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iraven-underscore · 2 years ago

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Here's part 1 act 2. please comment any critiques or criticisms. or if it sucks yell at me.

:: III ::

I breathe out a sigh and close the journal. Great Grandfather didn’t write anything about a snowy world. I’ve skimmed the next four journals’ tables of contents, but nothing has mentioned that insane place.

“This sucks!” I let out a small shout at the ceiling. Damned old man had to have been senile. How could he not mention anything about this? Still though, I can’t shake this feeling of something bad. What was that anyway? How could I fight like that? How did I know what the hell the beast that’s now shrunk and is lying on my bed is? What even is a Lycaon!? It’s been about an hour since my battle with the beast. After that strange man left, and I shifted back home, I cleaned up any mess, including wrapping my arm and cleaning any blood that had dripped from either of us. Now wearing a long sleeved shirt, I’ve been scouring for hints of that snowy place.

A knock at my door interrupts any further brooding. I get up and gently open the door. Before I can manage to say anything, I’m on the ground with the weight of a person on top.

“Oh, I just missed you so much!” Akari Holter is tightly hugging my body. “My little boy,”

“I’m not little anymore, Mom!” I complain to her, but it’s all in good fun. She used to coddle me like this when I was a toddler and has been doing it ever since as a joke.

“It’s good to see you, Bell!” Even though she’s trying to put pep into her voice, I can tell she’s extremely fatigued, either from the flight home or from work. Is that why she hasn’t noticed the beast on my bed? “This road trip is going to be so much fun!”

She eventually stands up, pulling me with her.

“So, where are we going for the trip anyways?” I ask her. She gives me a pointed look.

“Didn’t your father tell you?” I lightly shake my head in denial. Mom sends an exasperated sigh into the air. “I told him to. Well, it doesn’t matter, because now it’s a surprise!”

That was mean, punishing me for his crimes. I guess this is just the kind of person my mother is: sly, clever, and willing to follow through to protect her family, she said she had picked up from her father. Perhaps that’s why she works so hard.

Mom starts to leave, but turns just before closing the door. “Make sure you pack tonight, we’re going early and I want to make sure you get enough sleep.”

“Okay.” I give a noncommittal affirmative. She stops again.

“I’m serious, Bell. Pack, and sleep early,” I can tell, Mom. While I may not see her often, I can at least see when she’s being serious, I’m not that socially inept.

She sends another pointed look and squints at me before leaving in total.

I close the door behind. With my back against it, I slide down and huff out a breath.

“How did she not notice you?” I ask the Lycaon. It stares at me with the off putting yet oddly inviting icy blue eyes before jumping off the bed and sitting a few feet away. Cautiously, I pick my next words, “Yes? Do you need something? I don’t exactly have food for you.”

Since our fight, the Lycaon has shrinked to about a fourth of its original size, around the size of a husky. It looks similar to one, too. The beast comes closer until its nose is almost nuzzling mine. My heart pounds. Did it not like that I helped it? My back is completely pressed into the door as its chilling eyes bore into mine. Its left eye twitches. My hand trembles at my side helplessly as I melt fully into the will of this beast. Why couldn’t I kill it? It lightly noses my cheek. Something clicks inside me as I get the distinct feeling of a chain wrapping itself around my chest. It— no; she nods her head. She?

“What… was that?” I ask her. She tilts her head to the left in confusion.

I feel some kind of connection to the animal in front of me. What was that? This monster seems to confuse me every few seconds.

Why does it feel as though I’ve known this thing my whole life, as if she is something to protect and help. She doesn’t even have a name!

“Hm… how about… Cynthia?” I say before I can stop myself. She tilts her head to the side. It’s kind of cute.

No, that's not right. Why would that be cute? This thing practically just tried to kill me! Every time I look at the beast, my heart seems to think that she’s safe to be around. Against my better judgment, I quietly elaborate, “Y’know, like a name for you…”

The creature seems to think for a few seconds before shaking her head. Am I really naming a fucking monster that just tried to kill me?

“Maybe… Evelyn?” This time she strangely perks up her ears and nods. Did she recognize the name? From what? Why do I care? “Alright, so, Evelyn, why haven't you left yet?”

Evelyn glares at me before eventually standing up and sauntering off to my bed. Great, thanks for nothing. God, am I seriously asking an illusory animal this?

Is she perhaps hungry? I’m also a little bit hungry, now that I think about it.

“Hey, um… are you hungry?” That got her attention, she’s now staring with her ears pointed straight up. “I’ll take that as a yes, I guess.”

I stand up and wander over to the door, I’ll be back.”

Closing it behind me, I barely get three feet before she’s scratching at the door. “You can't come with me, what if they see you?”

I open it to speak more, but she slides through the small crack before I can do anything. “Come on, Evelyn, please.”

She rolls her eyes and I sigh. Trudging through the hallways and down the stairs of the house, Evelyn navigates through them as if she’s lived here for years.

Finally we enter the kitchen. Opening the fridge, I leave enough space for her to stick her head inside to see what there is. Nosing around, Evelyn settles on a small uncooked slab of beef. Great, I’ll have to figure out how to explain this later.

Quietly, I extract the package from the shelf and hold it away from Evelyn so she doesn’t decide to eat early.

“What’cha got there?” Mom’s voice rings out from behind me. Wheeling around, I hide the meat behind my back.

“Oh, y’know, just some snacks.” I say normally. She sends me a sly smile.

“Hoh? ‘Just some snacks’ you say? Then why are you talking in such a high-pitched voice?” Shit! She’s caught on. We’re in too deep, have’ta come clean.

“Uh huh, just some snacks,” Dammit! No, you were supposed to come clean! Now you’ve fucked it!

“So if I look into here, nothing will be out of place?” I nod vigorously.

“Yep.” my voice cracks. If Mom hadn’t been clued in yet, she has been now.

Leaning on the counter, she puts her chin into a cradle made by her hands with a smug grin. I side-step around to the hallway to hide the raw meat before fleeing down the passage. I can hear her subtle laughs behind me.

Leaning on a wall on the second floor, I pant out several times before walking the rest of the way to my room. When I finally reach it, I almost slam the door open before I realize that Evelyn is with me.

“Evelyn?” I ask while entering my room. Motes of a blue light gather before forming what suspiciously looks like a canine nose. Then, lines of blue form the shape of Evelyn before her form is completely covered in blue. The light pops and disappears. Evelyn’s gray to white fur coat is visible as she hops around on the bed, licking her lips.

“Is that why Mom couldn’t see you before?” I ask her. She gives a curt nod to the question. I sigh. I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to have a small snack too, at least it will tide my stomach over for now.

Grabbing my bag from school, I drop everything onto the floor next to the mirror. Searching around I find a small protein bar. Picking it up, something underneath it catches my eye.

It’s a white box with a distinct red pattern on the top. My heart sinks. Taped onto it is a lighter and a small piece of paper.

Hey Bell,

I know you’ve been feeling a little down recently, so I had my guy buy you these. I know these were the ones you liked the most. If you don’t want them, feel free to trash them, but just know that I’m here for you if you need to talk.

~Gray.

Motherfucker. I was hoping to be wrong, but it seems Gray left me a winter break ‘gift.’ I think for a long second before tossing it back into the bag, turning back to the problem at hand.

“You know, you aren’t about to eat on the bed, right?” She tilts her head and I sigh. Sliding the glass door to the side, I step out into the cool and moist air on the balcony, Evelyn in tow.

After watching me remove the plastic wrap and set the black styrofoam platter down, Evelyn takes big bites out of the meat with an occasional cry of pain.

While waiting for Evelyn to finish, I eat the bar I had grabbed, just some generic brand, vaguely-peanut-butter-tasting log, but it will be enough sustenance to make it through the rest of the night.

When Evelyn is done, we re-enter the room as she licks her lips clean. Sliding shut the door, I collapse on my bed after trashing the styrofoam. Evelyn noses my side. “Mmnm.”

Something presses down the mattress next to me. Before I can do anything a massive furry weight smashes into me with a grunt.

Lifting my head I let out a moan. “What the hell?”

The monster groans before shifting her body further onto me.

“Do you trust me that much?” I struggle to ask from underneath her.

She grunts again. My heart pounds. Here was a terrifying beast, one that I know could probably shred me to pieces, even in her injured state. I quickly search around me for the switchblade I know is slightly tucked under my pillow. I carefully move my arm and grab the handle, making sure the safety of the mechanism is on, before tightly gripping the handle at my side. I don’t notice it, but my own consciousness slowly drifts off into the warmth of the furry body next to me.

:: IV ::

When I come too, Evelyn’s weight has disappeared. Sitting up, I take in my surroundings. Light streams in from the window onto the floor, and Evelyn is lying in the beam. She looks up at me before laying her head back down. I take in a deep breath.

Eventually getting up, I stalk over to the bathroom; the switchblade I had fallen asleep with weighing deep in my pocket. Quickly taking a shower and brushing out my hair, I return to the main area. Within the ten minutes I was gone, Evelyn has moved to bed. The alarm clock on my nightstand says it's currently 9:57, only about an hour until we leave for the trip. I walk over to the desk and stuff two of the random thirty journals into a bag. From the closet, I grab nine shirts, four pairs of jeans, four pairs of shorts, and ten pairs of socks and underwear. Finally going over what was in my school bag, I put a notebook and my laptop into another pocket. Mom said it was a road trip, so if I wanted to…

After a long internal debate, I grab the small box with the lighter and stuff it into the bottom of the bag. “That should be enough, right?”

Even though I’m not talking to Evelyn, she answers me with a grunt. “Yeah, that’s probably enough.”

I still can’t get that hunter from last night out of my head. The way he dressed was something straight out of a Victorian or Steampunk dystopia, top hat and all. And that weapon… It was a beautiful blade. I can still picture it in my mind, the cold and sharp steel pressing into my neck, right at the carotid artery… I’m shivering. Something deep inside me wants to inspect the sword with critical eye, but my being fears it.

“Evelyn,” I say, and her ears perk up and she looks at me as I sit down on the bed, “I know you can’t really talk back… but… do you know what’s happening to me?”

Evelyn tilts her head in confusion. “I figured. Why am I so okay with the idea of something like you not only in my house, but in my room, sleeping on my bed, eating my food. You just tried to kill me ten hours ago.”

She stares deep into my eyes, her icy blue orbs leaving small wisps of blue energy before jumping down from the bed and scratching at the door. I huff out a dry, cynical laugh, and it feels as though all of my mistrust from last night has disappeared. I’m confused about my own emotions. Is this an effect Evelyn has? Or am I longing for any sense of companionship that I let a monster fill that void? “Fine.”

Quickly bounding down the halls and stairs into the kitchen, I open the fridge and pull out a leftover chicken breast my dad must have had before I got back. I manage to avoid any interaction with my parents before finally returning to my room. Evelyn immediately perks up her head and ears as I enter the space, before jumping down from the bed and in front of the door to the balcony. She learns quickly…

Tossing the breast into her open maw, I lean on the railing. Twice now in the last twelve hours I’ve come across this situation. A slow and long whip of wind billows through the old wooden posts. It’s cold, and I’m wearing a short sleeve shirt and exercise shorts, not exactly prime outside-when-it-just-rained covering. The mahogany planks are wet and soft, and water squeezes out of the pores in the wood when I step on them.

Evelyn quickly finishes the breast, much faster than when she had the beef, even though they were of a similar size. Did she like the chicken more? I wonder. Going back inside, I triple check my bag to make sure everything is there. By now it’s about half-past ten, and I know that my mother will be barging in soon. Evelyn lightly groans at me.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Of course, she doesn’t give me a proper answer and just sits down in front of the door. “Is that supposed to say that you’re leaving with me?”

Nodding lightly, she then returns to her spot on the bed.

“No. No no no no. You aren’t allowed to come with me. What if Mom or Dad see you? How do I explain that?” She doesn’t dignify me with a response, and instead rests her head on my pillow.

Somehow I’m going to have to explain why thick dog hairs are spread around my room, but I’ll leave that for a future Bell to explain.

I can hear footsteps outside of my door. They’re heavier than my mother’s, so it must be Dad. Evelyn, with her ears perked, disappears into blue motes of light, leaving no trace of her existence other than a quickly fading impression on my mattress.

My father knocks on the door. Quickly standing up and opening it, he asks, “You all ready for the trip?”

I grab my bag, “Yeah, I am.”

He nods and motions for me to follow. I sling the pack over my shoulder, grab a random journal from the shelf and stalk after him. After we reach the garage, he pulls my bag away from me and throws it into the trunk space of the family SUV with the others. Mom is already sitting in the passenger seat, reading a book. Sliding into the seat behind the driver, I check which journal I brought. Number twenty three is its designation. Dad starts the car and slowly pulls out of the garage. I look down at the squiggles of old ink sprawling over the musty pages. I don’t know if it’s just compressed school stress or everything last night catching up to me, but I feel extremely exhausted. With no energy left in my body, I let out a light, shaky breath before spacing out into some strange place, and slowly falling asleep.

I’m unsure of when I wake up, but when I do, the sky’s darkened, and the only illumination of the outside world is the streetlights and car headlights. My face feels sore from repeatedly slamming into the door after every bump in the road. Rubbing my eyes, I arch my back in an attempt to stretch the ache out. It doesn’t work, but it makes me feel a little better.

“You awake back there, Bell?” my father asks. I glance at the front of the car. Mom is passed out, with her seat pushed back into a reclining position as Dad drives.

“Mmm,” I groan out loudly. He laughs before asking me about school. I only lie slightly. “It's going fine. My grades are better than I thought they would be, and I have friends to talk to and hang out with. What time is it?”

“Good. You shouldn’t be all alone and cramped up in that dorm of yours. And it’s about three in the morning, you slept for a long time,” he continues talking, but I’m already spaced, observing my surroundings and not listening. When I had fallen asleep, we were still in a grassy plains area of the state, but we’ve long since entered a very forested mountainous region, filled with several twists and turns along the rocky wall. I’m not sure how Mom can sleep through something like this. My hand rests on my great grandfather’s journal. I have yet to open this specific one, but I don’t think I’m going to be able to get any more sleep.

“Where are we going anyways?” I ask. Dad looks slightly to the left, his gaze momentarily trained on my eyes in the rear-view mirror.

“We’re staying in a villa in a small town called Knox near the border. It’s pretty unknown,” he explains, “smaller than Galliemourne.”

He reaches into the center console and pulls out a thin brochure before tossing it back at me. I’m not really paying attention, and the color inked paper slaps me in the face. Letting out a moan of pain, I tenderly rub at my cheek. Glancing down at the offending paper in my lap, I read the title. A Wonderful Opportunity Knox at Your Door! Corny.

Skimming the rest of the text, I gain a subtle understanding of the town. It’s quaint, and as my father said, smaller than Galliemourne, an already tiny establishment at about twenty square miles, while Knox sits at a ripe eleven point five three square miles. To put that in perspective, it’s about a fourth of the size of San Francisco. It takes only about five hours to walk across the town.

On a separate page is a small map of Knox. In the center lies a Clocktower, shown by a clock face, surrounded by a market district. Close to the northeast corner, marked by text writing Mountains, is a water tower. There were several other small notations dedicated to a key, but those were the only ones I really found notable. It seems Dad was right, Knox really was just a nondescript, unknown, and out of the way town. Perfect for someone who wants to escape their normal life for a short while. I can see why Dad picked it.

Rain droplets pelt the side of the car, leaving splatterings on the glass. I follow one’s trail with my eyes until it ends in the crack between the window and door. My head is buzzing strangely. I feel like something is watching me from the treeline. I sigh as I look back again at the journal. Opening it and flipping to a random page, I start reading.

The neat squiggles of my great grandfather’s handwriting seem to float off the page and into the bright blue sky. Yeah, nevermind.

Closing the book and stashing it in the backseat pocket, I start looking out the window again. The rain pelts the car hard, as if they are turning to globs of ice before reaching the shell.

My eyelids feel heavy, blinking to get rid of the weariness. The car stops. A rest stop parking lot seems to appear. Did I fall asleep again? My chest shutters as I sigh deeply. My parents aren’t in the car. They must have gone inside to the bathrooms.

The wind rustles some bushes outside. Gazing out of the window, my eye catches on the particular offender. A large honeysuckle shrub rattles, its usually green leaves, now a yellow black due to the streetlights, shaking against more trees and plants like it. I blink, and a cold wind tears through the car. My eyes slink to the two broken windows in the front of the car and the cracked windshield. Shards of glass tinkle outside as gusts of wind drag the sharp splinters across the frozen asphalt.

A rocky scraping sound echoes through the parking lot. From the bushes comes a shadow. Standing there is a man shaped figure. It has the head of a deer with massive antlers splaying out. Its flesh is rotting, and there are small patches where you can see through to the bone and muscle, notably one on its forehead. Blood drips from its clawed hands. Lightly torn clothes show a hairy body underneath. My stomach feels grainy. Bile threatens to rise to the back of my throat. Static fills my mind. A sharp ringing fills the empty space. The wind gets louder. My head is pounding. I squint as the breeze stings my eyes. Hail pours down from the sky. Another bush rustles. And then another. And another. Soon the entire parking lot is moving.

I panic and drop out of the car, slamming my shoulder against the asphalt. Sharp pain erupts from all over my body as the balls of ice fall on me, slicing into all of my exposed skin. Warm tears leak out, or at least I think that they’re tears. The static grows louder, filling any remaining space in my head.

A crunching sound takes my attention. The ice cracks under the weight of the monster. Its feet are thinly wrapped with strips of cloth, the tips frozen with blood. I can feel the bite of snow and ice along the side of my face as I lie on the ground. My body grows numb and cold. Am I bleeding out?

A shadow overtakes my body. Looking up is the silhouette of the monster, the deer skull covering the moon’s light. The cracks in the sky darken, becoming more apparent each second. I shut my eyes in anticipation of darkness. The static and ringing suddenly stops. The sounds of hissing, meat and bone being cleaved, and something heavy falling. Warmth slowly spills over my face.

My eyes open to red. Snow is rapidly turned into a dark crimson slush. I quickly scramble to my feet. The massive body of the monster lies barren in front of me, splayed in a way as if it were struck quickly from behind. A long and deep cut crawls along its neck. Something sharp had slit and nearly beheaded the monstrosity.

A deep sense of fear permeates my entire body, and I take a few steps back. A cold drop of sweat rolls down my face. Ice roughly slides along my forearm as I trip on the quickly melting snow, but I still backpedal, as if I’m being pulled by some unknown force. Dread builds in a growing pit in my stomach. Something deep inside me is anticipating It.

“Hey Bell,” Dad says as he opens the car door and slides inside. I grunt in acknowledgment. “Only around two hours until we’re at Knox.”

“Okay.” He starts the car, the engine hums lightly as the heater kicks in. He leans over to the stereo and changes the channel on the radio.

“And we’re here live and joining us is a local astronomer to talk about the nearing lunar eclipse and meteor shower in about three days. Now, Jerry, tell us how people will be able to see these events and what to expect from it.”

“Unm, thanks for the introduction, Dan, uh, but, uh, yeah, the eclipse will be able to be seen from the Americas, west Europe, and west Africa, from around—”

The snow chills to the bottom of my spine. I’m uncomfortably lying in the snow, warm tears streaming down my face and into the cold winds of the blizzard. My leg is bent at an unnatural angle. Oh, wait—

It's not at an angle, but rather alone a few feet away from the rest of me.

My mind grows fuzzier as my focus shifts back to the sky, the deep purples laced with sinister black cracks. A great colorful nebulous stains the heavens with swirls of red, white, and pink. Flashes of a great ring of fire overlay the glowing white Moon, the center filled with an emptiness. Flares of light explode outward from the circle.

My head slowly falls to the side, white hair covering part of my vision. Dirty black dress shoes step into the red snow as fire fills my mind.

“We’ll get to see that eclipse while we’re in Knox,” Dad says, “maybe that’ll help cheer you up? You always did like stargazing with Grandma.”

“Maybe…” I noncommittally respond. After a few minutes of awkward silence between us, Mom finally returns from the bathroom.

“Oooh, it’s toasty in here.” she offhandedly says.

“Are we ready to go?” asks Dad.

“Y-yeah, I think soooo…!” I yelp. Mom violently spins in her seat to face me.

“What was that?” she questions. A feeling of phantom pain fills my leg to the hip.

“Ahh, nothing! My foot must’ve fallen asleep, that's all!” I gnash my teeth together in an attempt to look collected. She looks at me in skepticism, her gray eyes filled with worry. “I’m fine, I promise.”

Mom huffs out a sigh before facing forward again. Dad pulls the car out of the parking lot and back onto the highway.

Turning my focus to the passing forest, I buckle up for the last few hours of the drive.

:: V ::

Finally, the car slows down on the exit ramp into Knox. The sun is slowly rising over the horizon, the sky drenched in a bright cloudless blue; however, the shadows still envelope the cityscape. Knox is an interesting town. There aren’t very many buildings taller than two hundred feet, and even then, few are currently occupied. The tallest structure on the skyline is the Clocktower in the center of the city. It hangs over the square, its massive clock face signaling the present time clearly.

Mom softly snores from her reclined seat. Dad lightly hums and taps on the steering wheel to the tune of a song on the radio as the car slows to a halt in front of a red light. The city seems populated, despite its size. Even at this time, there are still many cars and people out and about.

“We’re staying near the outside of town, by the way,” Dad says as the light turns green.

“Why’s that?” I ask.

“Better view.” Makes sense, I suppose. The radio shifts to a different station as Dad messes with a dial, static empties out from the speakers before settling on a grainy Can’t Help Falling in Love. Elvis’ voice deeply breathes out the lyrics as Mom groans from the passenger seat.

“Ugh, what time is it?” She asks, rubbing at her face while raising the seat up.

“Around seven AM.” Mom lets out an uncharacteristic grunt. I huff out a small chuckle. “What’re you laughing at?”

“Nothing, nothing!” I say before erupting into a giggling fit. She sighs comically, playing along with my little joke. Her face breaks out in a strained smile.

“Hmm? What is it?”

She doesn’t answer my question, and instead turns in her chair, the grin still plastered on her face. This conversation is over, anyone can see. We both made a few jokes and time moved on. However, my thoughts are still stuck, thinking about Mom. Why was her smile so forced? I rake through my mind to see if I can recall why she would force it. I may not talk to her often, especially during the school week, but…

I’m going to watch her closely this week. I’ll get to the bottom of it, one way or another.

I patiently wait for about ten minutes, scrolling through an ebook on my phone until Dad slowly pulls into a driveway. The place we’re renting is farther out of the city than near the outside. Shutting off the car, he pops open the trunk and slides out of his seat. Mom and I follow suit. Grabbing a bag randomly, I haul it after Dad as he unlocks the front door of the villa.

“How’d you get the key?” I ask as I enter the building.

“Email said it was in the mailbox,” Dad says as he puts down a suitcase at a stairwell next to the entrance.

“Were they not scared of it being stolen?” He shrugs. Great, thanks for the answer.

I flip on the several switches on the wall. Light floods down from the ceiling, breathing life into the colors.

“Samui…” Mom grumbles in Japanese through her chattering teeth. She’s right, it is cold out here. At least it's warmer inside. I think.

Stalking forward, she sets her computer bag down on a nearby sofa and lets out a sigh. “Finally, no longer in that damned car.”

I snort to myself as I step further inside and explore the villa. Down the hall to the left from the entrance is a washroom first, then an adjacent bathroom, and further down is a garage, with a couple of racks on the walls, a variety of tools hanging on them. Opposite that, is a small office space, but the only thing in there was a simple desk and chair.

Going right from the front door, the living room and dining room connect through an open wall. Next to the dining room is a kitchen with a small island placed squarely in the center of the appliances. Under a wide countertop overhang stand two neatly placed stools, asymmetrical in design, one with a short backrest, the other without. Up the stairs next to the entrance, lies a carpeted hallway, with a small bedroom on the left. Across it was a bathroom. Down the hall leads to the master bedroom.

I figure that the smaller bedroom will be mine for the break, so I set my bag down on the small desk within. After a few minutes of relaxing, the spattering of water on the window breaks me out of my stupor.

“Oh, great.” I mutter to myself. Now that I get the chance to breathe, I start thinking about Evelyn. I’m not sure where she went. I don’t think she actually got in the car, but if she did, not in the main cab.

A low rumbling echoes from outside. Was there supposed to be a storm tonight? Shaking off the thought, I find my way downstairs. Mom is sitting on the couch, typing something into her laptop with the news on in the background.

“Work?” I ask lightly. She exasperatedly sighs.

“Yeah, bossman texted me about a past project.”

“Ouch.” She echoes the sentiment lightly with frustration.

Dad walks in from the front door space, dropping his slightly wet boots onto a drying rack sat against the wall. “Car’s all unpacked.”

Mom distantly nods, focusing on typing whatever it is her boss needs.

“What’re we doing this week?” I ask Dad as he collapses onto a couch underneath a window with a sigh.

“Nothing today.”

I chortle lightly.

“Tomorrow we’re sightseeing around town until around seven.”

“What’s at seven?”

“The eclipse will start, and we’ll be viewing it from the square in front of the clocktower.” I nod. Mom shuffles around in her seat before quietly shutting the lid of her laptop and stuffing it back into its bag.

I stand up, stretching out my limbs before going back upstairs, ignoring the stare from Mom. Closing the door behind me, I collapse onto the bed. Who knew sitting in the car sleeping was so tiring? I think as I drift off again.

::VI ::

The next day, all three of us are hanging out on a park bench around noon. Dad lightly leans into my shoulder. “This place seem interesting yet?”

I nod with a slight smile. His grin widens and Dad puts an arm around me and holds tightly.

“What’s with all the physical affection?” I ask.

“Am I not allowed to give love to my family?” He challenges me.

“Are you sure you’re giving love to all of your family?” I say with a smirk.

But I can see it in his eyes, he predicted that I’d say that. Dad reaches around Mom, and as she yelps, pulls her close too. Abort! Abort! Bad idea, this was a very bad idea!

I desperately try to pull away, but the bear’s grip is too tight. White envelopes my vision as hairs poke around my eyes. I can’t tell if it’s Mom’s or mine. Dad’s chest bounces up and down as he laughs boisterously.

After what feels like several minutes, he lets go and I push away. I cough lightly, trying to put on a show. Mom however, glares at him before pulling Dad off the bench and wrestles with him in the grass as Dad continues to roar as she hurls indiscriminate swears at him.

With the amount of noise the two were making, I’m surprised that nobody has come over to ask us to be quiet.

Eventually, Mom finishes her rant and pushes him into the grass one last time before sitting back down on the bench. Dad is still laying on the ground, panting out heavy breaths laced with laughter.

“Do that again and I’ll beat you to the ground.” Mom says aggressively while Dad pulls himself up from the wet grass.

I let a small smile form. Dad did exactly what I wanted him to. Mom’s thoughts were now off of work, even if it’s for a short amount of time. A small victory.

Eventually Mom’s colorful words taper off into quiet mutterings. As Dad falls back onto the bench, a serene feeling settles in my chest. Today will be a good day, I think.

A couple of hours later, the sun glares down through the small gaps in the clouds as Mom and I explore the downtown area of Knox. The roads are wet, but the rain has stopped for a short time, and she decides we should spend some time together before we meet back up with Dad tonight to watch the eclipse.

Mom stops short, peering into the window of a store as I handle the bags of things she buys. A small sign that reads out the store name hangs down over the door. A used book store, not something I’d have thought interested Mom.

“Wanna go in?” I ask her. She distantly nods, gaze still transfixed on something within the store.

As I open the door for her, a bell rings, bringing the attention of the cashier sitting inside the ‘L’ shaped counter. As we pass by him, I say a small ‘hi,’ but Mom keeps walking to a shelf near the window before pulling an old gray leather bound book from its place. The front cover is decorated in an odd symbol; a straight line, with the short line of an ‘L’ connecting to the top, the longer crossing the middle of the line before abruptly stopping after a few inches. The other side was mirrored.

“Find something good?” I ask, but my question went unheard as Mom leafs through the pages.

“Mom?” Her face is pale in the warm orange light from the lantern hanging from the ceiling. Her hand lightly tremors against the light cover. I reach out to touch her shoulder, but before I make contact, she pulls away, swiftly shutting the book and setting it down on the counter for the cashier to ring up. Must’ve been an interesting story? I can’t help but feel like I’ve seen that symbol before.

The cashier types a few things onto his keyboard before reading out the total. Mom hands over a twenty, and the cashier collects the change from the register. Her complexion remains pale as she stuffs the change into her wallet and walks out the store.

Hurrying after her, I say a small thanks before the door closes all the way.

Mom walks fast, and before I know it, we’ve reached the square in front of the clocktower.

“Mom?” I pant out. “What was that?”

She turns around with a slight smile on her face, and an unsettling feeling settles in my chest.

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it.” That’s bullshit, is what I want to say, but I remain quiet. I know to stay silent on matters like these. Whatever is causing her freakout will pass, it always does. My lips melt into a frown, but I decide not to press the matter. If Mom needs help, I’m sure she’ll say something.

I heave out a sigh, but regardless, ask what she wants to do.

“Well, we have about an hour and a half before the eclipse, so I was thinking we could get something to eat around here before meeting your dad at the clocktower.”

My eyes widen slightly. Was it already that late? Pulling out my phone, I check the time just to make sure. 5:33 glows back at me. Oh. We were out shopping a lot more than I thought. I agree, and we find a small deli to eat at. It was nothing special, just a small place that sold breakfast and lunch at all hours. Mom orders a simple sandwich. I don’t get anything, I’m not hungry.

Slowly, the golden glow from the sun fades to a pale blue as the clouds clear from the sky. Half an hour later, Mom trashes the paper wrap and we meet up with Dad in the square.

I spot him before he sees us. Sitting at a bench underneath a tree, he’s staring at something on his phone with a frown, but he shakes it off when he looks up and sets his sight on us.

“Hey!” He shouts at us as he shoves his phone into his pocket and grins. Mom and I join him on the bench.

“What’re you smiling about?” Mom’s voice grates out, and my body freezes as I turn to face her. Mom has a glowering look. My lips quiver, but I remain strong in the face of imminent death. But as destiny would have it, my life would be spared as she deflates into a small smile, and I release a sigh of relief.

Dad makes a comment, and Mom immediately grounds out an insult. I cringe, but a worthwhile sacrifice. Tonight is going great, I think to myself.

Eventually Mom calms down as the time slowly ticks towards seven o’clock. The pale white Moon reflects the sun’s radiance while the sky fades into a dark purple.

:: VII ::

Only fifteen minutes remain until the eclipse.

“Hey Bell,” Dad says, and I shuffle my head to acknowledge him, while keeping my eyes on the clock face, “You know I love you, right?”

I make an affirmative hum. “Yeah. What’s this about?”

“I… I’m not sure. I know I can be hard on you, but…” he takes a deep breath, “I just want you to know that I love you, okay?”

“I—” My response is cut off by the loud sounds of a bell ringing. Excitement boils over in my chest as what I say is cloaked over by the loud ringing as clock hands slowly align themselves to seven and twelve. Another loud ring chimes out when a blurry flake of white floats down in front of my eyes.

What the… is my only thought before I notice the small storm of snow dropping from the sky. I can hear Mom’s breath hitch and Dad’s quiet “wow,” but I’m too focused on the snowflakes to shift my attention. Reaching out a finger, I make contact with the flake, and it quickly melts back into the water drop.

Wind tears through the courtyard as the Moon collapses into red. A hand grabs at my shoulder, but I’m so captivated by the sky I can’t bear to face them.

The sky is… beautiful. The clouds loudly swirl and shift around, constantly keeping a radius around the Moon blank.

A shifting of tiles brings my focus to the origin of the sound. A monster crawls over the roof of a broken shop, its arms and head twitch back and forth, a clicking echoes out from its mouth before it suddenly lunges at us. My heart freezes. Evelyn was one thing, but this…

Before I can do anything, a massive weight pushes into me, throwing my body into the cold ground, the crunch of snow overpowered by the sounds of snapping bone. My head pivots on autopilot towards the sound as time seems to freeze. Dad’s form lets out a low grunt of pain before the beast takes another lunge. A hand tugs me away before I can see the razor sharp claw coming down, but the brutal sound flesh and muscle tear sends tears down my eyes. I scramble to my feet as Mom pulls me along and away from the remains of my father.

“Come on, we need to go!” Panic and fear floods through her quaking voice. The scraping of claws against stone spurs my legs into action, sprinting to close the distance Mom had created between us.

A right, left, left, and right turn later, Mom eventually slows down at the sight of a dead end created by a collapsed building, allowing me to collapse against a cracked wall.

“W-what was that!?” I ask, the adrenaline fades in my body, its rush replaced by panic. Tears rip down my cheeks.

“Bell, I need you to listen to me.” Her tone demands my gaze. She kneels down, her eyes on my level. “Run towards the bookstore we were at earlier, as fast as you can. I tried to get as close as possible, but it's still multiple blocks away.”

“I don’t understand…” Her eyes soften as she takes her bag off of her shoulder. Mom buries her hand into the main pocket, and pulls out a small black case and sets it aside, before reclipping the carrier on my back. “Wait! What about dad?”

Her hand cups my cheek and wipes away a tear. Or a drop of sweat, I’m not sure which. “I’m sorry, Bell… I’m so sorry.”

She presses her forehead against mine before pulling away, grabbing the case along the way. Undoing the lock, Mom faces away from me as she takes out whatever item is in it, but as a click echoes out, I think I have a pretty good guess of what it is. Mom shoves it into her pocket before tossing the case aside, its contents emptied.

“Remember Bell, the bookstore. Please, go there.” She takes a few steps away before sighing. “I’m sorry that you have to experience this. Your father and I… we were trying to keep you away from it, but it seems fate has a different idea,” she spits out the word ‘fate’ as if it were the most disgusting thing she could imagine, “I’ll meet you at the store, I promise.”

I nod dumbly, and she speeds away in the direction we came from.

Silence fills the void left by Mom’s footfalls. There’s only one thought on my mind.

“I didn’t even get to say goodbye…”

so that's all from me today, folks. Please let me know if you enjoyed.

“Ravens are the birds I'll miss most when I die. If only the darkness into which we must look were composed of the black light of their limber intelligence. If only we did not have to die at all. Instead, become ravens.” ― Louise Erdrich, "The Painted Drum"

#writing #creative writing #shits happening #part2 #to be continued

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iraven-underscore · 2 years ago

Text

Sol - S: Act I; Part I

SoL - S

AcT I PaRT I

"He saw all these forms and faces in a thousand relationships… become newly born. Each one was mortal, a passionate, painful example of all that is transitory. Yet none of them died, they only changed, were always reborn, continually had a new face: only time stood between one face and another."

—Herman Hesse, Nobel Laureate

:: I ::

My chest shudders as I let out a shaky breath. I’m lying on the snowy, cold, wet ground of the dimly lit alley way, a warm liquid seeping out of a cavity in my chest. The essence of life spills forth from me, as a dark and damp cold fills my veins. I can barely lift my head, but can see the sharp set of bones piercing forth from my ribcage. Streaks of blood stick to my white hair. Blotches of color are fading from my vision as I bleed out. Slowly, my mind comes to the realization that I am dying. I’m dying and there's nothing I can do about it. I’m dying I’m dying I’m dying—

The sounds of the great Clocktower erupt into my brain, the constant ringing in tune with my heartbeat. My thoughts begin to quicken their pace as my blood drains faster and faster. The color drains The orange and white of the brick and mortar. The reflective gray had left a few moments ago. Yellow-orange light floods down from a street lamp, but slowly that color is leaving too. The only thing I can still see is red. That sickly sweet red. That brilliant red. That bloody red. I’m dying I’m dying I’m dying—

The smell of copper and iron has already filled my nostrils and lungs. The liquid of life is still draining out of me. My heart thumps in my ears. My left hand is draped over my chest, in what seems to be a futile attempt at stopping the bleeding. I don’t remember moving it. I’m dying I’m dying I’m dying—

I can’t focus on anything anymore. Not even the growing void in my chest. Before I can do anything more, a tendril of darkness shoots down from the sky, sharply connecting into my chest. It's long enough that I can’t see the end before it blends with the subtle cracks in the dimly lit purple sky.

Suddenly, three more sprout from the central tendril, covering my view, barring me from even seeing the surrounding alleyway. Tears perk from the corners of my eyes, smearing anything that I could still see. A smudged explosion of color erupts and before I can do anything—

“Hey, hey!” My vision fills with the blurry face of my art teacher, Mister Carter, “Hey, Bell, you alright?”

“What?” is all I manage to groan out. I can’t focus on his face, there is something warm and sticky on my left hand.

“You suddenly collapsed, gave me and half the class quite the scare.” He huffs out a light chuckle, trying to lighten the mood. My eyes can finally focus. I can see behind him at the rest of the class, all of them staring at me. Only a few look worried at all. I don’t think most of them even get surprised when it happens anymore.

“Huh? Oh, yes, I-I’m fine. Perfectly fine,” I try to steady my breathing and try to hide the red on my hand, “See? Better already.”

He looks at me with disapproving gray-blue eyes, but he knows better than to say more. I get bullied enough for it as is; I don’t need him to pity me. He sighs and pushes himself to his feet from his kneeling position. He gives me one more look, as if saying ‘mention this to your therapist’ or something along those lines.

Mister Carter is probably one of, if not the best teacher at this god forsaken school. He’s definitely one of the only teachers that actually cares about the students. I think most of his gray hairs are from them. During my eighth grade year he recommended me to my current therapist after my last one ran off on me. He also is the only one who seems to show any concern at all for me when this happens. That’s why I’ve taken this elective almost six years in a row. I took it in sixth grade and have stayed since. The private school is a sixth to twelfth grade school, combining a standard middle school and high school. The first floor being sixth to eighth grade classes, and the second being ninth to twelfth grade classes. Usually, high schoolers aren’t allowed to take middle school electives, but the headmaster had allowed an exception for me, mainly because my parents had placed a large ‘donation.’

The rest of the class is talking among themselves. Most of them are courteous enough to whisper, but there are, of course, others that are practically shouting about me. Laughing at me.

I think I heard something relating to schizophrenia in the chorus of students, and I suppose that it isn’t very far from the truth. The doctor says it's most likely a stress induced hallucination, and that people get them all the time. Well I’ve been the only one ever that I’ve heard of, I think bitterly, swearing at that doctor mentally. My therapist always ignores me whenever I bring up that they started when I was seven.

I try to ignore it as I frantically wipe the warm liquid off my hand onto my uniform’s white undershirt, fix my glasses, and return to my seat.

Mister Carter returns to the lesson and the class quiets down as I start to write down in my journal, something my therapist requested I do whenever the hallucinations occur. I detail everything on the pages. From the location, down to what I was feeling. Frantic, I’m dying, I’m dying I’m dying, I’m dyin— I shake my head, purging such thoughts and emotions.

The bell rings, and I vacate my seat immediately as I high-tail it out of the classroom, clutching my books close to my chest in the inevitability that I bump into someone.

I don’t hear it, but I can smell the shift in the air. Any buzzing from the halls is suddenly gone as the scent of sickly sweet copper and iron fills me. I’m standing in the middle of the dimly lit hallway. The walls are draped in the red essence of life. The colors of yellow and orange burst through the broken glass windows on the second floor of the building. My stomach fills with dread and fear. The sound of my heart returns to my ears with a vengeance, overpowering anything else. I stand still, waiting for it to be over, but it never ends. A minute has passed, according to my wrist watch.

I wait and wait, yet it hasn’t stopped. I take a very cautious step forward. It’s all in your head, it’s all in your head, there’s nothing there, there’s nothing there. It’s all in your head. I take a few more steps. I’ve yet to crash into anyone yet, but that hasn’t stopped me from being careful. I travel through the middle school’s five hundred and six hundred hallways with relative ease.

By now, three minutes have passed, and there’s still no sign of the hallucination ending. The blood still permeates throughout the hallways. I spare a quick glance at the wall. It looks like the blood was placed in strokes, almost as if it were painted on. There’s still what looks to be massive drops of the liquid dried at the base of the strokes.

I reach the high school’s two hundred hallway after climbing the stairs near the middle school’s two hundred hallway. Without warning, something collides with my shin and I trip over and smash my nose on the concrete floor, my glasses flying off my face in the process. Something warm is dribbling down from my nose. For a split second I can still see the blood drenched hallway, before my vision gets blurry from the tears that begin to form in my eyes.

I hear laughing. The smell of copper is only gone from one of my nostrils.

Freak, I hear again. It’s the same thing over and over and over.

There is no blood on the walls, and students fill the space. Nobody owns up to tripping me, and I didn’t expect anyone to. Although it’s against the rules, the teachers allow bullying in the hallways because there are so many people in one place. I scramble around on the ground in search of my glasses. Finding them, I frantically slide them onto my face.

My phone buzzes in my pocket, breaking me from my stupor. I scurry to my feet and go sit down in the back corner desk. After settling down, I pull out my phone to check the notification. It was a text message from my mother.

Fri, Dec 16 at 2:23 PM

Hey Bell, make sure you come to

the front of the school today!

I’m trying to wrack my mind to remember why she’s texting me this. Oh, right, it’s Friday. Today’s the last day before winter break.

I send back a quick reply before stashing my phone away in my pocket again. All I have to do is survive this period without an episode, and I'll be homebound and free. I rub my nose. There is a warm liquid running down still. I grab a tissue out of my bag and wipe it off. By now the blood has already clotted, and the bleeding has stopped. I feel a little woozy, but otherwise I’m fine.

“Hey Bell,” my one and only friend slides over from a few desks in front of me after I toss the bloody tissue.

“Hi Grey, what’d you need?” I ask. Grey is definitely extroverted. Athletic, lean, and popular, he probably talked to me as a dare. As the quarterback of the school Football team, there simply is no other way for him to be friends with me. I’m unsure as to why he stuck around though. Somedays I hope it isn’t because the dare was ‘be friends with the outcast’ or something like that. I hope he stays. It’s nice to talk to people, even if they’re here out of obligation.

“You’re a little pale,” he says. I roll my eyes.

“When am I not pale? I’m an albino, remember?” I answer very aggressively. More so than I meant.

“Hey, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything by it,” he looks a little guilty. Now I feel sick with myself, “I meant more than usual.”

“Sorry, sorry. I didn’t intend to snap at you, I’m sorry. I’m just… a little aggravated right now.” I desperately try to apologize for my mistake. He gives me a smile.

“Nah, it’s fine,” it drops quickly. “Let me guess, the usual?”

He refers to the mocking and name calling. I sigh and nod.

“Yeah, it’s nothing though, I’m fine.” I’m lying through my teeth. He looks like he doesn’t believe me.

“Bell, remember you can talk to me,” he’s completely serious. It seems like he didn’t fall for the lie. Great.

“I’m sure, Gray.” He still looks skeptical. “Look, I’ll come to you if I need to, is that enough?”

“Fine, but if I hear something happen and you don’t come to me, there’ll be hell to pay.” A promise. Something that I don’t want to break. He pulls at his tie.

“Still getting choked by that?” I tease him, eager for the opportunity to change the subject.

“Yeah… it’s… super annoying!” He finally gets it loosened, but it slides down from his neck, untied. “Dammit.”

I stifle a laugh into one hand as I prop my head up on the other.

“You can help me, can’t you? I’d rather not get in trouble, you know how strict the school is about ties!” I snicker.

“I could, but it’s funnier to watch you panic.” I let a smug smile through my lips.

“Please, I’ll do anything!” He and I both know he doesn’t have the time to fix it, with only a few more minutes left in the passing. Gray has to get up even earlier than I do because he is horrible at tying ties.

“Anything…?” He nods vigorously. “Hm. For now, we’ll call it a favor, but we’ll see about something else later.”

“I’m going to regret that, aren’t I?” He cringes.

“Who knows, most likely though.”

I lean over to him and start fixing his mistake. Around, over, through, up. I leave the top a little loose, just in case he wants to mess with that himself. His face has a suffusion of red. “Uh, you okay there, Gray?”

“Y-yeah. Sorry it’s just a little embarrassing to have someone else fix your tie.” I give him a confused look.

“Okay then…” He shakes his head.

“A-anyways, wanna hang out after school with a couple of friends of mine?” Probably doing something illegal was left unsaid. It’s usually what he means when he specifies ‘with friends.’ The joyous feeling I had left. He tries to include me in these sorts of things a lot. While it feels nice, it’s one of those things that I don’t like. Especially after I said yes the first time. While the feeling of carefreeness was good, the loss of control and proper thought scares me too much. Especially when the hallucinations have been happening more frequently. I shake my head.

“No, sorry. I have something going on with my parents after school.” He nods and releases a grunt of an affirmation. “Oh, by the way, I won’t be at my dorm for winter break.”

“Okay,” he nods again. “Hey Bell?”

“Hm? What’s up?” I ask. Gray asking a question? He sounds nervous. Something isn’t right. “What’s wrong?”

“What do you think of Althea?” Of course it’s about a girl. I should have guessed.

“Who?” He nods his head over to a girl sitting in the opposite corner as us. She’s surrounded by a lot of others, too. She seems like the equivalent of Gray but female. Athletic and popular. Probably plays a few sports as captain. Her silky brown hair is tied up in a ponytail, and with minimal makeup on her round face it's easy to see why she’d be so popular. It’s the same with Gray. He makes it look effortless to be as handsome as he is, but I’ve seen more than the average student. I’ve seen the inside of his dorm, and all the products he uses. All the trouble he gets into. Both Gray and Althea are most likely part of the same group. Very good illusionists. They treat school like a movie or play, and the football player Gray and the popular girl Althea are just roles they have to play.

Gray rolls his seat back over to his desk as Mister Thompson, a bald, short, and stout old man, opens the door and enters the classroom.

“Good afternoon class, welcome back to Physics….” I’ve already tuned Mister Thompson out and returned to my thoughts. Why is Gray interested in this Althea? I wonder to myself. Maybe I’ll text him later.

Physics passed, and I was able to finish off the day. Leaving the room, I fall in line to the natural pace that the students have already formed. Down the stairs, through several halls, and through the big double doors. I pass by other students, all meeting up with their friend groups. I spare a glance at one or two, but pay no mind to most, I was too focused on not tripping or slamming into anyone, something I’ve done too many times before.

Opening one of the doors, I take in a quick breath of air. It’s crisp and cool on the back of my throat and lungs. I peek out at the parking lot, searching for my family’s car. Finding it further down the bend of cars for the pick-up zone, I speed over, sliding through a white 1977 Dodge Challenger and an black SUV in the pick-up line, when a strap from my backpack gets caught on the front driver side mirror, making me trip over.

From the ground, the smell of copper, iron, and rotten flesh fill my senses. My breath hitches. My heartrate ramps up fast. The only thing affected by the hallucination is the car. My eyes widen slightly. Bile pulls itself up my throat. The driver’s body is rotting. Bits and pieces of his internal organs are exposed. It looks like a chunk of his brain is missing, as if someone took a massive bite out of his frontal lobe. I can smell the rotten flesh. Not even the car could be saved. Blood and gore coat the inside. Particles of dried blood are encrusted on the leather steering wheel. It’s so revolting I can barely look at it, but it's obvious the driver sees none of this.

“You alright there, boy?” the driver asks innocently in a thick southern accent. . The skin over his nose is missing, showing the bone. He jabs a bloody, bony finger into my face, “yer a little pale there.”

“N-no I’m fine, sir,” I squeak out. He looks at me with great skepticism.

“Are ya’ sure, boy?” he asks again. I frantically nod, and scramble to my feet.

“Y-yes sir! I’m perfectly fine!” Dusting off my knees, I do a few light jumps to prove my point.

“Well, okay, boy.” His skin begins to degrade faster and faster, until nothing but bone remains. “I s’pose I’ll just f—”

“Who’re you talking to, Bell?” My father in his truck comes around the bend.

“What? I’m talking to the—” the Dodge was gone. Looking down the stretch of road, I can’t even spot the car. “What the hell…?”

My father raises his eyebrow. I hadn’t noticed it, but the smell of flesh and blood has since disappeared.

“Is everything fine up there?” he asks me sarcastically as he sweeps his hand through his medium length brown hair.

“Never has been.” I answer with a snappy mood. Walking to the passenger side, I open the car door, slide my bag in the leg space, and step inside.

“Hey, kiddo, relax,” he tries to calm me, but I’m already aggravated.

Letting out a sigh, I look out the window as Dad pulls out of the parking lot.

“I think we need to move schools again,” I mumble.

“Hm? What’d you say?” he asks without taking his eyes away from the road.

“I think we need to move schools,” I say barely louder, but it’s enough for him to hear.

“Are you serious?” I nod. “Kiddo, that didn’t help seven years ago, why would it now? And don’t you have that one friend? What was his name… Grey? What about him?”

A spike of guilt impales my chest. I was only thinking about myself again.

“Look, Bell. Maybe you just need a small change of scenery. You know, get out a little.” I shoot an incredulous look at him. “Don’t look at me like that, didn’t you say the trip we took last summer helped?”

I sink a little in my seat. He was completely correct, I did say that, and it did help, if only a tiny amount. He releases an exasperated sigh.

“Listen, tell you what. Why don’t we take a vacation, a small break. Just the three of us, no work, no school.” The three of us. Mom would be coming too. When was the last time Mom came on one of these trips with us? I can’t remember, at least five years, now. I raise my eyebrow, I almost don’t want to answer in case he rescinds his offer. Almost.

“Can Mom get away from work long enough for that?” I ask.

“Yup! She sent in her vacation request a few weeks ago for this reason,” he looks at me for a moment with a soft smile and a light chuckle before returning his gaze to the road. “We got eight days for as much fun as we want.”

“You planned this, didn’t you?” I accuse him. He gives another small laugh.

“You know it,” he’s sly. He knew how I would complain about the hallucinations. Regrettably, they are something that I bring up probably way more than I should. Dad could even tell that I was about to say something about them too. He murmurs something unintelligible.

“Hah? D’you say something, Dad?” I ask him curiously.

“Just talking to myself, it’s not important” he’s oddly defensive, but I decide not to press him. If he says it’s not important, then it isn’t.

The car is quiet. A few minutes pass before either of us talk again, and it’s only to mention something mundane. The town is blurring past us as Dad pulls onto the highway. ‘Now Leaving: Galliemourne’ the sign says in a colorful font.

Galliemourne, the name of the relatively small town my school was in, with a population of about seventy thousand, and only a few landmarks to its name, isn’t well known. It used to be a small mining town, during the gold rush. It’s size is about twenty square miles. The old mines from the nineteenth century have largely been abandoned, with one or two turned into a museum and tourist attraction.

The town only has a few more landmarks, one being the Clocktower. It was constructed to be towering over the rest of the city. The bell was also oversized so the workers in the mines could hear it from deep underground. I’m not sure if they could actually hear it though.

“Bell, you okay now?” I nod slightly.

“Yeah, I’m doing fine.” We’re stopped at a streetlight. I’m not sure when we got off the highway. He pats my shoulder with a well callused hand and a warm smile. “When are we leaving?”

“Tomorrow around eleven, we’re going up to that lodge we went to last time with your mom.” The light turns green. The truck pulls forward as Dad lets off the brake. I turn back to the window. The bouncing from the uneven road falls into a pattern as sleep slowly takes me.

:: II ::

“Hey, wake up, Bell.” Something is shaking my shoulder. Probably Dad, I think, remembering the drive home. I moan as I open my eyes and sit up. “You awake yet?”

“Mmm. Yeah, I’m up.” The truck has stopped in our garage. I must have fallen asleep for the last hour and a half ride. I yawn. My vision is blurry, my glasses must have slid down my face while I slept.

“Okay, c’mon, let's get you inside. Your mother’ll be home in a few hours. You can sleep more later.” He opens his door and slides out. I rub my eyes as the blurriness goes away. Pulling out my phone, I check the time. Five thirty-three. I put it away as I open my side as well and slip into the garage. I grab my bag before I close the door.

The truck is parked on the right side of the room. On the left is a partly taken apart seventy-six Mustang Cobra. Dad is what he calls a ‘connoisseur’ of older cars. He loves fixing them and working on them. He even owns and runs an autoshop out near Chico. I find it weird that he works. We’re well off from Mom’s high paying job as well as inheritance money from my maternal great grandfather. Whenever I ask Dad, he always says something about how “we shouldn’t rely on money like that,” and “what’ll your children say when we leave nothing for them?” I don’t really understand it.

I’ve picked up several things about cars and how to fix them from Dad too, in case something happens and I’m too far away from civilization. I suppose that's fair, Galliemourne is a mountain city on a technicality, so it’s very possible to lose service randomly or not have it at all.

Clearing my head of these thoughts, I push open the door into the house. This door leads into the kitchen. It’s empty right now, but has clear signs of use. A tiny pile of flour lies on the counter, with a couple other splotches of similar baking substances around.

Leaving the kitchen and dining room alone, I pass through a small archway that empties into the living room. Dad is sitting down on a chair after he grabbed something off the printer, given the new loose packet of paper he’s looking through. Probably something for work. “Hey Dad,” he looks up from the paper and smiles.

“Bell, what d’you need?”

“When is Mom gonna be here?” I ask.

“About three hours. Enough to take a nap?” he jabs at me.

“Ha. Ha. You are so funny.” But I’m smiling too. He returns his attention back to the packet, and I leave him alone. Wandering around the house I eventually come across my room. The place isn’t mansion size, but definitely larger than an average California home. Several times the size, in fact. I think it’s because it was commissioned by my great grandfather, back in the sixties. It’s certainly changed and evolved since then, though. The kitchen has been remodeled several times. So have all of the bathrooms. I’m sure even the foundation has changed too.

I slip into the bedroom. My bed still sits in the corner opposite of the door, with my desk underneath the large window. Flicking on the lights, I drop my bag next to the closet. My room, much like most of the other bedrooms in the house, has a personal bathroom. Why? I’m not honestly sure. My father and I have gone through my great grandfather’s journals several times now, and none of them mention why he wanted the house how it is. It's almost as if he had done that on purpose to mess with us. Old bastard.

Entering the bathroom, I look into the mirror. Staring back is me. My cheeks look sunken in and I’m paler than usual. Turning on the faucet, I wet my hands and wash off my face.

I look back in the mirror, my dull gray eyes reflecting back. My hot breath leaves fog on the glass. My usually wavy hair is matted near the ends. To put it simply—

“I look like shit,” I say to no one in particular. I’ll deal with my hair later, I decide for myself. After drying off my face, I return to the main room, sliding shut the door behind me.

I nearly instantly collapse on the bed, but I manage to hold myself back enough to at least take off my blazer and tie. As soon as I do, I hear a knock on the door. Groaning, I wheel around to face the annoyance.

“Yes?” I ask, exasperated, as I swing open the door. “What d’you need?”

There’s nobody there. Not even a stray animal that might have wandered in through an opened window. What the hell…?

I’m not tired anymore, I don’t feel like continuing to sleep. Closing the door, I wander over to the desk and whiteboard under the window. Peeking through the curtains, I look out the front yard. From this vantage point, one can spot the driveway, the side road that split from the highway, and the sprawling grasslands that spread for most of the next twenty acres. Snow has started to cover most of the fields. Wait…. Snow?

Something clicks in the back of my mind. I can’t keep my eyes open longer, I have to blink now. Doing so, as soon as my eyelids fully open, the snow has long since disappeared. The temperature hasn’t changed either.

“At least it wasn’t blood,” I say to myself. Shaking my head, I close the curtains.

Sitting down in the chair in front of the desk, I glance at the book left on the desk. It was one of my great grandfather’s. If I’m remembering correctly, this one was around the archaeology site in Galliemourne. My great grandfather, being an archaeologist, and based locally, almost immediately dropped everything to explore the site. He hadn’t been cleared to enter the place though, and had been stricken with a non disclosure agreement after people had found out he was there.

But he, a self proclaimed ‘master of loopholes,’ found that the contract had only specified he wasn’t allowed to share while alive. How do you manage to not only create such a hole, but find it? I’m not sure. But either way, he wrote down everything he could in these journals. About thirty total were written, all on various topics, but all pertaining to Galliemourne, its surrounding area, and its history. Six of which were dedicated to this find. He labeled them one through thirty. The one on my desk was twenty-four.

Now, was that legal, as he was alive when he wrote most of them? Most likely not. Did he do it anyway? Yes. Strangely, my mother really doesn’t care about the journals. She was working up the courage to burn all of them when I found them. I remember asking why, but her only response was something about “not wanting them to get out,” whatever that meant.

The site itself was discovered on May nineteenth, 1897, about half a mile south east of the north west mine. The government records of the find are classified, according to the journals, and any mentions of what the main find specifically were oddly wiped clean from his writings too. It’s almost as if he was literally unable to write about it. He always refers to it as ‘the find’ or the ‘the thing,’ never by its name. He describes it poorly too. When I first read this particular book, I suppose it was almost there and then I decided I’d figure out what it was that they found. Mom wouldn’t let me bring any of the journals to school though, so progress has been slow.

There were a few other finds with the unknown thing too. Scraps of ceramic, a couple of undated bones, and a fractured red stained glass ball. The site was never dated either. During one of the terms at school, I went searching around the area that was described as where the site was. The most I could find was that it was built over and that none of the finds were still located in Galliemourne.

The easel style whiteboard next to the desk had most of this taped on in pages of paper to save space. One side of the board was about journal twenty-three and twenty-three. Out of the six for the site, I was still on the third book. I started with these six about two years ago, and they are by far the strangest of them all.

When I first found them, I skimmed through most before doing a more in-depth research on each topic. So far, not including these six, I’ve gone through three, one on the mines, another on the people of Galliemourne, and the third on the legends and stories around the city and greater city area. Though, one specific legend had received two books dedicated to it. The legend was about the Galliemourne Clocktower mystery. I can’t remember the story, but it’s something about how whenever the bell chimes, mysterious people enter the tower. They never leave, and never talk to anyone. The current “theory” is that they are a part of a “shadow organization” who “keep the truth from getting out” or some other ridiculous thing that they try to peddle. It’s even more ridiculous that they speculate about it as the bell hasn’t rung in over a hundred years. Even still, somehow great grandfather managed to get two two hundred page long journals off of a bad two sentence horror story.

Now that I think about it— I’m quite amazed actually. Something like these journals, if they were written by anybody else, I think the author would fit it all into two, maybe three books, but instead the punctilious bastard wrote thirty books, so detailed, might I add, that he even measured and wrote where a few of the contusions of the glass ball were, and how big they had been. It had to have taken at least a decade and a half, if not longer to write even half of the journals.

I produce a small sticky note from a stack next to the book and place it on the page where it can be seen sticking out from the top. Closing the journal, I slide it into the shelf at the top of my desk with the other five.

It’s a small shelf at the top of the desk face. I lean back in my chair and heave out a sigh. I look over at the mirror that hangs next to the bathroom door. Once again, my frowning face stares back. I feel something, but I can’t place it. Nostalgia, perhaps? But what would I be nostalgic about? Rain patters against the window. Shaking my head, I stand up and enter the bathroom. Probably should take a shower now.

Stripping of my shirt, I hear a low growl from behind me. Wheeling around to face whatever is behind me, I whip out the single action automatic knife that lies on the counter top. The rain has ceased. A cold breeze blows through my room. Dread fills my chest. I slowly step into the main area of the bedroom. I can't hear anything, the lashes of wind are too powerful.

The window is broken, and there's a massive hole in the wall. The rain has switched into snow, with the white powdery substance covering the sprawling fields outside. My heart pumps in my ear. My glasses are fogging up from my hot breath. I clumsily hold the knife in front of me.

My breath hitches as another wisp of wind breaches my room. A crash—

A massive gray wolf-like beast breaks through the wall connected to the hallway, creating another hole. Wood splitters and spreads everywhere around the room. The beast spews a loud growl before it howls out at the snow. Something warm rolls down my cheek and onto my bare arm. The beast stands in front of me in a battle-ready position, with its face low down and hind legs fully extended. Another growl emanates from its great mouth, its lips drawn back in a snarl. It's loud, I can barely hear anything over the wind.

The beast jumps at me. I stumble over my feet as I try to dodge to the side, and fall to the ground. It yelps as it slides on the ground, crashing into the already shattered mirror. It roars as it rights itself and gives another leap at me with an open jaw, its fangs slightly showing through its lips. I duck and dive under the beast’s hind legs. It quickly turns and sprints at me. I fall to my knees like it’s second nature, with the knife pointed forward, my arms fully extended.

It tries to slow itself, but it’s too late to course correct. It crashes into me, inadvertently plunging the knife into its chest, blood spraying everywhere. A dark red coats my glasses. My face is warm.

I scramble to pull the knife out from the beast. It screams out in pain as I create distance between us. Anger seems to fill its glowing icy blue eyes that appear to let out a trail of blue wisps of light when it moves. Something fills my chest. A sense of confidence. What… is this? I feel as though I can take on a hundred of these things. I rotate the knife in my hand, holding it loosely out in front of me. This time there’s no shaking. I tense my legs, ready to leap to the side when in need of dodging. My brain is no longer in control, letting what feels like muscle memory take over. It lunges at me. I lash out with a kick, catching it in the mandible with my right heel before I dodge to the side, landing on my haunches, left leg stretched out the the side, my right knee on the ground and my off-hand splayed out in front of me for balance. My chest bursts with excitement. An adrenaline high fills me, and I feel almost giddy at the thought of it bleeding. What the hell is happening to me?!

I instinctively put the knife handle in between my teeth as the beast reaches for another lunge. I leap to the right now, this time incorporating a dive roll into it. I land low on my heels. Quickly bursting up, I tense my legs. Not letting the beast’s over extension go unpunished, I drop the knife into my right hand and bound forward from my forefoot, dagger poised to strike at its heart. The Lycaon— how do I know that?! —manages to slide out of the way before the blade pierces its skin. Letting out a visceral and beast-like growl, I angrily lunge at the Lycaon, knife in a reverse grip, arm held across my chest, ready to slash at it. It snaps its jaw open, catching my forearm in its maw. It tries to separate my forearm at the elbow, but is unable to close it all the way, I must have dislocated its jaw with the earlier kick. Good.

The blade is an inch from piercing its chest. I push it closer with my off hand before completely leaning on it with my body, putting all of my weight into the dagger.

Closer… closer… Come on…! The excitement in my chest is high enough to make me burst. I mistook the confidence for something else, it seems. Something much more animal-like.

The sharp tip of the blade finally reaches the fur coat of the Lycaon. It lets out a small cry before releasing my forearm. Putting its head down onto the glass covered floor, something flashes in its icy blue eyes.

The knife falters. My chest is telling me to finish it off, yet I don't. My brain retakes control as the blood stained blade clatters onto the ground.

“What am I doing…?” I ask myself. Hate begins to fill me, but not for the Lycaon. I stare at my blood covered hand with spite. What the hell just happened to me? I take a long look at the beast. Its head still lies on the ground as if it has already accepted that it's going to die. I clench my fist and gnash my teeth together.

I step around the Lycaon and into the bathroom. Opening up one of the drawers, I pull out a first aid kit, and quickly head back to the main area.

“Hey, I'm going to help you, but I have to disinfect the wound first.” I say while kneeling down. It shoots a look at me, one that says ‘I'm going to kill you if you try.’ Steeling my nerves, I start to clean its cuts and lacerations. It tries to snap at me, but could barely lift its head. The beast occasionally lets out a whimper when I touch its wounds.

Once I'm done with disinfecting, I start to wrap the plentiful amount of bandages around its chest and side. The blade was only about two inches, so it most likely didn’t pierce anything important.

“Y-you should be good now,” I hope. It’s hard to tell when I've never studied anything about patching canine wounds. In my down time after homework I used to read the occasional medical book, specifically about how to identify and deal with most injuries, though they never covered anything about canines, or any other non-human animal for that matter. I lean back onto my haunches.

“What to do with you?” I ask myself. It seems to not be able to move, yet I can't leave it here. If I do that I might as well have not even—

“Kill it.” A gruff and grating voice said from behind me. My throat hitches. Grabbing the knife, I quickly stand up and face the stranger behind me. The man is oddly garbed in Victorian styled clothing, as if he was pulled straight from that time to the present. He clicks his tongue.

“Like you can do anything with that, Kid.” I make sure to maintain my distance from the stranger while keeping myself in between him and the beast. “Move aside, Kid, yer not going to save it.”

“No.” I’m not sure where this confidence came from, but I’m glad it’s here. I clench the knife in my grip hard enough to turn my knuckles white. I don’t know who this guy thinks he is, but I won’t just let him ruin the progress that I had made.

The man takes a step forward. “Move aside. I’m not going to ask again.”

Before I can do anything, the Lycaon growls from behind me.

“Tch.” His hand slithers towards the sword at his hip. “Don’t blame me for what happens next, kid.”

Before I can blink his blade is fully drawn, letting out a beautiful whistle, its slightly serrated edge only pressing into my neck.

“Move, Red-Eyes.” His tone leaves no room for argument. I don’t move. I don’t waver. I will not relent. I don’t even think about crying while staring him down.

Before he can do anything more a loud—

—BONG—

Distantly, the sounds of a Clocktower rings.

—BONG—

“Shit.” he swears, “Guess you get to live a little longer, damned beast.”

The bell rings again. He retracts his sword from my throat and flees out of the open hole in the wall. I race over to the hole, watching the man run in the direction of Galliemourne. The full pale red moon hangs down, slightly lighting the sky, the deep purple giving a small contrast to the inky black cracks that fill the air.

What the fuck, I think as I blink, the world exploding in color as darkness fills my mind.

#writing #reading #fiction

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