When I Fell...

Chapter 9: Dark Art

Aspen's P.O.V

"Sketch what's in your mind, be creative." I remember Mr.Tablea saying as we all started to draw what was on our minds at that very moment.

Bad move.

My mind is like the deep dark abyss in that one Spongebob episode, don't ask me why I relate my annoying, and creepy thing that won't get out of my thick skull to that one weird show.

My pencil danced across the paper drawing all sorts of terrifying, mental demons that raided my mind 24/7. My muscles working on their own, free of the chains I keep them in. I felt a set of eyes, piercing into my forehead. I quickly glance up, and found that those sets of eyes belonged to none other than Colton. Not letting myself look any longer, I stared back at my page. One thing stood out. Horrifying black eyes, blood flowing from the corners in a fast pace. My eyes widened at the thought of anyone seeing this picture. Taking a quick survey of any wondering gazes. To find that no one was looking my way was relieving. I crumbled up the small page, as quietly as I could and stuffed it into my bag.

Even when I'm not aware, my thoughts always drift to the unexplainable, petrifying, black orbs. I can handle the none existent emotions, the deadly thoughts, but the eyes will be the death of me. Seeing myself in the mirror, actually afraid of what I'm capable of. Not having a clue about what's going to happen next. People always say, that you never know what's going to happen next. But, it's different for me, literally not knowing. Humans always have an idea, a plan. I don't. Things could change in a blink of an eye, at the times when you most expect them not to. I am winging my life, literally. If I plan, all I'm doing is building my hopes. For a decent way of living, but deep inside I know that's impossible.

The bell rung saving me from tormenting myself any longer. I walked along the path to the courtyard, ready to spend my free period alone in my thoughts. I sit at the stone bench that I find my escape from everyday life. The water flowing easily out of the mossy fountain that stand tall in front of me. The shade of the tree slightly moving with the breeze. The sounds of nature surrounding me keeping me from entering my thoughts fully. My eyes flutter shut as I take a deep breath of the clean oxygen, filling my lungs with the air of purity. I release the breath through my mouth, my lungs screaming to continue with the breathing. And I do. For the rest of my spare, I sit there relishing in the peace of both mental and physical stability.

My hands unconsciously reach for the faint scar that rests beneath my jaw line. I feel the slight crevasse as it dips into a nice clean closed cut. I remember vividly of the day this scar was made.

It was January 16, 1871.

I was walking through the forest, lost, not knowing which way to go in this world. After about 146 years, I was still aimlessly wandering around. Alone in my own pit of misery. Wallowing in my own pain. Alone. Desperately, and unconditionally alone. My midnight black wings spread in all their glory. My lifeless black eyes staring down at the ground where my bare feet trudge slowly along the path of pure agony.

In a sudden flash, there was a blade pressed against the bottom of my jaw line. Adrenaline pouring into my major arteries, spreading throughout my body. I grabbed the blade and twisted, successfully breaking my attackers arm. The attacker screamed out in pain while I turned to face him. My hand dripping blood from where I grabbed the sharp sword.

The man gripped his arm, looking at me in horror. Obviously not expecting that to happen. The man looked to be in his late twenties, but I didn't rely on his looks because I looked 18. But, I didn't know how old I was anymore. He had dark brown hair, bright brown eyes that seemed to sparkle and a slight stubble across his chin. But one thing stood out, his wings. Wide spread white wings, his wings slightly smaller than mine.

I felt blood drip done from my jaw, where this mysteries man cut me with his newly smelted blade. I turned on my heel, leaving the man behind. Not caring what he thought about what just happened.

Because I didn't care. About anything.