Angel threw back his comforter, letting the cold morning air bite into his skin. The alarm continued to ring, but he lay on his side. Another fifteen minutes tempted him to no end. He could just reset the alarm, thus enjoying a morning of sleep, but he couldn’t afford another absence. One more absence, and he’d be suspended; he felt the need to remind himself.
Yawning, the boy pulled himself up and onto his feet, away from the comfort of the mattress. He plopped down in the chair and picked up his pen, untying the leather-covered journal. Taking a moment, Angel let out of furious yawn that could be mistaken for a painful cry to anyone else, and then began to write.
5/1/10
I just want to sleep in for the day. Had another bad dream… she died again. I couldn’t save her. I dunno why I keep having the same nightmare, but it happens at least once a week now. Do I even know her? I don’t even feel like myself in the dreams. It’s like I’m looking through someone else’s eyes.
There’s an attic (what I think is an attic) on fire and the girl is being burned alive. That’s not normal, right? Well, at least for me. I guess it’s just me going crazy. Mom didn’t call last night. I’m kinda mad, but what’s the point? She works all the time… she never calls…
Anyway, I’m going to get ready. Maybe I can get a seat next to Lindsey in Health. Her birthday is this Friday, so I have to top off the gift I’ve been saving for her. Maybe she’ll actually say ‘yes’. It’s going to be slow today… another Monday.
He shuffled down the hall to the bathroom to brush his teeth. Then it was time to shower and stuff his face with a blueberry muffin. The house was silent, which meant that his father left for work early in order to beat the morning rush. This also meant that Angel would have to walk to school, which sent a ping of irritation through his mind.
It only meant that he would have to walk to school, but it was quite inconvenient. Looking at the digital clock on the stove, he realized that he would have to leave earlier now. Slinging his backpack over his shoulder, he was out the door and to the garage where he found his black bike. He pedaled down the driveway and out to the end of the block.
Thirty minutes would be a long ride, but he was accustomed to riding his bike. Even though his dad sometimes offered transportation, he knew it wasn’t always guaranteed since the old man worked almost an hour away; school was in the opposite direction.
Angel squeezed the brakes when he came to the stop sign across the street from his school. He scanned through the crowds of teens to find his friends, but all he could see was the separation between the cliques. The popular kids hung out in the parking lot; each of them had their own car, luxury or sport. Some of them came in pairs, so not all of them had their cars in the lot, but it didn’t matter. They were the face of the school; the mascots that led behind the actual mascot. Derrick Aster, the perpetual leader of the group, seemed to take an interest in Angel since the year began. The tech-savvy pitcher for the baseball team separated from his group to hang out with Angel, giving the boy more attention from the student body than he needed… more than he wanted.
It wasn’t that he didn’t like Derrick, but he found it odd that he would show an interest now. They attended the same schools and classes since third grade, and they couldn’t have been more opposite. Angel enjoyed flying under the radar, at least since he didn’t feel connected to anyone at the school. There was no one he could identify with, and he made peace with that. Derrick seemed to live on the attention he got for his achievements and activities.
They locked eyes, and Derrick made his way over, smiling and waving to his friends. He jogged across the street, and there was no way Angel could neglect to notice, “You taking in the sights?”
Angel gave a small smile and shrugged, “I guess.”
A silence settled between them as Angel dismounted his bike. He knew Derrick struggled to come up with something to say each time they did this, so he decided to take the initiative, “So, how was your weekend?”
“Eh, okay.” The taller, dark-haired boy couldn’t tan his pallid skin to save his life, but he still made it look good. It was something Angel wanted to learn; not the skin color part considering Angel was at least ten shades darker, but the confidence to pull it off, “Went to my cousin’s wedding. It was nice, but I don’t like dancing with aunt’s and uncles. What about you?”
“Nothing, really. I did homework and watched some movies, but that’s about it.” Just then, the bell rang. Without hesitating, Angel began to cross the street with his bike.
“So, I know we’ve got different schedule’s and all that, but we should chill sometime.” Derrick said
“Uh-“ Angel stopped, the tires on his bike squeaked against the pavement, and whipped his head back toward Derrick. This ‘relationship’ was strange enough, but in that moment, he didn’t know how approach it, “Yeah.”
Wide-eyed, as he realized what he let slip through his lips, he couldn’t possibly take it back now, and he had a feeling it would come back to haunt. Derrick obviously wanted something; he wanted something, and he was desperate. Why else would he want to hang out now after ignoring Angel’s existence for so long?
“Great!” Derrick exclaimed, hi-fiving Angel as he walked away, “I’ll buy you a soda after school. See ya!”
“But-“ But Derrick was already in the parking lot, walking to the building with his other friends. Angel was left with his quiet words, as he had no time to protest, “-I don’t drink soda.”
It would have to take the backseat for now. He needed to lock his bike and get to homeroom, and hopefully get through the day without too much irritation. Sighing, he walked his bike to the rack, locking it up and tucking the key into his pocket. It was time to begin the day, “Another Monday…”
Sunday, November 28, 2010
Monday, November 15, 2010
Young Guns: Perfect Day to Die 1
(Sorry for the delay, folks! It's been a long time... I shouldn't have left you... If you don't laugh, you're lame ;-) Anyway, this is my new story, and I'll be posting periodically with new parts. Thanks for reading! I'M BACK!)
“Do you see him?” Crosshair heard, but her attention was focused on the image through the scope. The butt of the rifle rested comfortably in the crevice between her underarm and breast. She gripped the trigger lightly as she focused on the target, ready to take the shot if need be. She had her shoulder-length, black hair in a tight ponytail to eliminate rouge strands from falling in front of her aquamarine eyes.
In the dark of night, her black leotard seemed to make her ‘invisible’ to unsuspecting travelers. And in the woods of the suburban, and homey Rightdale, invisibility was exactly what Crosshair needed. The belt hung loose enough that she wasn’t troubled by the weight of the equipment, but tight enough that if unlatched, she would immediately know.
“I’ve got him.” She responded with a pinch of irritation in her voice. It might have been because she enjoyed performing her missions solo, or because her concentration was interrupted. She had the muzzle pointed toward the second story window of the russet house.
“I know what you’re thinking.” The voice behind her was warm, but distant all the while. He seemed to be playing toward her sentimental side.
“That he’s not worth our time?” She continued to frown through the scope, a figure in her sights; a boy, in fact. From what she saw, he was her age, and quite innocent at that, “I’m glad we’re on the same page.”
“The change will begin very soon. You know as well as I do that we need to be ready.” The voice drifted into her ears, calm and soothing, but it didn’t matter.
“We don’t need another one getting in the way.” Crosshair put a bit of pressure on the trigger, the boy would never know what hit him. Then, as she almost let her wants become a reality; a gloved hand lightly gripped her arm, pulling it and the rifle down. The seventeen year-old let her frown deepen into a scowl as she turned her gaze to her hooded accomplice. Well, ‘accomplice’ was completely inaccurate. The six-foot shadow was more of a father to her than she could ever say about her own father… that is if she knew her real father.
“Don’t let uncertainty cloud your mind. He will have a role to play just like you and I.” His auburn eyes reached into hers, looking to see her thoughts; her dreams. A relaxing wave of calm washed over her, and she knew exactly what he was doing. The girl immediately turned away, kneeling toward her small duffle bag amongst the crunchy leaves.
“Don’t.” She began to disassemble the rifle, securing the pieces in the bag. Crosshair blushed as her thoughts went to what he might have seen.
“Your nightmares-“ The concern in his voice rose. She felt him right behind her now, his piercing eyes on her back.
“They’re fine, Midnight.” Zipping the bag, she slung it over her shoulder. Looking back toward the house, the distance became relevant without the scope, but the boy’s silhouette remained in the window, “Besides, you wanted to show him to me. I saw him. Can we go?”
The hood of Midnight’s tattered trench coat came down just above his eyes, untied to show his white dress shirt and black, leather pants. His pallid skin sagged just a little over his cheekbones, and deep creases led away from his diffident eyes. He slowly waved his arm toward the house, “You will see. He will blossom from the change, and you will see.”
Crosshair turned, gripped the strap of the duffle bag. She scoffed as she ventured deeper into the woods, her feet crushing the dead foliage, “Whatever, but if gets out of control, I’ll kill him myself.”
Given her past, Midnight couldn’t blame her for being so jaded, but he also couldn’t help but cringe at her disconnected nature. Watching her disappear into the black; he would catch up with her later. At the moment, he shifted his gaze back to the house. The light of the bedroom was off, joining the rest of the house in a quiet slumber. The man let a tiny smirk grace his mug, then drifted into the night along with his hopes for what was to come.
“Do you see him?” Crosshair heard, but her attention was focused on the image through the scope. The butt of the rifle rested comfortably in the crevice between her underarm and breast. She gripped the trigger lightly as she focused on the target, ready to take the shot if need be. She had her shoulder-length, black hair in a tight ponytail to eliminate rouge strands from falling in front of her aquamarine eyes.
In the dark of night, her black leotard seemed to make her ‘invisible’ to unsuspecting travelers. And in the woods of the suburban, and homey Rightdale, invisibility was exactly what Crosshair needed. The belt hung loose enough that she wasn’t troubled by the weight of the equipment, but tight enough that if unlatched, she would immediately know.
“I’ve got him.” She responded with a pinch of irritation in her voice. It might have been because she enjoyed performing her missions solo, or because her concentration was interrupted. She had the muzzle pointed toward the second story window of the russet house.
“I know what you’re thinking.” The voice behind her was warm, but distant all the while. He seemed to be playing toward her sentimental side.
“That he’s not worth our time?” She continued to frown through the scope, a figure in her sights; a boy, in fact. From what she saw, he was her age, and quite innocent at that, “I’m glad we’re on the same page.”
“The change will begin very soon. You know as well as I do that we need to be ready.” The voice drifted into her ears, calm and soothing, but it didn’t matter.
“We don’t need another one getting in the way.” Crosshair put a bit of pressure on the trigger, the boy would never know what hit him. Then, as she almost let her wants become a reality; a gloved hand lightly gripped her arm, pulling it and the rifle down. The seventeen year-old let her frown deepen into a scowl as she turned her gaze to her hooded accomplice. Well, ‘accomplice’ was completely inaccurate. The six-foot shadow was more of a father to her than she could ever say about her own father… that is if she knew her real father.
“Don’t let uncertainty cloud your mind. He will have a role to play just like you and I.” His auburn eyes reached into hers, looking to see her thoughts; her dreams. A relaxing wave of calm washed over her, and she knew exactly what he was doing. The girl immediately turned away, kneeling toward her small duffle bag amongst the crunchy leaves.
“Don’t.” She began to disassemble the rifle, securing the pieces in the bag. Crosshair blushed as her thoughts went to what he might have seen.
“Your nightmares-“ The concern in his voice rose. She felt him right behind her now, his piercing eyes on her back.
“They’re fine, Midnight.” Zipping the bag, she slung it over her shoulder. Looking back toward the house, the distance became relevant without the scope, but the boy’s silhouette remained in the window, “Besides, you wanted to show him to me. I saw him. Can we go?”
The hood of Midnight’s tattered trench coat came down just above his eyes, untied to show his white dress shirt and black, leather pants. His pallid skin sagged just a little over his cheekbones, and deep creases led away from his diffident eyes. He slowly waved his arm toward the house, “You will see. He will blossom from the change, and you will see.”
Crosshair turned, gripped the strap of the duffle bag. She scoffed as she ventured deeper into the woods, her feet crushing the dead foliage, “Whatever, but if gets out of control, I’ll kill him myself.”
Given her past, Midnight couldn’t blame her for being so jaded, but he also couldn’t help but cringe at her disconnected nature. Watching her disappear into the black; he would catch up with her later. At the moment, he shifted his gaze back to the house. The light of the bedroom was off, joining the rest of the house in a quiet slumber. The man let a tiny smirk grace his mug, then drifted into the night along with his hopes for what was to come.
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