I woke that damp Fall morning, sweat running from my shoulders down my arms. The crisp cold air biting at my skin. Causing my hairs to stand up as my limbs become riddled with bumps. A calming shiver runs down my spine, as if the room itself was helping me wake.
I looked out through the window that lied directly next to my bed. I stared out into the street that ran perpendicular to my view. Staring and observing how the thick fog obstructs my view from the more distant houses. Making it seem as though the street stretches out into infinity. The tall Georgian houses built like walls, trapping my view to the fog as the distant morning sunrise defines the outlines of the buildings.
I take my steps to stand, rising next to my bed. Searching for a shirt as I head downstairs. I reached the living room and am met by no one, the house was empty.
"Again mom?", I called out, "two more days and you'll have a new record". I knew no one was around to listen as I spoke my thoughts aloud, filling the silence of a barren house.
It wasn't uncommon for mom to be missing through the days and nights. After the accident, how could I expect her to be the same. She was such a great caretaker back then. Always making sure I was ok, always patching up any scratch or bruises. However, these days are different. She's more distant now, only being home a night or two a week. I don't know exactly where she goes, but the distinct smell of alcohol on her breath has stopped surprising me. It's been over five years since the accident. Five years since she lost dad. Yeah they argued day and night, but at the end of it they were still married, I know she misses him.
My father was definitely an interesting man to say the least. Mom tells me he was a firefighter in the early beginning of his career, adds a sense of dramatic irony to how he went out to be honest. Mom used to talk about him a lot right after the accident. She told stories of families he saved and how he put his life on the line. Since I was so young, I assumed she was trying to remind me that he was someone to be proud of. However, word of him rarely passes through the house now.
I hopped in the shower and allowed the warm water to rush over me. The heat felt comforting as my morning chills were washed away. I stood in the shower listening to the water as it ran over my ears being mesmerized by the sound of heavy drops striking the tub's floor. But suddenly, running water increasingly slowed until it only permitted a few drops. I thought it strange, though she may be out a lot, mom at least remembers pay for water. I thought nothing more of it and decided to just carry on my morning planning to just brush my teeth in a sink once I get to school. After that, I dried off, wrapped my towel around my waist and stepped out the bathroom
Walking down the hall, a slight motion caught my attention from the corner of my eye, as though a head ducking around the corner of the stairwell. I stared frozen where I stood.
"Mom?!", I shouted out. "I didn't hear you come in."
Only silence followed my words. I headed down the hall before hastily swinging my head around the same corner. As I looked down the stairs, no one laid in sight, even though I didn't hear any steps creak their way down the stairs. I could even see the front door in my view, and how the lock remains untouched. That motion I seen, was then declared a figment of my imagination, a simple trick my mind made to fill the emptiness of my peripheral.
I dress myself in nothing special, wearing a simple pair of jeans accompanied by a green flannel button up which remained a size or two too large, extruding well past my waist. Only thing in my daily wear that holds value was a golden chain necklace that wrapped around my neck, one of my father's belongings left to me after his passing. And on the way out the door, I grabbed my school bag and swung it over my shoulder.
As I placed one foot in front of the other, I made my way towards campus. My 15 minute walk quickly faded out of thought as my mind wondered to other places. Before I knew it, I was standing at the front door of my first class which had a sign that read "class canceled." With a slight sigh of relief I walked into the center common area to wait for second period. I heard them much sooner than I seen them. Some of my peers were already there alongside me. Casual banter between a few small groups and gossip among the rest, yet all seemed to fall silent as I stepped outside. A few heads turned to stare or snarl at me while some of the quieter people just seemed to look at their feet. I ignored them.
The common area was a small circle of stone benches that surrounded a large brass statue of a bull, our classes mascot. It stood an easy 6 feet tall from its base. From there extruded four sidewalks to different wings of the school, each with a distinct letter carved into them representing one of the four cardinal directions. To the north was simple things such as the school entrance which had a large brick laid tower over the gate with a brass framed window at the top, the front office, student services, guidance hall, and the bus loop. The opposite direction, south, contained the more proactive amenities such as the gymnasium, the building used for club activities, the cafeteria, and further out were the different sport fields and stadiums. After that, east and south just held common classes. East was where more universal classes were held such as math, english, social studies, etc. While west got the elective courses such as automotive, welding, agriculture, art or music. Separating all of them were large patches of grass with a few symmetrically placed trees and this large hulking statue at their center.
Anyway, I walked past the stares I received and ignored the blatant muttering which occasionally held my name in hushed tones. I've been the center of attention like that for what seems like forever. Rumors follow me like a shadow. Usually having something to do with my absent mother, dead father, or rough appearance. I sat closer to the bull, sitting on the ground with my back against the large stone step that hoisted the statue roughly two feet off the ground. I pull my bag up to me and reach inside to grab simple notebook and pencil. With nothing better to do, I work on an English paper I have due later in the week. A simple writing assignment, a creative story essay that follows a hero's journey.
The king stood tall above his kingdom, he sat high and mighty in a throne ivory. He had a view straight through his giant hall of gold fitted statues, all with a silver sword hoisted up in respects to their ruler. Suddenly a statue collapsed to the ground, and then another. All stemming from a great tremor that shook his very city. The king fell down from his thrown, kneeling down as if in praise of someone greater. But who could have power greater than his? He was the king after all.
He hoisted himself up, using all his strength to stand tall again, and began to march forth in search of what could cause such a-
DING!!! DING!! DING!
That wretched bell scaring me half to death. Easing in intensity as my ears adjusted to each passing strike. The sound of a large metal bell is projected over the entirety of the school through loud speakers, all out of sync from each other. The school center seems to get the worst of it as the echo of every building reaches us at different times, producing an awful and uncanny sound. A rumor stems from it, or rather a myth, but said that in the center of the school when the hits a fabled sound of a weeping angel is heard. To me, it just sounds like torment, nails across a chalkboard.
I reach to my side to begin putting away my stuff. I flinch and jump back as my hand seems to find another. I look to my left and am met with the sight of a beautiful black haired girl. She sat there beside me with a notebook in hand, the pages seemingly overrun with doodles and what seemed like small poems. She wore black jeans that held holes on varied parts of her thighs and knees, a loose gray T-shirt with the collar seemingly ripped off causing a baggy look that exposed one of her shoulders and a black zip up jacket that fell down to her elbows and only covered a part of her lower back. Her hair went to her shoulders with a wavy and soft looking texture that seemed to flow as she moved her head. Wait, moved her head? She looked at me, her rich brown eyes that seemed like lakes of chocolate framed by her mascara that bared sharp points on the edge of her eyes. Her face pale with a small button nose sprinkled with freckles.
"Can I help you?" She asked.
"I'm sorry?" I questioned in response.
She looked down to my hand which still laid upon her's
"Right, sorry!" I said as I quickly retracted my hand and began putting away my things in a panic.
She giggled at me, giggled in a way that was new. It didn't seem condescending. "I'm-
YOU ARE READING
I Bring Hellfire
Ficção AdolescenteA broken boy with a fire inside of him alike no other. He faces his challenges and one day learns what he needs to fill that empty whole. He's far from normal, far from ok, and even further from humanity.
