Since my mother wasn't home, I decided to take a long slumber on our soft fabric, burgundy couch in the living room. I snuggled into a fluffy baby blue comforter and a large, squishy body pillow. Now, you'd think I'd fall asleep right away. But that isn't exactly..... easy.
You see, with my powers, you can see some uncunning phantoms staring at you when you sleep, setting traps around the house to scare the shit out of me, and drawing crude images on my face with black magic marker. Today, I decided, I've had enough of it.
So, as I nestled into the covers, I "slept" soundly. I saw a teenage boy appear in front of my face with a marker in his hand. Two other female apparitions floated next to him.
"This is gonna be good," said the male.
The girls giggled and flipped their hair. As soon as he reached out with the marker, right when he was about to hit my nose, I flailed my legs and arms, screamed loudly, and moved my body up and down, making the covers fall off of me.
The phantoms didn't have time to react. They disappeared so quickly in a haze, the marker was left spinning in the air.
I heard an obnoxious laughter at my side, and saw Brandt perched on the coffee table. I hoisted up and scrambled towards him, grabbing his head and giving him a compassionate noogie.
"Carlyle, what are you doing, sweetie?" Drifted a soft, feminine voice.
I whipped my head up in horror, and immediately let go of Brandt's head. I glanced at my mothers slim, downtrodden face.
I straightened myself and cleared my throat, "N-Nothing mom, I just dropped some books."
She eyed me suspiciously, obviously not buying my fib. Her gaze drifted to the air beside me, where Brandt was floating. Her eyes didn't falter, and her lip twitched. Brandt just stood there like a concrete wall, shuddering under his mothers beloved face he so much did love.
Out of nowhere, she reached out and pawed at the air, sailing straight through Brandt's sad, expressionless face.
"Sometimes," she explained, "I feel like your..... brother," she breathed slowly,
"Is still with us, with you." She dropped her hand timely with a sigh.
Poised to leave, my mother slowly trodded into her room, leaving behind a depressed feel to the atmosphere.
I let my eyes wander to Brandt, who had tears streaming down his pinched, red face. He wilted, wiped his nose with his sleeve, and dispersed into the floorboards.
I stood there, fazed by what I had just witnessed before me. I snapped out of it somewhile later, my foot cramps awaking me. I gripped my book stack, and continued walking to my bedroom, my feet like bags of bricks. Why couldn't it have to be me?
YOU ARE READING
Whispers Of The Damned
ParanormalCarlyle Redson is the all around average-American teen. Average height, average weight, average IQ. High school was a breeze for him, with baseball, a social life, and girls, you'd think his life was a little too average. But, with some average stuf...