A Series of Stories

Camden's Story

So this is a story that I started writing and never actually finished. I lost interest in the idea. But... I thought I'd share it anyways, since others might actually like it. Enjoy :)

What if I said that everything you thought was myth was actually true?

Warlocks, faeries, witches, were-people... All of it. They roam the streets, looking like normal human beings, snatching kids from their homes or playing tricks on the locals, sometimes just living normal human lives and keeping to themselves.

My name is Camden Winterfell, and my life was completely turned around only a couple weeks ago.

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It was a normal day, peaceful. My mother and I were sitting at the dinner table, eating our bowls of potato soup. Snow had covered the entire street the night before, so school had been cancelled. Kids were screaming and laughing outside, probably having snowball fights or making snow angels.

"Camden, stop playing with your food and eat something," my mother scolded. Her bright, golden eyes were pinned on my face. She was probably judging me, for whatever reason.

I had been staring out the window, a dazed look on my face as I swirled my spoon in my bowl. My mother's voice jerked me out of my daydreams and I looked at the older woman. "Sorry, mother. I was just thinking about something," I spoke softly, lifting my spoon to my mouth and eating some of my grandmother's famous potato soup.

"You must stop with your dreaded daydreams," my mother spoke, taking a sip of some of her wine. "Focus on schoolwork and getting a job."

I rolled my eyes, running a hand through my long, curly dark hair. "I do fine in my classes, mother. My grades are perfectly average." I waved my hand in dismissal. "And I don't have the time for a job. I'm already busy with art club and writing club. And not to mention volunteering at the library every weekend."

I wasn't a very social child. I was a junior in high school and I only had maybe... Two or three friends, and they didn't go to my school. They were the librarians at the library I volunteered at. But that's not the point of this story.

My mother seemed more tense than usual, her eyes seeming to bulge from her sockets and her lips pursed. Wrinkles seemed to be appearing across her more-or-less young face, grey hairs in her fire-red curls.

"Are you okay, mother? You don't look too good today." I tilted my head, a worried look in my green and grey eyes.

"I am fine, my angel. Just tired..." My mother then stood up, brushing a hand through her hair and pulling a few strands out from her braid. "I am going to head to bed now. Would you please clean up?" The woman turned around and went to the living room and up the stairs. "And don't forget to do your homework!" I heard a door close after that, my mother now in her room.

I let loose a breath I hadn't known I'd been holding as I stood up, picking up the bowls from the table. I quickly washed the bowls, drying and putting them back up in the cupboards.

I looked out the window above the sink, sighing softly as I brushed a strand of hair behind my ear. I closed my eyes, images of angels and faeries and other mythical creatures flashed in the darkness. This happened every time I closed my eyes. I used to think it happened to everyone before I told my mom about it. She had freaked out and told me to ignore them, that they weren't real. I believed her.

I shook my head, opening my eyes and looking out at the snow covered landscape. "I hate the snow..." I muttered, frowning slightly at the kids still  running around in the frozen snow.