Thoughts and Promises

Magic

I thought it would be more magical; mysterious and epic. I thought I was safe from the ordinary and boring, but it slipped into me. Under my skin, it poisoned my brain and ate away at my heart. My soul is more lonely than ever before, I cry into the wonder and the void with nothing to return back. I break myself, little and little, time and time again, with the hope of more.

The night goes on, and parties and music bounce off the wooden fences of my neighborhood. The splashing of a pool, drunken laughter, and excitement makes me feel at home, warm in the distance of it all. Doordashed Chinese food, supernatural and magical shows, and me alone typing stories more thrilling than anything I'll ever experience.

I imagine myself hearing the distant noise of other teenagers off in the distance as I walk down the empty street by myself. Then everything goes very quiet, very still, and I'm nervous. Something is off, and I can feel it. But I keep walking forward, aimlessly, as though something is calling to me.

I don't remember leaving the house, I have no keys, no phone, not even shoes on my feet as I continue on towards the glooming trees overtaking the grassy field. The gravel and rocks pinch and claw at my feet, but in a strange way, the pain and hurt are grounding me to the spot; this strange world.

"I think you're forgetting something," the voice jumps out. A faceless man, blocked by shadow and something else, starts towards me. "Your shoes."

"Yes," I say back, turning away.

"Yes? That's all you have to say?" I don't like this; something is wrong. When I look back at the man, his face is a blur behind the shadow of a hood, but his hands are visible. I can see them clearly; it's human, but off as though someone tried to draw them but couldn't get them exactly. The fingers are just a little too long, and the palms a little too narrow. They seem twitchy almost. Eager.

I hear the laughter from the nearby party light up again, pulling me from the man.

"You might want to get back to the..." I start again, but as I start to look back at him, a man who a minute ago only had a few inches on me has at least ten. His shoulders protrude from the hoodie like two rigid mountains, and his eyes have become so dark that they glow in the shadow.

I struggle back my foot, stepping on another sharp rock; this time, it breaks through the skin. The pain becomes a jolt of electricity, bringing me back to life. I start running faster than I ever have before.

I feel the wind rush past me and hear my own loud, shaking breath. The entire world is shaking and out of focus, and I can't think of what to do. I don't hear the creature behind me, and I don't dare to check if he's gone.

I hear some people up ahead, a group, maybe stragglers from the party, and run to them as quickly as I can, tripping but not letting myself fall. I come to a stop before them, nearly passing out from exhaustion. I try to speak, but I'm coughing and gagging from the dry air.

I feel a cool hand on my over-heating cheek pulling my face up from the ground. Kind eyes. They are nothing like the ones I saw before, they're light, maybe blue, maybe grey. Whatever they are, they are kind. He's also more boyish, with sharp features but a little bit of facial hair that makes his jaw appear softer a long, with longer playful hair that falls around his head. I pull the hand off my cheek and inspect it, it is nothing like the one before; they're just hands. Nothing upsetting or dangerous about this.

Keeping hold of the stranger's hand, I plead to him, "Please help me; there was something, a man, I think, or just something following me. Please help, please." A heavy tear falls, barely even touching my face; it just falls straight to the ground like the sort of rain that you wait days for when the clouds have been dark and heavy, and finally, the water breaks through. 

"A man, you think?" He asks, confused. He and three other boys I didn't notice standing behind him looked around. They all look a little wobbly, as though they've been drinking with the rest of the celebration up ahead, but they don't look like they were coming from the same house.

I turn hesitantly around with them to get a peak, nothing is there. Not even a hint of a shadow in the far-off distance where I once stood, or the rustle of bushes around us, not even a whisper of leaves crunching under his shoes. Absolutely nothing. 

Did I imagine it? I can't help but wonder if it was real. When I turn back around, I'm still met with the same confused and concerned faces as before. Here I am, standing before them in pajamas, with no shoes, and babbling like crazy. The worst part of it all is I know him, all of them. I have a class with each of these people, at least one if not two. On Monday, I'm going to have to face them, knowing that I've just done this. Suddenly I was very aware of what was happening, and I was very embarrassed. I look away from the most excruciating and awkward silence I've ever been in and look out once more.

There's nothing. Of course, there is nothing out there. I'm not even out there. The sounds of the tv and the much louder music bring me back to my true reality. 

There was nothing because it was not real. I sit here still on the couch, listening to music, looking out at the night sky that holds so many secrets, and daydreaming. For the longest time, I let myself slip too much into these dreams, alone pretending, that I started to believe that they would be real. That there was more out there, something exciting and adventurous that you only can read about in books or watch in movies. I wanted more, and with every lonely night that I sat with nothing but the disenchanting feeling that there was something out there, I began to hate reality more and more. 

I would write and imagine, more and more, creating these alternate worlds, hoping that I could delve into them. But as time went on, it wasn't enough. I want it back; the late nights by myself, the daydreams, and the heart racing as I imagine the possible unknown. As I feel callings from the night that begs me to follow its song. I want to go back, I'm trying to go back, but I know it's a slippery slope into a world separated from the rest, locked in my head and my mind. I don't want to spiral, but I feel as though I must. So I live on, watching and reading with hopeful and regretful eyes of enchanting stories. Unique and exhilarating, and for a moment, as I let my mind drift, maybe I won't be bored anymore.