monachopsi

one

Out of place. Ill at ease. Without a sense of belonging. Whatever you wish to call it, that is what I am, the outcast, the quiet boy with paint-splattered, calloused hands that sits in the back of the classroom and actually pays attention, the unusual boy who enjoys reading and cats more than interacting with those of his own species, the surprisingly eloquent boy who prefers written communication to spoken. I am a gentle spirit, my true nature hidden beneath layers of paint and fancy words and the smell of coffee in the morning.

Yet, adventure. It calls to me with its taunting, barely audible whispers, whispers that creep into my dreams and journal entries and paintings and hide within the words and brushstrokes. It is more than the want to escape into a different world, the vellichor one experiences in a library, and though these are wistful and relatively enjoyable things, I want to do it myself. I want to defeat the dragons of self-doubt and immorality, to do something to upend the evil that resides in this world. 

 I pondered this as I walk, the snow beginning to fall and the wind picking up its biting chill as I board the bus and pay my fare. I take a seat, the one nearest to the window in a row by myself, by myself, that is, until a girl walked in, eyed the almost-full seats, and then those gold-green eyes of hers caught mine and flicked to the empty seat beside me. She paid her fare and walked down the aisle in a striding, graceful gait before sitting down beside me. A large paperback book was the only thing she was holding, the cover well-worn and the pages yellowed. After a small nod of acknowledgement, she flipped open the book and started where she must have left off, or perhaps she skipped the first three hundred pages and began in the middle. She didn't seem to be the beginning-skipper type of person, though. 

I watched as she read, her damp curls falling down her back in a tumble, her eyes flicking across the page. She wore no makeup, something that was rare these days, and I noticed somewhere in the back of my mind that the tips of her eyelashes were blonde. I noticed small, insignificant details like that, and most of the time they were useless. 

This all appeared to be a normal scene, just a beautiful girl reading next to a quiet, observant guy, sharing the two-person bus seat that smelled slightly of molding stuffing. And it was, at first, with me staring out the window and sneaking glances at the girl beside me, but then suddenly the girl snapped her book closed and startled about ten people in our general vicinity. She looked at me with a cat-like grin on her face. 

"I noticed you staring," she whispered, arching an eyebrow at me. 

"I...I wasn't-" I began, trying, in vain, to deny it. "It's just not often that you find a girl on the bus who actually reads," I said softly, staring down at the worn black Converse on my feet. I could feel her eyes on me. 

"And it's not often that you find a boy who is...artistic. Creative. Who blends in but stands out in a crowd." she said, smirking. "People like us are rare. Different." 

"I...yeah, I guess we are," I muttered, my words nothing compared to the composed elegance of hers.
Now, you're probably thinking that a brief exchange of words between two nerdy strangers that are now slightly-less-than-strangers is perfectly normal, and you would be correct, because it was the next thing that she said that I found... out of the ordinary. At least, more out of the ordinary than normal.

"Different is often dangerous," she purred, her hand brushing my bicep. "Will you come with me? I want to show you something." Something dark stole across her eyes so quickly that I wondered if I had imagined it, and then those eyes of hers grew large and innocent and all the green faded away into a bright gold, and suddenly the only thing I wanted to do was follow her, do her bidding.

This is weird, I thought once I looked away, but that lingering feeling of warmth and trusting was still there. I got up after she did and, spurred mostly by curiosity (at least, that's what I told myself), followed her, stepping off the bus and nearly slipping on the icy sidewalk.

Night had fallen at an alarming rate, the sky's color deepened to a rich, inky black, and the snow had ceased its fall. Without the dampness and the wind, the weather was enjoyable.

"Beautiful night, it is," the girl said, that mysterious smile back on her face. Casually, almost too casually, she ducked into the shadow of an alleyway, glancing over her shoulder to ensure that I was right behind her, as if I would pass up the chance to have some adventure, some unexpected break in the routine that is my life.

There was a door, a rusted silver one with sturdy looking hinges, one upon which the girl traced a pattern with her finger in a twisting complex pattern, rubbing the grime away. Suddenly, the mark on the door glowed a faint purple, faded, and the door swung open. I hesitated as I watched her step inside, looking as if this was the most normal thing in the world.

"Ya' coming?" she asked. I barely caught the words as she stepped into the dimly light room, which was practically pulsing with energy. I could feel it in my bones, the way it resonated within my very marrow. Slowly, I slid inside, my shoulders hunched. The room was large, perhaps eighty feet square, and crowded with people, all dancing, bodies swaying and arms waving to some unheard rhythm. It was strange, how they were all in sync.

The girl spotted my confusion and smiled knowingly. "It's hard your first time. Listen," she whispered.

"I am," I muttered, frustrated.

"No, you're not," she snapped, and all at once every emotion collided with me and I could hear it. The music was beautiful, but strange, otherworldly. I felt a sense of déjà vu, as if I had heard it before, even though I was certain I hadn't.

"There. You hear it now," she said, the sentence a statement, not a question. I nodded, my eyes damp, and found that I was crying. "You feel like you belong, for once, don't you?" she whispered. I nodded again, and it was true. I felt like everything had fallen into place at that exact second, but I also sensed that something was going to change, but before I could place what it was, I jolted awake, looking around wildly. I was alone in bus seat, the girl nowhere to be seen, on my way home from my job at the library. 

So normalcy would remain for now, it seemed, and my case of not belonging would persist, as well. But not for long, not if I had anything to do with it.