Baked Scribe Flashback : Yokai
Reginald walked around the perimeter of the site one last time to make sure everything was in order for the board’s inspection. They would want an explanation for the delays, why they had ended up breaking ground over a month past schedule.
The farmer who had owned this centralized property within the zone had been the last holdout, the one who had refused every offer, regardless of how high. Finally, in the end he had slammed his door, flatly stating that no sum of money would ever convince him to turn his back on what was rightfully his. The land had been in his family for generations and he would never give it up, especially not for something like “commercial development.” Had it not been for the man’s untimely death, negotiations would have been lost forever in a perpetual limbo, never to be resolved.
As he walked, Reginald heard a heavy clanking sound coming from somewhere among the long row of tractors and equipment. He approached slowly, hoping to find an animal scrounging for food, but bracing himself for a homeless person to come shambling out from cover, smelling of booze.
What he found was neither of those things. The being was human in shape, but radiated a bright yellow light as it stood up from a crouched position to meet him. Reginald gaped and took several staggering steps back as the figure began moving forward, one arm lifting up to point, as if accusing Reginald. There was a flicker, like the picture coming back to a static filled television screen and, for just a moment, he had seen a face. Familiar. The face of the man who had owned this land. The one who had held out against selling and died under mysterious circumstances.
Circumstances which Reginald had helped bring about.
His legs went out from underneath him as if they had ceased to exist. He was on his knees, immobile, as the thing rushed forward with arms stretched out. There was another blinding flash as the light entered him, a searing pain as he was heated from the inside out, temperature spiking, until the pressure in his head caused his eyes to rupture. He collapsed, only aware for a few moments longer as he heard the scraping of footsteps receding into nothingness.
The blazing, corporeal figure stepped out from behind the shed, now having become a perfect carbon copy of the body it had just occupied. The new and improved Reginald checked his watch and began preparations for his meeting. The investors would be expecting results.
