Turning

PROLOGUE: BROKEN BUTTERFLIES

The leaves fluttered aimlessly, like broken butterflies with no solemn purpose in life. They crinkled in the dying wind; golden sunsets and auburn clusters. Nothing could be more beautiful, nothing could be more worse!  

This is how it started out, maybe this is how it will end too but the thing is - who can tell. These thoughts drift lightly towards my already jam - packed head.

"Hm," I mutter aloud to no-one in particular but myself, " why do I feel like this? So...so damn unreal, like I'm not meant to be!"

"Well that's because its not real" a voice slurs from behind the deeply engraved park bench that I happened to be sat at, "and you, my friend, know it!"

"I beg your pardon!"

"Life.....its not real. Surely you of all people know that?"

"Um, I'm sorry but I really don't have a clue what you are on about?" turning my body around to face him directly, surprised at the youth and handsomeness of his face. The corners of his lips tilted slightly, gesturing his amusement.

"You know...you really do!" his eyes began to flash brightly, an orange hue spreading warmth towards his full pupils.

"B-but..." I stutter, freaking out at this strange handsome guy that just happens to be talking to me.

"Well surely Willow, you know that your not actually alive"

"I'm what?"

"Dead!"  

My mouth mimed that of a goldfish; I feel my cheeks burning up even though the darkness engulfs my petrified complexion. When was I dead? I mean this guy may sure be hot, but there is no possible way that me, Willow Jay, could be, well, dead!

"Who are you?" my voice shrinks to a barely audible whisper; backing away as though he was some sort of deadly poison. The words glided gently around me, like clouds of visible gas; repeating over and over again.

Suddenly a grip as firm as the jaws of a lion wrap around my arm; pale fingers clasping. I look up into eyes; blood red roses bringing a shiver of coldness that ran like water down my spine.  

"Your dead honey, and there is nothing that you can do about it!" A silent scream escaped my mouth as the deserted park became a blur. Pains sliced through my neck - my pulse racing. What's happening to me? Darkness threatened to enclose my sight.

All was still, all was silent. Broken butterflies flew harmlessly by, but the thirsty eyes of the stranger lay rampaged into my mind. "Your DEAD!" came the solemn scream from his bloodied lips, as a steady drip became a pool of liquid on the absent floor.

I awoke.

A bang sounded to my left as i sat there, in my striped duvet, sweating like a pig. I could feel it oozing out of my pores and dripping down my skin, creating a coating of sticky sweat all over my face - not a nice look! My mind raced, collecting the images of my dream, blurring into a hypnotic focus that I was willing to break out from.

"WILLOW! What are your doing up there?" the emphasise on the ARE told me that I had probably just made a blood - curdling screech, and that the neighbours would be round soon to ask whether someone had just died! Sighing I shoved myself upright onto my pillow, just in time to see Hayleigh peering around my door; her face plastered with a grin. I tried to speak, tell her to go away and stop looking so smug, but my words came out in an incoherent babble, which merely made her giggle annoyingly as she trotted out of the room.

I sighed, slumping lazily, my eyes searching my tidied room. Well, I wouldnt say tidy! Yesturdays dirty clothes lay in a heap on the floor, a complex pattern of blue's and greens. A grey bra lay tangled by my bed side, longing to be lifted into its rightful place in my top draw. No chance mate, I think to myself as I slip out of the comfort of my snug bed, which, only a few hours ago, held me in a trance of complete morbid terror. "Well, time to get to work."

"Willow, it's for you!" the clear shrill ring of my mothers voice bounces its way to my ears as I look into my bedroom mirror.

"OK, will be down in a minute" I shout, brushing a stray piece of hair away from my face. Ugh. I look a mess; dishevelled but fair honey blond curls strangely lighter, eyes sparkling like newly lit candles instead of a wind swept desolate landscape, skin a smooth pale smoulder in the wakening sun. "Who the hell would be up at this time in the morning on a Saturday, to talk to me?" I say to the perplexed 16 year old, who's pale cerise lips glisten as they mouth the exact words I speak, who's eyes drift slowly into a sleepy daze.

I contemplate my reflection for a moment, taking in the fine details that seem strangely familiar but at the same time mysteriously new.

Thumping down the stairs, two at a time, I head for the delectable smell that was seeping through all the little hidden nooks and crannies that lay, embedded in the walls. I peep my head around the door to see my mother pointing her newly manicured finger towards the hallway. She murmur's something that sounds like "He's out there" but I couldn't really tell. So with that in mind I hurry, well truly speaking slowly trudge, to the neglected burgundy door. With a slow click I withdraw the lock from its rightful metal holding. The shiny bulbous doorknob took my hand invitingly, as the door cleanly swept towards me. A man, about 6ft 2 in height, stared down towards my 5ft 8 self. He looked oddly familiar. "Hey, its Willow right?"

"Yes, but how do you know my name?"

"Well, I can explain that but not now, we have to hurry."

"Hurry?"

"Yes! Pack all the essentials you need but we need to go, and I mean it, otherwise you'll be in very grave danger," and then I realised where I had seen him before. He was the good-looking guy in my dream last night; the one that told me I was dead...