Midnight Symphony

Midnight Symphony: Coming Soon

Midnight Symphony

Chapter 1-Preview

I wasn’t even two-years-old when my parents and my four-year-old brother and I were run off the road by a drunk driver. Our minivan rolled down the hill through the thick forest, my brother crying and my mother screaming. Our bodies rattled around the inside of the car, crashing into everything.

I remember their cries and screams as the car rolled and tumbled and then slammed into a large oak tree, hitting the side my brother and mother were on. I remembered how their cries had instantly vanished from the air and were replaced by gurgled noises.

And my father? He died instantly when the large SUV struck our car, the metal side crushing him, his body now halfway through the shattered window. Somehow, I had missed the chaos, the crushing metal, the tree. My little car seat was tipped upside down; my head was only inches from the floor of the car.

I began crying, screaming. I could see all their faces. My brother’s. My father’s. My mother’s. Bloody. Pale. Cut. Torn.

Then hands and voices. A lot of voices. My vision was blurred from the blood rushing to my jostled head and the tears escaping my eyes, but I was just barely able to make out the figures crowded around my destroyed car. They reached in through the windows, opening the doors, their hands all over my family.

            “Dead!” I heard one voice call out.

            “Dead,” came another voice, loud and sullen.

            “Dead, too,” a third announced.

            “This one’s alive!” I felt hands on my little car seat, adjusting it and fixing me right side up. My throat had gone dry and my voice disappeared. The seat belt that had been wrapped around my shoulders and torso was almost immediately replaced by soft yet stiff arms. The voices were suddenly soft, but a lot of people were still gathered around, crowding around me. I wanted to scream and cry again, but my throat was raw and hurting.

I was being cradled, a soft voice gently whispering to me things I couldn’t understand. It was a woman. Her voice was gentle and soothing, her gentle hand carefully stroking my hair. She slowly moved through the forest, her feet crunching the dead leaves on the forest floor. I remember the other people were moving around her, following her. She also spoke quietly to a man that walked alongside her, his deep voice low in attempt to sound calm.

I then remember feeling tired, my vision pulsing black. My eyelids felt heavy and slowly consumed my vision of the world. The figures got blurrier before they disappeared altogether, replaced by endless darkness.

I bolted up, sweat dripping down my face. Tears lined my eyes before gliding down my moist cheeks. The room was hot, hotter under my covers, yet I shivered uncontrollably. It was that nightmare again.

            Every night for the past fourteen years, that same haunting memory has been plaguing my nightmares and staining my daydreams. Not a day or night passes by when the faint memory of that day doesn’t come back to torture me. I could still remember their faces… their bloody, mutilated faces.

            I crawled out of bed and walked into the bathroom, the bright light burning my eyes when I flipped on the switch. The white tiles were cold beneath my feet as I padded across the spacious room towards the sink. I sighed as I leaned against it and glared at my reflection. Dark circles underlined my vibrant amber eyes and contrasted against my ghostly pale skin, but neither were a match against my dark magenta lips. If you asked me; I reminded myself of a clown.

            I turned the faucet on and cupped my hands under the running water, splashing it against my face.  It was cool against my burning skin and a raspy sigh escape my lips. Again, I cup my hands and filled them with water, but this time I sipped it, relieving my parched throat. It was the same, aching feeling that I have in my dreams; my dreams which are almost too real to be dreams.

My heart nearly jumped out of my chest when a knock sounded from the door. Hesitantly briefly, I turned and walked back out of the bathroom and went for the door.

            “You alright?” Ari asked the moment I opened the door. I stared at him for a moment as I processed his words, my mind still a foggy mess. It almost always was, but it was almost completely clouded over at night or after a nightmare.

            “Yeah, why do you ask?” I whispered, glancing up and down the dark hall. It must be about two o’clock in the morning.

            “I heard you walking around up here and just wanted to make sure you were okay,” he smiled kindly. I returned him a half smile, the end of my lip twitching.

            “What, do all you werewolves have super hearing? Even I couldn’t hear my own footsteps,” I mused quietly. Ari’s hazel eyes lit up a bit at my late-night-early-morning sarcastic humor.

            “Eh, some better than others,” he shrugged. “So, you’re alright?”

            “Yes, Ari, I’m fine. Go back to bed now,” I drawled, shooing him away. He grinned as he kissed the top of head briefly before he turned and disappeared down the hall. I closed the door and leaned against it, knowing I definitely wasn’t going to be getting any sleep anytime soon. Especially not when death was haunting my dreams.