Midnight Unbound

Part One

Midnight Unbound
Golden rays of silky sunlight cover all the land. As far as the eye could see as if the heavens were giving their blessing to the earth. I, the ruler of this realm, host a ball and a glorious one at that. With magic gifted to me by the sun, the festivities of this peaceful kingdom begin. Warm light flows through my fingertips engulfing the entire ballroom in warmth, sending joy through all the guest's heart. I find myself looking for someone in the crowds and dancers. Where could he be? My thoughts racing and spacing out almost simultaneously as I scan the room. Then as if my thoughts had been announced to all, I catch a glimpse of whom I seek. Excitement bursting in my heart I rise from my seat and try to make my way through to him.
A seemingly endless stretch of the floor and an infinite number of people between us, the closer I get the farther he is away. Finally making my way through, I'm within arms reach. Suddenly just before I can reach the man I've been wanting to see all night. A loud pounding can be heard. Echoing throughout the ballroom. The edges of my vision fading to black and the image begins to blur and the pounding gets louder I can hear my name being called over and over. I know that voice, but I can't recall who it belongs to...
"Miss Janes? Miss Janes?  Would you care to rejoin the class or would you rather take an F for the day?” Ah, Mr. Harold, my history teacher. What a relief, I actually thought my life wasn't pathetic and boring for those few precious moments. Whoop-di-do. Well now that my "too good to be true" dream was so rudely interrupted, guess I'll try and stay awake while he rambles on about dead people making terrible decisions. This has got to be my least favorite subject. I still don't understand why we have to take this class practically every year. The only guess that I happen to like is the "history repeats itself" theory.
Let's face it though we never really learn, we just find a more advanced way to make the same mistakes. I guess that's the pessimism I got from my father talking.  At least it's only two more classes before I can go home and sleep this day off and maybe get to the good part of that dream. Then after what seemed like an eternity, those two final hours were over and I was about to get to my favorite part of the day; the walk home was peaceful.  today would be no different. Straight from the classroom, to my locker, and on my way. No words, no sounds, no eye contact. Head down and keep walking, faces of kids I haven't been around long enough to care about. Nor do I want to get to that point. Closed minded, and on a fast train going nowhere. I will not be stuck in this hick town forever just popping out kids and wait to die. If my dreams are the only adventure I get in this sad life, I'd rather meet my maker (If the bastard even exists.) Again, the pessimism talking. My mom always said I was too much like my dad.
      Weird how we learn more from nurture than nature. Adoption is never easy they say. That's usually if it's through the system though. My biological mother tried to raise me and my sisters. that didn't go so well. four husbands and now four divorces you think she would've learned something. after her last divorce, she tried to take care of the three of us by herself. You can guess how well that went. Guess she cracked under the pressure because barely two months after I was on the doorstep of my 25-year-old step sister (daughter or the last husband).