Graceland Too

Meeting

 Imogen had often wished that the world was silent. Like the silence of the stables where her horses chewing was the only sound or the fields in which she spent her afternoons. Instead her world was chaotic, a cacophony of noise and emotion filling her to the brim each day from every angle. It hadn't always been that way. When she was a little girl things had been relatively normal. She'd heard whispers of course, from other parents to her father, saying she was such a "quiet child" and how strange it was that she never played with the other children. Imogen had never liked the other children much though, or any people for that matter. They were so loud. When she'd turned eighteen however, the world got exponentially less bearable. Around that time she'd started to hear people's voices, even when their mouths were shut. People's thoughts, cluttering into her own uncontrollably. There was so much hate there, and it scared her. While the thoughts barged into her head, the markings on her arms had started creeping up, lightning marks, a clear sign she was different. Each night she was plagued by dreams of a red storm, coming closer and closer as she ran for her life. The sound of her mother's voice haunted those nights, always telling her to run, run away from the storm. Things had changed then. The whispers turned into pointed glares, moving aside, and the occasional sneer. Her father, always a bit of a cold man, had become almost an entirely different person, closing himself away from her. She'd become a shut-in, as the streets of the crowded town were too much to handle, voices scattered across every square inch. Today however, Imogen was in town to buy some feed for the horses.

It was late at night, late enough that the red moon had risen fully to rest at its destination in the sky. As she swept through the streets, the normal rumble filled her head. People's minds, buzzing from a day of work on their way home. Taking a deep breath, Imogen hurried faster, stuffing her hands deeper into the folds of her blue skirt. The faster she got to the shop the faster she could get back. The cobblestone roads of the tiny town she lived in were uneven and cracked, yet she'd grown up here and knew them like the back of her hand. As she trudged over the familiar terrain, the thoughts of the townsfolk drifted by, what should we have for dinner? Did I hide it well enough today? Fuck, my back hurts, and...

Imogen paused, confused. A new sound was there, stirring in the back of her mind. It was...calmer, gentler than the harsh chatter of the people around her. Closing her eyes, Imogen tried to listen. It was quiet at first but as she focused it got louder, a strange humming, something indescribable but close to guitars. She'd never heard something so beautiful before, almost like music. Opening her eyes, Imogen turned around, searching for its source. The streets were fairly empty, just a couple of stragglers coming home from work, an occasional family and just a few dimly lit shops. At the end of the street was a shop with a big wooden sign, the shop where she normally got her horse feed from. She started slowly heading towards it, scanning the surroundings for the source of that beautiful sound. As she got closer though, a new noise entered the area, and one that wasn't echoing within the walls of her head. There was the sound of movement in the alleyway next to the store, a muffled thud. Drawing nearer, Imogen's eyes narrowed, adjusting to the dim light.

Behind the store in the narrow alleyway was a group of men, ones she knew well. They were known about town, around her age. The son of the mayor and his own personal group of troublemakers. Laying at their feet was a cowering shape, draped in a hooded cloak.

"What's going on here?" The words left Imogen's lips before she had time to think. Slowly, the man in front turned around with a sneer. He had a wide brimmed straw hat, and was missing one of his front teeth. His name was Jason, the mayor's son.

"What do you care, freak?" Imogen reeled back a bit at the word, but peered past him towards the figure in the cloak. The music was getting louder now, though it was staccato and panicked in pitch. She couldn't make out much beneath the folds of fabric save for some strands of dark hair and two dark eyes.

"Who...who is that?" Jason snorted and took a step towards her.

"Some traveler from out of town. Took something from ol Hank here's papa's store." The man in the back with brown overalls grunted, kicking at the crumpled figure. Jason turned back to Imogen, "you might get along with her Temult. She's freakier than even you." At this, the figure on the ground reached out a hand towards Imogen, long and spindly with sharp black nails.

"I didn't take it! I swear! I was just trying to buy some thread and fabric I wouldn't-" Hank silenced her with another crushing kick to the side, causing her to fall.

"Shuddup you fucking hag." Imogen felt her hand clench into a fist.

"Stop." Jason blinked.

"Stop?" He barked, a smile curling onto his lips. "Stop! Well this is rich coming from you." Imogen felt her hands start to sweat but didn't back down as his face got closer to hers, close enough she could see the uneven trim of his inconsistent stubble. "What right do you think you have to tell us to stop Temult. You know what, maybe it's fate or maybe you're just stupid but I wouldn't mind killing two birds with one stone. Besides-" he looked her up and down "your friend isn't much of a looker. I was worried me and the boys wouldn't have any fun tonight." Fear and disgust prickled down Imogen's neck as she heard his thoughts, loud and clear coursing through her mind. He grinned, knowing full well she was aware of them. Feeling her face start to burn red hot, Imogen unclasped her fist, holding it out and lightly pressing her fingers against his chest. Her stomach started to turn, a rumbling sensation filling it like the one she felt during those dreams. Closing her eyes she could picture that red storm, its tendrils reaching for her. She felt a tingling sensation creep up her arms as she felt the storms grasp and heard her mother whisper, run. A burst of electric energy surged from Imogen's hand, knocking into the chest of the man in front of her, blowing him back into the alley. He sputtered and coughed, landing on his ass, his hair standing straight up as if he'd been hit with a bolt of lightning.

"What the fuc-" Imogen raised her hand and hit him again, the lightning hitting him in streaks this time. He leaned over, coughing then wiped his hand over his mouth, now red with blood. Stumbling to his feet, he called out to his boys "run! Fucking run! She's fucking crazy!" Quickly, the other two men started to scramble away, one grabbing the shoulder of Jason, supporting him. As the three men dashed out the other end of the alley, Imogen felt her hands begin to cool, the scars fading back to their usual dull glow.