Tick-tock, boy. Time is running short. Although the weather was warm, the voice that slithered through his mind made chill-bumps rise on Kale's arm. "I know," he whispered beneath his breath. "How well I know."
It was early afternoon on a weekday, leaving the park empty of children. Kale had banked on that. The Barghest who clung to him favored the young ones, and it was nearly impossible to dissuade him from harming them. No, if he was forced to obey the curse set upon him, he would do it under his own terms, out here where he couldn't harm his family or any innocents.
A few middle-aged men dominated the tennis courts, and in the distance, Kale could see a young mother pushing a stroller. He turned away from them, choosing instead a path that led along the edges of the park. Perhaps he would engage in a bit of vandalism, or maybe he'd tag a few benches with the can of spray paint hidden in the inner pocket of his light jacket. He'd done worse, after all.
Yet still he felt a twinge of guilt. He hated living this life, compelled to do things that went against his morals. With a stormy look on his face, he shoved his hands deep into his pockets and hunched his shoulders. His fingers folded around a piece of paper, a gas station receipt, and he crumpled it up and threw it onto the neatly-mown grass beside the path. Littering? The voice sounded amused now. How juvenile. You can't possibly think that would count against your quota.
Kale didn't even bother to respond. He'd had to try. A few benches sat alongside the path, sheltered from the sun by a tree whose branches stretched out over the walking trail. The futility of his situation rose within him, sparking anger that fueled the destructive acts the Barghest so craved. With a growl, he kicked the bench over, stomping on the boards that ran parallel across the back so hard that they splintered. Better.
With a defeated sigh, he slumped to the ground beneath the tree, tucking his knees up to his chest and dangling his arms across them. His dark eyes stared gloomily into the distance as a light wind ruffled his hair. Life, he thought, truly was pointless.