consume the confusing fluff.

It was a cold day in a concrete hell, the con men were out on the streets, pickpockets were roaming, but it's not my job to clean up this bustling city. No, my only job is to shut up and figure out the tasks I’m given, but there's a point in every detective's life where they can’t figure out the mystery they’re handed. And on a chilly December morning, I was handed my unsolvable case.

I had just settled down in my office, the small chime attached to the door rang as something stepped inside the office. I still to this day don't know what it was, but it had a job for me, and that's all that mattered.

“I will never get used to this world without color...” It mumbled, the figure was pure black like a human constantly shrouded in this black smoke. Much shorter than I was, and for some reason I can never remember what its voice sounded like, all I remember was that it was a dreadful sound.

It hacked from the cigarette smoke, and walked over to me and handing me a thick file filled with papers. It gave off no sense of danger, so I never said anything. Jobs were jobs, even if the task was from the devil itself.

There was a note attached to the outside of the file, it was the request from the shadow critter. It went something like this : “Hello, I understand that you are a private investigator, last night I had my writing stolen from me. Without my writing, my children will die.”

More surprising than the theft was the fact that the beast had children. But it was a cold day in hell before I let easy money like this slip by my hands.

I accepted the creature's request, took a final shot of the whiskey I had on my desk, and followed it to the scene of the crime.

As I stepped into the apartment where the crime took place, everything seemed strangely neat and tidy. For a place that had been recently robbed, it seemed too peaceful. It was even more suspect since it had told me it had children. And it was a weekend, so I saw little reason for the little children not to be at home or nearby, even if they weren't home there was no sign of anything childlike in the house. This case was full of plot holes and missing pieces, this case was a slippery slope to be sure. I turned to the figure for answers, but it was gone when I turned around.

It left a trail of black mist that I followed into another room, an office to be precise.

It was small and dingy, the wallpaper was browning like a ripened banana. Papers were scattered everywhere, and books covered every slot and shelf they could be shoved into. The crown jewel of the mess was the desk, supposedly the spot where the stories had been stolen. When I had asked how it was stolen, I got no response, as if the creature had not thought that far ahead. As I pulled out my gun, realizing what had truly happened there, something crashed through the apartment building.

I had dealt with the supernatural before, but these things were unnatural even for the other side. The glass window shattered, as I shielded myself from the shards I saw what had broken the window. It was like Beelzebub itself had crawled out of a circle of hell, it had white fur, and pitch black skin, it flew around like a bug searching for escape from a predator. It was frantic and fast like a hummingbird. It was looking for something.

The black monster of mist had not moved ever since we both had entered the workspace. It had no eyes, so I couldn't see where it was looking, or its expression. I took another stance with my gun aiming for the figure.

“There was never a missing piece of literature there!” I yelled cold faced, this wasn't the worst I've seen, but it might've been my worst case if not for what had happened next.

As I held the figure at gunpoint, a massive vine protruded into the window. A sly dame and tricky fellow walked off the plant stem like they had taken an elevator. I could deal with banshees and the unholy, but these breeds of devil were the most extra I had ever seen. Not even a silver bullet would take out the evil that manifested in these creatures, it came to a realization. I watched as the pair walked in through the broken window, and the flying creature immediately zipped next to them. Like Cerberus staying at Hades' side, the pair looked at me, and then noticed the figure which had not moved.

At that point at hand, my gun was on standby and was sure not pointing them at the creatures that actually seemed half conscious.

 It was the strangest atmosphere I had ever been apart from. Everything seemed very light and humorous, as if nothing was taken seriously by these supernatural things. But for me this was  grave, the fact that something out there could change the physical world to such an extent and not mind or feel any care was not a good sign. 

The white haired dame and sly brown haired lad, along with the creeping, crawling, flying furry hell beast crept closer to the figure as if a big cat getting ready to pounce. When the moment they got a foot too close, some kind of sinkhole was created, and they all were sucked inside. 

As if god itself had commanded the creatures to go back to their fiery domain.

 But I don't believe in gods, I do believe in the hell and magic that he has created though, as the three creatures descended back to where they belonged I watched as the figure eroded away. 

Now you may be wondering what the truth I realized was. The truth is nothing, there was no chapter to tale that was stolen, for the chapter, tale, story, whatever you may call it never existed. As the world rests and time fades, I went to my own house to settle down for the night.

I walked into my office on a chilly December morning. 

I placed my hat and coat on the rack in my office. I lit my cigarette, ready for another cold day in a concrete hell. The chime on the door rang, a gorgeous dame walked in with deep eyes and a coat of fur, reminding me of the black from my last case. Black? What black thing, now I can’t quite seem to put my finger on it, Tch, what was I saying again…

 Well I have many cases, many stories, no need to remember every single damned one.