Shadows and Secrets: The Academy Chronicles

Chapter 1

My heart raced. I was certain my folks could sense it, slumbering in their beds within the double-story, gray-paneled residence on Brightfield Court. Rain pooled around my feet, saturating the earth from countless strolls into my generic sneakers. Normally, I relished the rain. I savored the sensation of wading barefoot in puddles on the lawn and the aroma of rain mingled with pine. Yet tonight, the atmosphere was brisk, the rain crisp against my skin for an early August night in North Carolina. It was terribly inconvenient that I'd be out all night. Standing at the driveway's edge, facing the street, I felt a chilly gust pierce through my dark cloak. I fought the urge to shiver, pushing aside the cold. This was the moment, I reminded myself. If I was going to depart, the time was now. A new dwelling loomed partially constructed around the bend of Brightfield. I had explored it the day before and found the back entrance unlocked. Gripping the straps of my bulging backpack, I resolved to spend just one night away from the familiar shelter of my parents' home. I refused to meet the fate my mother seemed to fear awaited me outside. I knew that in the real world, people didn't fall victim to violence the instant they stepped outdoors. Memories of my bedroom flooded my mind: the plush green coverlet, the soft pink rug, the comforting warmth of cotton sheets, the serene melody playing from the stereo. I shook my head, brushing water from my brow. No, I had made my choice. And now, it was too late to retreat. Escaping the house under cover of darkness was challenging enough; getting caught trying to return would be disastrous. With determination, I lifted my leg and stepped onto the dimly lit pavement. My parents' abode was the most recent addition to the crescent-shaped street, nestled behind a woodland near a freshly paved highway. Only twenty residences populated the neighborhood. Across from my parents' home lay an empty parcel, primed for another dwelling but still untouched. The rest of the street boasted modest homes, crafting a tranquil community. Unfortunately, a streetlight had never been installed in front of my parents' residence. Although I knew the pavement was level, the thought of stumbling over an object or encountering a potential threat made me uneasy. I planted my other foot on the road, turned left, and began my journey. The wind swirled around me, prompting me to lower my head against it. Advancing into the deeper shadows of the street, shielded from the glow of neighboring outdoor lamps, I shivered as a breeze swept past. Despite my racing heart, I pressed onward. Every moment, I imagined my sister or parents awakening to find me absent, peering out the window in search of me. But I knew better. They likely wouldn't notice my absence until well into the afternoon. The hesitation I felt was merely the lingering echoes of my mother's warnings.

A slippery thumping noise began closing in on me. Initially faint, it resembled the rhythm of my own heartbeat. The noise approached nearer. I envisioned a lunatic sprinting barefoot toward me. Peering into the darkness, I strained to utilize the illumination emanating from the house farther up the road to discern the source. I ought to move, I reasoned. I should shift out of harm's way. Summoning the will to turn around, a gust assaulted my face, causing my eyes to water. Suddenly, a figure collided with me, knocking me backward. My backpack slipped off my shoulders as I tumbled onto the ground, landing on my rear and left arm. My hand and wrist scraped against the pavement. A weighty, damp presence loomed over me. A warm, briny breath filled my nostrils. My imagination ran wild, conjuring every imaginable threat: rapist, murderer... The impulse to scream surged through me, but my throat constricted, and only gasps escaped. I was immobilized. A slobbering tongue licked my arm, followed by a gentle, cold nose nuzzling it. Despite my racing heart, I finally drew a breath, relieved.                                                                                                                                               

I tensed up, wondering what was going on. The sound of approaching footsteps made me shift, attempting to wriggle out from beneath the dog that had plopped down on me. It seemed determined to stay put, barking and licking my arm.

"Sorry about that," the voice apologized, approaching closer. "Milo, get off her." In the dim light, I couldn't make out the person's face. I wasn't too familiar with the neighbors anyway. The voice was smooth, masculine, with an underlying strength that reassured me, despite my initial fear. "They're not all bad," I reassured myself. "People can be kind." The dog was finally pulled away, and the guy knelt beside me, gently lifting me up.

"Are you hurt?" His touch sent a shiver down my spine. It was a gesture of warmth that I wasn't accustomed to. I winced as pain shot through my scraped arm and hip.

"I'm okay," I forced out, trying to mask the discomfort.

"No, you're not," he insisted, his voice firm. "You've scraped your arm." With one arm around my waist, he helped me stand, shielding me from the wind.

"You think you can stand?" he asked, his concern evident. I felt my cheeks flush, feeling both grateful and embarrassed by his help.

"I believe so." With a gentle tug, he helped me to my feet, standing beside me amidst the swirling wind. My poncho billowed behind me like a banner as he positioned himself to shield me from its worst effects. His hands came up to cradle my face. "I'll take you to my place," he said, the light catching in his glasses as he spoke. Despite the proximity, I couldn't quite gauge his age. His stature dwarfed mine, and his muscles hinted at strength. I felt a blush rise at the memory of our brief contact. 

"Y-your house?" I murmured, surprised.            

Bending down, he hoisted my book bag onto his shoulder with some effort.  "Yea, let's escape this rain. We'll assess the situation indoors."  I wasn't sure if I should go but the pain was telling me otherwise.                                                                                                           

"I can take my bag, its heavy" I said.                                                                                                                                           

"Not a chance" He heaved it over his shoulder. With a free arm, he wrapped it around my shoulder and guided me up the street. 

I looked back "What about your dog?"                                                                                                                                       

"He'll come along," he assured me, as my heart raced with uncertainty. My hands trembled, and my knees felt weak. I attempted to quell my fears, convincing myself that this was merely an act of kindness. Yet, my mother's warnings echoed in my mind, leaving me to hope desperately that this encounter wouldn't lead to danger.