#Writing Fantasy Romance Horror Chapter3

[theinsouciantscribbler]

Not Another Vampire Romance: Chapter 3: “Wool Gathering is not about shaving Sheep.”

I felt my mood shift as I walked into his apartment complex, my mind a hundred miles away. I couldn’t stop the thoughts of my parents popping into focus in between each step I took down the dark navy hall, or the rise of a bulging pain in my throat; a throng of remembered ache that still tortured my heart each time something reminded me of them.

Even the smallest of things, like the smell of oatmeal, reminded me of my father. He would eat it everyday for breakfast with his cup of coffee before he went off to work. The sweet scent of Lillies reminded me of my mothers perfume. Sometimes, when I would walk through a department store, even the slightest whiff of a similar perfume could throw my mind into a series of flashes of her smile and cheerful voice. It would wreck every last piece of brick I had built up from the time before, the pain still new and fresh even after six years. 

However, the worst of it was not that they were gone too soon, or that I didn’t get to say ‘I love you’ one last time. I knew they loved me, and they knew I loved them. I knew that their time had come, even if it was a bitter way to go. The worst was the day to day things, the small and seemingly insignificant things that made it painful. I couldn’t call my mom to tell her about my day, or ask her about hers. I couldn’t talk to my dad and ask his advice about the multitude of things he seemed to know about; what direction I should take for school, or what he thought about my latest piece of art whether it be of music or painting. I didn’t have that anymore, I couldn’t go home and know that I could find my mom in the kitchen cooking dinner for my dad when he came home from work, or find my dad working on the various projects he busied himself with on the weekend.

The worst was when I had lost everything I had tried to rebuild, the family I had fought for against every odd and it still wasn’t enough. That even after everything, I was back to where I started; alone and broken.

“Are you okay?” Grey’s words finally ripped me out of the spiral I was drowning in.

I jerked my head up and looked at him. 

“Yeah, of course.” I lied. “Why?”

“You’re crying.” We had stopped right outside of his door, the number ’39’ in a tarnished bronze hanging crooked. His hand on the door knob and another reaching for my cheek. I was hesitant to let him close, finding any courage I had long gone.

Lightening fast, his hand cupped my chin, sending a tremor to surge down my spine while his thumb wiped away a tear. His skin was a bit rough, but it was real and somehow felt safe; it gave comfort when everything else caused unrest and anguish. I felt myself drawn in to his eyes that made me wild the first time I had seen them, found those brick walls tumbling from his smokey voice. When the first wall collapsed it startled me back to reality.

‘Don’t get attached.’ I warned, ‘You’ll loose everything that you love. Every time.’

I backed away from his warm, soothing hold. Even if he had just been holding my chin, my entire body felt cold now.

“I should go.” I decided, knowing that this dream would have to end eventually, so it ought to end now.

“Okay.” He seemed unaffected by my choice, which made the ache worse somehow.

“Thank you, for saving me.” I thanked, my eyes scanning his face like a piece of art. Admittedly, I was committing him to memory, every nook and cranny; every shape unique and beautiful.  

“As requested, don’t mention it, if you would.” He asked again, and I couldn’t do more than nod an agreement. 

I backed away slowly, wondering why the world was pulling me towards him while I fought to leave. 

“Goodbye.” The words tasted bitter, acidic, even foul. I needed them out of my mouth, but I couldn’t take it back. I turned back down the hall and left, not hearing another word from him.

The moment I was outside of the building, I opened the black purse that had somehow stayed slung around my shoulder this entire escapade. I dug around recklessly, ignoring the silent, salty tears that poured into my mouth as I searched for my phone. 

‘Still has power, good.’ But I didn’t feel good, only empty. I unlocked the screen with a swipe of my thumb and opened up a maps app to show me where I was.

‘Only three blocks away from the Blue Goose.’ I thought as I read the directions. 

Following them quickly, I walked down the street doing my best to ignore the emptiness I felt creep up on me. It was the same before he came, before the monster had attacked. It was the same reason I had parked so far away from the bar, and why I walked through the dimly lit sidewalk last night to my motorcycle. I was lonely, desperate for it to end, but too cruel to let anyone in. I had wanted that creature, what Grey called a ‘Saecula’, to fulfill his promise. I wanted everything to end, yet even through the worst of circumstances that I face, I always ended up alive; alone, but alive.

“It’s not fair.” I mumbled bitterly, thinking of all the people that had gotten close to me, only to fall down dead like flies. I couldn’t help but wonder why did they have to die, why was it their time to go and to leave me here? Why could we not have gone together, or better yet, I had taken their place, even just to save one?

‘Why them, and not me?’ But I never got an answer.

Somehow or another, I managed to find my motorcycle still standing from the overnight sleepover in the alley and helmet still dangling on the back. I shoved the bright yellow jacket helmet over my head before I secured my phone and bag in the flip up compartment of the seat. I pulled out the keys from my pocket and made the yellow, Kawasaki Ninja hum. Revving slightly, it purred like a new born kitten under my fingers. I felt a rush of excitement every time I rode this vehicle, and up till last night, it was the only thing that had made me feel happy to be alive.

Zooming out of the alley with an unbridled speed, I zipped down the quiet Sunday morning road, taking back roads until I finally left the city and was at full speed down the country highway. The wind smacked against my visor and I felt it slip around my exposed neck and into my jacket like a violent, uninvited hand. It made my skin crawl, caused the hairs on my air to prick, and thrilled the blood coursing through my body.

Weaving along the country-side with the road, I found my head clear for once in too long a while, and wished it had lasted longer when I finally arrived home. I slowed into a gentle roll, my eyes gazing at my childhood home. It was a lovely mint green, an old craftsmen made in the early 1900’s. My parents had taken good care of it while they owned it, and when it came into my hands, I tried to keep their memory alive.

“I will miss this place.” I sighed, parking the Kawaski down the driveway.

I couldn’t afford to live here anymore, the taxes alone were too much, and after what happened two weeks ago, I needed to find a new job, and those are too few to count over here. I had a few offers, back west. I would have to leave Maine, leave the beauty of this state behind, leave all the memories I cherished to the past. 

I wasn’t sure I could. 

I wondered how I would ever be able to visit the graves of my parents if I moved, visit my best friend Kathrine who was two rows down from my parents and who was just a few graves over from Charolette and Clarence.

I couldn’t resist the urge a moment longer and grasped the heart locket that hung on my neck. It was made of black hills gold, the twin leaves and twin vines symbolizing what was held inside and what I had lost. I flipped open the delicate panel and gazed at the faces that stared directly back at me just like they had every morning; bright eyed and daring, ready for adventure. 

My ankles gave out from under me and I crumpled down to sit on the first step that lead up to the porch and cried. I ached so deeply, felt too much too quickly; it all tore at me and ate me away. Their sapphire blue eyes, curly blonde locks that gracefully fell down their faces. Their smiles were so full of life, of hope and innocence. I clung the locket to my breast as if they were in my arms once more, directly where the scar stung the worst. A literal wound that would never heal from a bullet that had just missed my heart by centimeters. The doctor had called me lucky.

Lucky.

I hated that word so much.

When the chill in the air began nipping too harshly upon my exposed skin, I found the incomprehensible strength to rise onto my shaky legs. My fingers numbly closed the locket and let it delicately drop down and hide once more under my shirt. I turned around and looked to my home, somehow having the courage to go inside and be swarmed with the memories of the past.

I hadn’t taken more than a step inside the soft, country themed decor of my mothers design when my phone started buzzing. I felt my heart drop while an annoying thumping began to rise in my head. There could only be one of two things calling me, and both I tried to avoid at all costs. I pulled my phone to look at it buzz in my hand, and sure enough…

“Oh.” That was surprising.

I quickly slid my thumb to answer and rose the phone to my ear.

“Hello?” I asked the hollow device, waiting for a reply.

“Alyra, I think it is time we talk.”

“Marcus.”