Hi thanks for reading!!...English is not my first language and im human so sorry for spelling or grammar mistakes! ALso check out my first short story The Burning Bracelet.
If you like it you know what to do!
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My own screams were deafening my ears. They hurt, but I couldn’t help it. I had just seen someone ruining his life and felt terribly powerless.
It might be difficult to understand, but I have been having these weird dreams where I can see this friend of mine that moved to Argentina last year. Her name is Kathy, and her long black hair reaches her wrist whenever it’s not tied up in a high, neat, ponytail. Her hair is rarely unleashed anyway. Her brown eyes are not big themselves, but they do look huge when you look at them balancing in her face between her thin black eyebrows and her small pointed nose. Her mouth is relatively normal, and is never uncovered by lip-gloss.
You must be asking why dreaming about someone is such a big deal, but believe it or not, it is. I am an only child and have always been spoiled by my parents. Though I’m not proud to admit it, they have always given me what I wanted. Everything but one little thing, the one thing I wanted the most, talking to Mark Willner. He was a two year older boy, who was accused of different crimes; such as braking into houses, destroying public spaces, and it was rumored he was responsible for his sister’s death. She was not really her sister, I mean blood sister, but they have been raised as brothers and were very close (anyway it was rumored Mark was jealous of her, but I’ve never heard a reasonable reason for it, although it was not something I had reliable information about). Mark was driving the car when both of them suffered an accident, but some people still believe it shouldn’t be called specifically an “accident”. Every time I saw him I felt the need of talking to him. I always caught him staring at me with this weird look in his face, as if he was trying to tell me something or worse, asking me about something. “What could someone like Mark want me to know? What could I know that he wanted to know that desperately? Why me?” I was sure those questions would never be answered. Not if I kept following the rules, but I had made a decisionm, and that is what I wanted to keep doing.
Every time I asked my friend about Mark she answered the same “Don’t know much about him” and would look at nothing, while barely opening her mouth, to then close it again. One day I discovered she knew something I didn’t, but when I asked, all I could get was just the following words: “One promise, a promise. One word, a word. One action, an action. One secret, a slave.” In that same order those words became ordinary to me, and I had never gotten more than that out of her mouth. Not even when she left, and that drove me crazy. “What could Kathy knew about mark that made her a slave? Could it also turn me into one?” Those were more unsolved questions that would never meet an answer.
These dreams I talked about had all the same characteristics. I had been having them for months. I always saw my friend Kathy holding a clock with an immutable expression on her face. The weird thing is that the clock looked always the same but was different. Sometimes it measured years, sometimes months, sometimes hours, but then back to months. It kept changing, following no order. Whatever the measure was, the needles where always moving to the left. I kept on thinking on it as a clock, but i had figured out it was a timer. I freaked out the first weeks, but afterwards I got used to it. I never talked to Kathy about it. I was no longer paying attention to it, until that day, when something horrible happened.
I was eating at school, revising my math’s exercises when Mark Willner appeared and sat in front of me. He gazed at me and after four seconds that felt like year’s he pronnounced four words.
