Chapter 1
Smoke was everywhere. It made the air grey and its thick scent clung to
the back of my mouth. I coughed as I looked around the carnage before me.
Bodies, mutilated and twisted, and every kind of human littered the
ground. Splashes and pools of thick, black blood coated the inhuman forms
and made my stomach turn. My ears pricked as a name was called. I spun
around, as a figure stumbled through the haze of smoke toward me. I could
almost see his face...And then that's when I woke up.
Damn it all. My alarm clock blaring some old tune screamed annoyingly
loud in my ear. I slapped my hand down on the clock cutting it off and
accidentally knocking it off the dresser in the process. I sighed and
collapsed back onto the bed. The softness of the pillow and sheets tried
to lure me back into dreamland, but I fought the temptation. And it was a
hard temptation to fight.
Okay, I was officially losing my mind. This was the eighth time that I’ve had the
same dream within the last two weeks. The images of the dream run through
my mind on a loop, the blood, the bodies everywhere, making me shudder.
Sighing, I ran my hand through my hair. Maybe I should stop watching so
much Sci-Fi channel before bed. All that Stargate had to be doing some
kind of irreversible psychological damage. Suddenly, the alarm clock
turned back on, louder than before. What the fork!
"You bastard," I muttered, glaring and diving from the bed intending to
take out this piece of shit with extreme prejudice.
Fifteen minutes later, I was in the bathroom looking at my reflection in
the mirror. My skin was tanned thanks to spending the past few weeks
getting in a soccer game with some friends. My blue eyes were a bright
blue that people often commented on. I personally would rather have brown
eyes, but that was just me. Yawning, I ran some hair goop through my
blond hair and brushed it forward with only my bangs spiking up in front.
I have worn the same hairstyle since the eighth grade. In the past two
years, I have upgraded in allowance, car, and curfew, but not my hair, my
hair was unchangeable. Why change what works is my opinion.
I put on a red polo and some faded blue jeans. White Nike's with red
swishes complimented my shirt. Grabbing my backpack, I bounded the
stairs two at a time. I threw my bag near the front door and walked into
the kitchen. The windows were open throwing golden oblongs of sunshine on
the tiled floor. Still yawning I went to the fridge and opened it up,
grabbing the milk and snatching a box of cereal from the countertop, I
plopped down at the kitchen table.
