Thursday, October 21, 2010

Prologue--Title Unknown

A dark, dreary night I never knew could have existed swept across the city of Abel. The town kept its quiet, stable nature, and my family, my family we kept our heads down, in concealment, barely moving, scarcely speaking, and trying not to attract the attention of townsfolk.
My family was a notorious one, this is true. We were the Emerson family, an ancient, large family that has been in Abel since the town first began. I was the youngest, the only girl of the family, passed over and ignored often because of my young age and gender. They didn’t understand that I was much more capable of what they thought, but I was smart and kept it under wraps.
I had three older brothers; Mark, Jeremy, and Winston. Mark had short, curly hair as dark as ebony. He was fifteen years old, the middle child of the Emerson clan. He was an intelligent, quick-witted boy with a mouth that often got him into trouble. Jeremy was younger than Mark, and of course, older than I, being thirteen. He was a quiet, average-minded boy with courtesy and creativity. Winston, the oldest, being eighteen, was a mean-spirited, cruel individual. He was a genius, this was true, but he dropped out of school at the young age of sixteen for his reason being that he was “tremendously, overwhelmingly bored.”
I, oh, I was the most interesting of all, in my… humble opinion. For no one, no one had my… particular gift. My gift, so unusual, so powerful for my age; I had a super mind, of sorts. I can solve any math problem. Predict the outcome of any situation. I knew all. There was nothing, absolutely nothing I didn’t know. And at the tender age of five, you have to keep these things hidden, for you don’t want a small town of feud-making civilians knowing of a secret power such as this.
I haven’t told a soul, for my mind knew if I did, bad things were to come, terrible, terrible things. Now because of this mind, it does not mean I never make mistakes; I do, and do often, for I am, after all, human. We all make them. It is how we were designed.
I did have a friend, just one, and her name was Juliet. She was bright and optimistic, and being around her made me feel wholesome. Now, I said she was bright, but she, too, was only five, and didn’t have the mind I had been born with. Juliet, as no one did, did not know of my super mind, and I had to dumb myself quite a bit to blend in with the wild, moronic crowd that is kindergarten, but it is all worthwhile, to hide my secret, so dear to me that I wouldn’t risk a single thing on it.
But that was enough about me. You don’t need to know any more about me. You are the only… living soul that knows of me. Your choice to know of this was very, very lethal, very lethal indeed. But so be it. Now you know, and I know, and things must be done, no? 

Monday, July 19, 2010

Another Entry for the Competition (Irony Galore)

I was desperate for something to happen, to save me. The dark wrapped around me, constricting my lungs, making it difficult to breathe. I saw nothing, felt nothing, except for the rocking chair across the room. Swaying, back and forth, creaking eerily. Was there something there? What did it want? The whispers started, not really saying anything, not doing anything, just whispering, absorbing my fear, and growing from it. I couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. Evil mocked me, and even the rocker was fading…

With the last ounce of breath I could muster, I screamed, “WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME?” The darkness overtook me, and I saw no more.

Light. Blur. Shapes. This was all I could process, but even the little light I could see at this point was comforting, and it refreshed me. It was then I realized the blurry shape in front of me was the silhouette of a girl.

“You are awake,” she said simply. Her skin was pale and soft, so pale, it seemed she had never stepped out in sunlight in her life. She had blue eyes--big eyes, almost too big, and too knowing. She had long, blond hair that fell gracefully down her back. She looked about 8 years old, and there was something in her eyes that compelled me to protect her, and to care for her. I couldn’t ever let her out of my sight.

It was so sunny out here, the place was so surreal, so magical. The girl sat there and stared at me for the longest time, before she got up, and walked away.

My heart lurched. Where was she going? Without me? What if she walked into the unforgiving arms of danger? My brain was telling me this was unreasonable, that I shouldn’t follow her, but something else… something that seemed more significant was telling me to follow her. I had to protect her.

I brushed the hair out of my face and slowly got up. The little girl had stopped waiting for me. She smiled, and all of a sudden, a wave of darkness swept her away. My heart lurched a little. She couldn’t leave me here. Didn’t she understand I had to be with her? I chased after her, fell to the ground where she had stood, and sobbed. I didn’t know why I was crying; it made no sense. I didn’t know who this child was.

“I’m right here,” the girl’s voice said. “I’ll wait for you.”

Right where? Wait where? I didn’t know where to find her. My heart was aching, I needed to be with her!

“Follow the light,” her voice said again. “That’s where you’ll find me.”

Almost instantly, an orb of light appeared, lingering above the air next to me. It started to move forward; everything in my mind was telling me to stay where I was, to go no further. Nevertheless, my legs kept moving forward, following the light, not even blinking. I had to find her!

How long did I walk? An hour? Ten minutes, thirty? I had no idea. Whether it had been a second or a day, it made no difference. All that mattered now was that I was there.

Well, almost. The light had left me at this mansion, and it was so different from where I had awoken… all too familiar…

It was dark, very dark. Blackness surrounded it, and I heard laughs, whispers, and crying. I didn’t want to be here. But I had to--I had to find the girl. I had to protect her, make sure harm never came her way.

I heard a loud, piercing scream, and I knew instantaneously who it belonged to--her. I ran toward the doors, pushed, pulled, hit, and the door wouldn’t budge. I kept on though. Through my tears and screams, I tried the hardest I could to break through the door.

And then it opened. And I saw a place that looked all to familiar… where had I seen it last…

“It took you long enough,” the girl was there, on the other side of the room, staring coldly at me.

I couldn’t speak. I was shoved against the wall--I had been in this situation before… where, where? The girl disappeared, vanished from sight, and it was then I saw it. The rocker. Back and forth. Creak. The coldness spread through my veins like venom, the whispers crowding my mind, disabling my ability to react.

The rocker stopped suddenly, and with the stop of the rocker came the stop of the cold, the pain, the despair.

And the girl stood from the rocker and shot over to me quicker than light. “Look familiar?” she asked me. Then it hit me. The dream! I was here in the dream! Then it sunk deeper. I was still in the dream.

She must have saw the look on my face, because she smiled and said, “I thought so. You must be very confused. You feel attached to me, and you don’t know why. You don’t know why you’re here, or why I brought you here, do you?

I said nothing. Her smile broadened. “I’m allowing you answers before you… leave me,” she said with a terrifying smirk. “I am called Dream Scout. I’m not here because I want to be, but because it is my fate. I haunt the minds of people, kill them in their dreams. But I’m not your typical Fred Kruger,” she said, laughing manically. “I’m far worse, because I’m real.”

I tried to move, tried to run, but I couldn’t. I was stuck to the ground on which I stood. This was bad… very, very bad.

“You can’t leave, now,” she said. “You’ve already played my little games. It’s time you died.”

The once beautiful face of the girl morphed into a sick, terrifying face. The mouth opened wide, and the last thing I thought about before I slipped into eternal darkness was one word.


Mr. Hankins (Epilogue)

My wife sat on the other said of the glass, looking like she had been through quite a lot, though I could only blame her for the death of Capri. She wore the orange jumpsuit that all criminals in the county jail were required to wear, and she spoke through the phone with a whisper.

“I still don’t forgive you,” Tracey wheezed. “You are a traitor, and--”

“I told you once, and I will tell you again, I did not have an affair with that woman. She meant nothing to me, and it’s time you understood that.”

“Don’t lie to me!” She cried. “I saw you! You kissed Capri more passionately than you ever kissed me--and I’m your wife.”

I said nothing, for I knew she was right. Even my welcome kiss to Capri was more romantic than any kiss I had ever shared with Tracey. But Capri didn’t deserve to be killed. And she didn’t deserve my departing words to her, but I had to say that to avoid also being killed…

“Why so silent, husband? Finally realized I was right? That you’re a lying, thieving--”

I held my hand in the air. “I admit, Capri and I had an affair--”

“--so I was righ--”

“Let me finish. It was wrong of me… I don’t know what I was thinking.” I stopped, my voice quavering. “But you have to believe that you’re the only one now, and I want to put this behind us.”

Tracey stopped, her face, once so full of rage, had turned somber. “That means I wasn’t enough for you.” And with that, she burst into a fit of tears. “Why wasn’t I enough?”

I was startled by this. Not because she was crying--that was perfectly understandable. I was shocked because seeing her cry didn’t bother me. Her frustration and grief meant nothing to me. I simply stared at her sob, feeling nothing, doing nothing. I had to of been in love with Capri.

“I did the right thing in killing Capri, then,” Tracey stammered through her tears.

I said nothing. I had made my choice.

Two days later, a man by the name of Ben visited Tracey’s cell.

“Tracey, I am sad to say that we found your husband dead this morning, at approximately 7 in the morning. It is evident he had hung himself, ultimately killing him. We are very sorry, and express our deepest regards to your husband’s death.”

“He’s dead?” she asked quietly.

“Yes, Mrs. Hankins. We are very sorry.” And with that, the man by the name of Ben left the jail, while Mrs. Hankins slipped into the void of her mind.

Mr. Hankins (The Story I Wrote for a Writing Competition

I blankly looked out of the window into the deserted yard of my next door neighbor. All was serene and placid, until all of a sudden the door opened, and out stepped Mr. Hawkins, looking cheerful and handsome as always. As he opened the car door of his black Volvo, he looked straight at me, if only momentarily, but looked right away, for he did not want his wife to see he was looking at me.

The car rolled away, and I sighed and slouched to the floor. There was a steady drip from the kitchen sink, interupting my thoughts... what am I going to do... I shouldn't have done what I did....

Later that evening, Mrs. Hawkins drove away, and a few minutes after, Mr. Hawkins appeared in my driveway. Not again, I thought. We're in too deep as it is!

When the doorbell rang, I jumped up, and suddenly, I realized I hadn't moved from this position all day. My back was aching, as was my neck, from the uncomfortable angle my neck had rested on all day against the wall.

I opened the door to find a smiling, middle aged man, carrying a briefcase. His beige suit had a mustard stain on its left shoulder. "Hello, my love. How was your day?" And then he swept me up into a passionate kiss. It was.... lovely, to say the least.

I could simply not admit to him that I had done nothing since his departure. "Oh it was good, I suppose. That drippy sink in the kitchen has been a bit of a nuisance."

"Shall we continue where we left off?" Mr. Hawkins proposed, as he stroked my cheek softly.

"Mr. Hawkins, as much as I would like to, my concious has been weighed terribly with guilt. What about Mrs. Hawkins?" Mr Hawkins, who sighed deeply, then said, "Darling, we've been through this before. I don't love my wife. I love you."

"Yes, I know. But imagine how she would feel if she knew--"

It was then my feet were stuck to the floor as if nailed. I could not say another word, for the thing I feared most was standing at my window. "Mr. Hawkins... your... y-your w-w-wife...."

Mr. Hawkins face was calm and emotionless. Mrs.Hawkins, quite the opposite, was fuming, her eyes puffy from where she was crying. How much had she seen? I thought, as I searched my head, trying to find a vaild excuse for such a thing. How could I be so careless? Leaving the curtains open like this--

Mr. Hawkins walked over to door and pulled it open. "My love, home so ear--" But Mr. Hawkins never finished his sentence. Mrs. Hawkins had slapped him clear across the face, apparantly so hard it hurt her own hand. She looked savage--she was shaking uncontrolably, her eyes darting from this end of the room to the other.


I couldn't move. I was a statue, frozen in fear. Mrs. Hawkins is going to kill you, I thought desperately to myself.DO something!

But I simply couldn't. I then took everything in from the room--Mrs. Hawkins charging at me with a knife, the window, without the curtain closed, the painting of my children, and finally to Mr. Hawkins. Sweet, gentle, happy Mr. Hawkins... who was saying as his wife ran toward me, "That's right, honey. Kill her. Kill the *****. I never loved her. Never."

And with the closing of those words, my heart broke, and the knife pierced my chest.


Monday, July 12, 2010

(Title Name Unknown) Chapter One

As I look out the window of my bedroom, I replay memories over and over in my head. Some of them are happy, nice, and others make me cringe, put myself on the verge of tears. Of course, the mind works in funny ways, I can’t control what memories come to mind. Like commercials on the television, you never know what will come next, until it’s there, raw and painful.

But I couldn’t think of the past now. The truth was too overwhelming. I had a whole life to look forward to.

I could here the floorboards creak outside my door, and I knew my grandfather was coming, I straightened myself out on my bed, and jammed my iPod headphones in my ears, trying to appear I had been busy, rather than dwelling on the past.

Sure enough, the door handle twisted, and in stepped the face of an aged man, about sixty, with droopy cheeks and dull eyes. Old people could be so… .boring looking.

“What you up to, girl?” he said, a smile on his face. I hated that smile. Always there, even when it shouldn’t be. I held up my iPod as a gesture.

“Fancy music machines,” he muttered. “Don’t know a thing about ‘em!”

I just nodded. I despised these conversations between me and Grandpa. Long and meaningless, without getting anything out of them. I stared willingly at my iPod screen, it was still off, no music coursing through the headphones, but I kept thinking Grandpa would go away if it looked like I was busy.

I was wrong.

“So you and I should do something today,” he nudged my arm. “They’re having a fish fry over at the fire department--”

“No, Gramps. I…. have plans.”

Boy, that was a good one. It didn’t take a moron to know that I didn’t have a friend in the world. I was the ‘weird kid’ that no one talked to, the girl in the corner of the room that no one gives a notice in the world. Grandpa knew all of this, but he was nice, so he said, “Well that’s great! What are you doing?” At this point, I didn’t know if he was really being nice or just mocking me.

“Uh, some girl from school.”

“Her name?”

“Err….” I paused a moment. “Rachel. Rachel Cummings.”

“Rachel’s a nice name.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“What are you two wild girls gonna do?” Yes. Wild indeed, I was. Talk about your eye roll statement.

“I dunno. Just hang around, I guess.”

“How long you known each other?”

I sat up in my bed and ripped the headphones out of my ears. “What’s with the twenty questions? Jeez…”

“I was just asking. It’s not everyday you go to hang out with a… friend.”

I didn’t reply. I placed the headphones back in my ears, and pretended to listen to music. I think Grandpa finally understood I wanted to be left alone, because he got up and made his way toward the door. Before he left, he looked over at me, and said, “You know, you look just like your mother.”

At that, I looked up at him, blankly, trying not to show emotion about what he just said. Mom had been dead for two years now, why did he always have to pop her back in the picture? No one really cares that I’m trying to forget. Trying to move on, so people will stop thinking I’m nuts.

Grandpa gave me one last dreaded smile, and walked out the door.

Now all that was on my mind was how I was going to pull over my having plans for this afternoon.