Ephemeral: An Apocalyptic Novel

Chapter 1

Dulce

Hell. The stigma is that it's underground, filled with demons and tortured souls, and everything resulting in fire. The one thing that is wrong with that statement is the first part. Truth is, hell is on the ground you walk on.

Now, who and what are the demons, the tortured souls, and everything resulting fire? I haven't figured out most of it yet. Probably means something deep and stomach sickening as you realize the reality.

This "hell" misconception is truly one of the most unknown things to mankind.

My dad said for me to reveal it to the world if it was so unknown. I told him some things were better off not said. He sighed at this. Dinner was quiet.

One day that especially defines the hell we live in is August 29th: the first day of school.

Freshman year: Tried hard to fit in.

Sophomore: Settling into the school.

Junior: Current year. Anticipating senior year.

It's like a line of dominos. You know how it's going to go (but you still think that something will happen in the middle of the motion) yet you let the dominos click together. Once it's in motion, there's no going back. You just wait for it to end in a few seconds, disappointment just filling your face.

Unless you're quite young and think dominos are amusing.

You know, I might over think things too much.

Anyway, it just so happens that flick to the dominos was tomorrow.

People would usually prepare for their first day by shopping, getting primped, and calling up friends to chat about how school is a piece of shit.

Why get primped up for a few days if you're going to be lazy the rest of the year?

I fell straight asleep, backpack ready, clothes out, and alarm set.

Fuck you Langston High.

I woke up at 4AM. School didn't officially start until 7:30 but I usually watched a movie before leaving to hell. My outfit was a black jacket, grey t-shirt, jeans, Converse, and a studded bracelet that could also be used as brass knuckles. In high school, fights were spontaneous. It was best to be prepared.

As I watched The Two Towers for the fifth time, I'd forgotten to bring my breakfast to the couch.

"Dad!" I yelled. "Can you get me my cereal please?"

A few minutes later, my mom walked in front of the screen, setting down the bowl of frosted chocolate-cinnamon flakes. It's a mouthful to say but that's all you'll have as you say it: a mouthful of cereal goodness.

"Where's Dad?"

"Maybe he left for work early."

"He doesn't do that."

"I don't exactly have a tracker on him."

"You should probably invest in one."

"Dulce," she said in a warning tone.

"Seriously. Remember when he came home with lasagna from Aunt Cher and Acid holding a box of toys from her friend when you asked him to just buy orange juice?"

"Don't call your sister Acid. And yes, I remember that quite clearly," she replied, standing up. "Remember the bus comes in an hour!"

She was about to walk away but then she turned around.

"Dulce, why don't you try putting on some makeup? You have that big box you never use."

"That big box happened when I thought it was awesome to look like a disco ball everyday."