIS STORY IS ABANDONED AND WILL NOT BE COMPLETED. UPON REQUEST, I AM WILLING TO WRITE UP AN ADDITIONAL "CHAPTER" EXPLAINING THE REST OF THE STORYLINE AND HOW IT WAS MEANT TO END, BUT IT WILL NOT BE COMPLETED. The contents of this masterlist has been unlocked for those who still want to read the story; however, as I have already stated, it will not be updated at any point in its original capacity. Thank you for your interest and time.
Title: The Shadow Kissed
Author: insanityplays
Rating: R
Pairing: KRY (Kyuhyun/Ryeowook/Yesung), More to be added as reveled
Characters: Psychic!Ryeowook, Psycho!Kyuhyun, Cop!Yesung, rest of Super Junior + M, appearances by DBSK, SNSD, and f(x)
Summary: After a nightmare Kim Jongwoon forwent paying any special attention to, he’s placed on a cold case fourteen years old where the only witness is a soon to be twenty-three year old man locked away in a mental “hospital” owned by the same people suspected for the murder/arson case of the Cho Family. Boring re-investigation aside, Jongwoon finds himself thrust into living his nightmare - only this time, it isn’t a dream.
Disclaimer: I do not own.
Warning: Includes, or will include, Angst, Drama, Romance, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Action, and Mystery. Also includes, or will include, paranormal activity, ghosts, attempted murder and murder.
- Prologue -
It was a cool night that night, the moon a perfect circle in the sky, casting an eerie glow on the two story house below in the middle of three acres of land a little ways away from the bright city of Seoul. In every direction there were woods - giant clusters of trees that left the house looking abandoned in the middle of a meadow.
Hidden in the surrounding trees near a lake that appeared black, depthless, and menacing in the night, someone stalked the shadows, a hazy blur flitting from tree to tree, and if one looked close enough, he would see not just one man, but three, skirting the lake and traipsing past fallen leaves and branches, careful to avoid detection from anyone that might be out and about that night lest they be identified later for what they were about to do.
If one listened closely enough, he would hear the soft brush of fabric against branches and leaves, the faint rustle that quick-stepped shoes made in the foliage, and note when all three men came together with a silent, affirming grunt that assured the others their scouting had produced nothing before splitting back up and continuing their path to the only house farther through the woods.
The night was mostly silent, the two story house dark except for the full moon’s illumination, and a dark deed had been planned that no one would know about until it was too late.
In the trees, behind the Cho residence, two owls peered out into the night, and watched as the three men surrounded the house, stalking about it in the trees, assuring themselves no one was outside before slipping into the shadows at the back of the house and, as silently as they could, broke the door’s window, reaching in and unlocking the door before slipping inside.
When screams erupted from the two story house, it was only the owls who heard, and with soft hoots, they soared off into the night, far away from the nightmare that was going on down below.
--
“Help! Help! Somebody please help!”
“Shut up you old hag, no one can hear you!”
“Please, somebody help us, please!”
“I said, shut up!” and with a sickening crunching sound, the sound of a woman’s bones breaking under the pressure of a big black boot echoed in the eerily silent bedroom.
With a moan, the woman rolled onto her side and clutched at her broken leg, glaring up at the man standing over her with a knife. “Bastards, murderers, monsters!” she hissed, gasping when her broken leg was kicked.
Closer to the bed, where a man lay face down in a pool of his own blood soaking the sheets red, stood a little girl, no more than fourteen, staring in horror at her mother on the floor, and holding a tightly wrapped bundle close to her chest.
Another man, standing a little behind the man with the knife and holding a gun, begun to laugh, the man with the knife joining in after a few seconds, and the sound was cold, so cold, cutting off only a few moments after it begin.
“Ah, that we are, that we are,” the man with the knife said as he got down on one knee and brought the knife up close to her neck. “But we can do so much better, so much worse, than just shooting a man…” he said in a low purr, black grin on his face and so close, so close, to the woman.
The woman recoiled, and the man laughed again, the man with the gun joining in once more.
The man with the knife stood up and moved away from the woman then, closer to the little girl standing besides the bed, eyes suddenly locked with hers. The mother’s eyes widened, and she struggled to sit up, only stopping when the gun was pointed at her.
“Please, you got what you came for, please! Just leave my children alone!”
“I’m afraid we can’t do that,” the last man, who was empty handed, said offhandly, eyes glued to the little girl. His eyes were predatory, and the woman’s eyes widened again at this.
“Oh God please! PLEASE!” she suddenly screamed, scrambling against the floor to get up, a baby’s cries suddenly joining the fray of the late night bloodshed. “My baby, my babies!”
The man with the knife laughed again, turning to stare at her. “Tell you what. We’ll make the baby’s death nice and painless. He’ll be dead in seconds.”
“Please, please!” she cried, still scrambling to stand up, but screamed in pain when her broken leg was kicked harshly again.
Striding forward, the man with the knife took hold of the little girl’s arm and grabbed the baby out of her hold, thrusting her into the third man’s waiting arms and holding the baby up like a target, a little ways away from his own body. The baby’s cries got louder.
“Have at it,” he said, at the same time as the third man pushed the little girl onto the bed, straddling her, hands pushing up under her shirt as she turned her head to stare, horrified, into her father’s dead, brown eyes.
With a loud scream, a horrified cry of “NO!” and a loud bang, the baby’s cries abruptly cut off, the bedroom door slammed open, and a boy, no more than nine with curly, red brown hair jumped in front of his mother at the same time as a second loud bang resonated around the room.
“Kyuhyun!”
--
With a strangled shout, Kim Jongwoon bolted upright in his bed and tried to reach out for the little boy who’d jumped in the way of his mother’s death, his breathing heavy and harsh, his forehead beaded with sweat, and his mind fuzzy and alert, whirling with images from a nightmare that’d made a little too much sense to be dream.
It was with a loud groan that Jongwoon, the man known as Yesung to his colleagues and friends, clutched at his chest where he could practically feel his heart beating right out of his chest, and he hung his head, mind buzzing and on high alert, the adrenaline rush kicking his body into overdrive.
He could feel every muscle in his body thrum with energy, and it was a distinct feeling he knew all too well. As an undercover cop in Seoul, he recognized the friendly feeling of adrenaline, and recognized the nausea it, as well as the countless murder’s he’d witnessed, brought on.
It didn’t stop the feeling, the images, from making him want to throw up, though - something he never truly had the luxury of actually feeling until after the moment had passed and he’d been allowed to return home.
This time, however, he knew he could stand up and move to the restroom without a second thought to anything or anyone, because it’d been nothing more than a nightmare as he’d lay in his own bed.
No one was relying on him to save them, because none of the people who’d been killed were real, and their lives were long since forfeited if the way his dream told it were true.
Groaning again, Yesung moved his hands to clutch at his head where he could feel a headache coming on, and, ignoring the nausea he could feel swimming in his stomach, he stood up and stumbled down the hallway of his flat into his kitchen where he started brewing himself a pot of coffee.
The smell was immediately welcoming, and he sighed out in relief when the nausea begun to die down. He knew, with one swig of the hot coffee, his headache would start to fade away as the caffeine begin to burn off the edge of his adrenaline.
Yesung was used to nightmares like the one he’d had tonight, and almost didn’t give it a second thought. With his job, it was normal to come home at night and dream of the families he’d saved, the families he’d been forced to comfort, and the near mistakes he’d made.
It was nothing new, but as Yesung was pouring himself a cup of coffee, he did wonder why the face of the little boy - Cho Kyuhyun - looked so familiar, and yet he couldn’t nail him down to a case he’d worked on…
A draft seemed to blow in then, and it made Yesung shiver, but as he took a sip of his coffee, he took no notice of it.
--
Masterlist/Character Information
THIS STORY IS ABANDONED AND WILL NOT BE COMPLETED. UPON REQUEST, I AM WILLING TO WRITE UP AN ADDITIONAL "CHAPTER" EXPLAINING THE REST OF THE STORYLINE AND HOW IT WAS MEANT TO END, BUT IT WILL NOT BE COMPLETED. The contents of this masterlist has been unlocked for those who still want to read the story; however, as I have already stated, it will not be updated at any point in its original capacity. Thank you for your interest and time.
Title: The Shadow Kissed
Author: insanityplays
Rating: R
Pairing: KRY (Kyuhyun/Ryeowook/Yesung), More to be added as reveled
Characters: Psychic!Ryeowook, Psycho!Kyuhyun, Cop!Yesung, rest of Super Junior + M, appearances by DBSK, SNSD, and f(x)
Summary: After a nightmare Kim Jongwoon forwent paying any special attention to, he’s placed on a cold case fourteen years old where the only witness is a soon to be twenty-three year old man locked away in a mental “hospital” owned by the same people suspected for the murder/arson case of the Cho Family. Boring re-investigation aside, Jongwoon finds himself thrust into living his nightmare - only this time, it isn’t a dream.
Disclaimer: I do not own.
Warning: Includes, or will include, Angst, Drama, Romance, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Action, and Mystery. Also includes, or will include, paranormal activity, ghosts, attempted murder and murder.
- Prologue -
It was a cool night that night, the moon a perfect circle in the sky, casting an eerie glow on the two story house below in the middle of three acres of land a little ways away from the bright city of Seoul. In every direction there were woods - giant clusters of trees that left the house looking abandoned in the middle of a meadow.
Hidden in the surrounding trees near a lake that appeared black, depthless, and menacing in the night, someone stalked the shadows, a hazy blur flitting from tree to tree, and if one looked close enough, he would see not just one man, but three, skirting the lake and traipsing past fallen leaves and branches, careful to avoid detection from anyone that might be out and about that night lest they be identified later for what they were about to do.
If one listened closely enough, he would hear the soft brush of fabric against branches and leaves, the faint rustle that quick-stepped shoes made in the foliage, and note when all three men came together with a silent, affirming grunt that assured the others their scouting had produced nothing before splitting back up and continuing their path to the only house farther through the woods.
The night was mostly silent, the two story house dark except for the full moon’s illumination, and a dark deed had been planned that no one would know about until it was too late.
In the trees, behind the Cho residence, two owls peered out into the night, and watched as the three men surrounded the house, stalking about it in the trees, assuring themselves no one was outside before slipping into the shadows at the back of the house and, as silently as they could, broke the door’s window, reaching in and unlocking the door before slipping inside.
When screams erupted from the two story house, it was only the owls who heard, and with soft hoots, they soared off into the night, far away from the nightmare that was going on down below.
--
“Help! Help! Somebody please help!”
“Shut up you old hag, no one can hear you!”
“Please, somebody help us, please!”
“I said, shut up!” and with a sickening crunching sound, the sound of a woman’s bones breaking under the pressure of a big black boot echoed in the eerily silent bedroom.
With a moan, the woman rolled onto her side and clutched at her broken leg, glaring up at the man standing over her with a knife. “Bastards, murderers, monsters!” she hissed, gasping when her broken leg was kicked.
Closer to the bed, where a man lay face down in a pool of his own blood soaking the sheets red, stood a little girl, no more than fourteen, staring in horror at her mother on the floor, and holding a tightly wrapped bundle close to her chest.
Another man, standing a little behind the man with the knife and holding a gun, begun to laugh, the man with the knife joining in after a few seconds, and the sound was cold, so cold, cutting off only a few moments after it begin.
“Ah, that we are, that we are,” the man with the knife said as he got down on one knee and brought the knife up close to her neck. “But we can do so much better, so much worse, than just shooting a man…” he said in a low purr, black grin on his face and so close, so close, to the woman.
The woman recoiled, and the man laughed again, the man with the gun joining in once more.
The man with the knife stood up and moved away from the woman then, closer to the little girl standing besides the bed, eyes suddenly locked with hers. The mother’s eyes widened, and she struggled to sit up, only stopping when the gun was pointed at her.
“Please, you got what you came for, please! Just leave my children alone!”
“I’m afraid we can’t do that,” the last man, who was empty handed, said offhandly, eyes glued to the little girl. His eyes were predatory, and the woman’s eyes widened again at this.
“Oh God please! PLEASE!” she suddenly screamed, scrambling against the floor to get up, a baby’s cries suddenly joining the fray of the late night bloodshed. “My baby, my babies!”
The man with the knife laughed again, turning to stare at her. “Tell you what. We’ll make the baby’s death nice and painless. He’ll be dead in seconds.”
“Please, please!” she cried, still scrambling to stand up, but screamed in pain when her broken leg was kicked harshly again.
Striding forward, the man with the knife took hold of the little girl’s arm and grabbed the baby out of her hold, thrusting her into the third man’s waiting arms and holding the baby up like a target, a little ways away from his own body. The baby’s cries got louder.
“Have at it,” he said, at the same time as the third man pushed the little girl onto the bed, straddling her, hands pushing up under her shirt as she turned her head to stare, horrified, into her father’s dead, brown eyes.
With a loud scream, a horrified cry of “NO!” and a loud bang, the baby’s cries abruptly cut off, the bedroom door slammed open, and a boy, no more than nine with curly, red brown hair jumped in front of his mother at the same time as a second loud bang resonated around the room.
“Kyuhyun!”
--
With a strangled shout, Kim Jongwoon bolted upright in his bed and tried to reach out for the little boy who’d jumped in the way of his mother’s death, his breathing heavy and harsh, his forehead beaded with sweat, and his mind fuzzy and alert, whirling with images from a nightmare that’d made a little too much sense to be dream.
It was with a loud groan that Jongwoon, the man known as Yesung to his colleagues and friends, clutched at his chest where he could practically feel his heart beating right out of his chest, and he hung his head, mind buzzing and on high alert, the adrenaline rush kicking his body into overdrive.
He could feel every muscle in his body thrum with energy, and it was a distinct feeling he knew all too well. As an undercover cop in Seoul, he recognized the friendly feeling of adrenaline, and recognized the nausea it, as well as the countless murder’s he’d witnessed, brought on.
It didn’t stop the feeling, the images, from making him want to throw up, though - something he never truly had the luxury of actually feeling until after the moment had passed and he’d been allowed to return home.
This time, however, he knew he could stand up and move to the restroom without a second thought to anything or anyone, because it’d been nothing more than a nightmare as he’d lay in his own bed.
No one was relying on him to save them, because none of the people who’d been killed were real, and their lives were long since forfeited if the way his dream told it were true.
Groaning again, Yesung moved his hands to clutch at his head where he could feel a headache coming on, and, ignoring the nausea he could feel swimming in his stomach, he stood up and stumbled down the hallway of his flat into his kitchen where he started brewing himself a pot of coffee.
The smell was immediately welcoming, and he sighed out in relief when the nausea begun to die down. He knew, with one swig of the hot coffee, his headache would start to fade away as the caffeine begin to burn off the edge of his adrenaline.
Yesung was used to nightmares like the one he’d had tonight, and almost didn’t give it a second thought. With his job, it was normal to come home at night and dream of the families he’d saved, the families he’d been forced to comfort, and the near mistakes he’d made.
It was nothing new, but as Yesung was pouring himself a cup of coffee, he did wonder why the face of the little boy - Cho Kyuhyun - looked so familiar, and yet he couldn’t nail him down to a case he’d worked on…
A draft seemed to blow in then, and it made Yesung shiver, but as he took a sip of his coffee, he took no notice of it.
--
Masterlist/Character Information