One of a Kind

Chapter 3

          Her most memorable day at the pond was when her mother found her there. She was sitting on the ground. Running her fingers over the surface of the cool water. The day was warm and she. . .

          “Hello?” The word shatters my reverie and sends me hurtling back into reality. What a drag.

          “Hello?” A tall dark skinned man asked. He looks young, about in his early twenties. He is a little chubby, but has a strong frame that shouts ‘power’. His eyes are chocolate brown. His face is long and thin, but soft with kindness. The dark chocolate hair - that matches his eyes perfectly - lays in a toppled mess on his head.

          “Hey.” I greet.

         “What’s your name?” I freeze; his question taking me by surprise. No one can know who I was.

         “Well. . .” he prompts. I quickly scan my mind for something. Who was I? Now.

          “Kathryn,” I blurted. “Kathryn Bay.” Yeah, that sounds believable. ‘Kathryn Bay’: I repeat in my head. That’s who I am.

          “Nice to meet you Kathryn, I’m James the 4th.” He holds out his hand. I hesitate, then grab James’s hand and shake it.

          “Could you tell me where I am?” I ask boldly, not sure where my confidence is coming from. (I’m not exactly sure if you know this, but when you’ve been ignored your whole life you don’t have any social skills.)

          “Sure. You’re in. . .” James is cut off by someone’s earsplitting scream. James’s eyes widen with fear. His face starts to cripple in pain; as if he had just lost someone dear to him, but then twists into a maniacal smile. That’s odd. . ., I think.

          The town’s people are scattering. The streets are whirling with frantic people. It’s chaos! Everyone’s shoving their way through the squirming bodies. Some are running. Some are even crying. “I have to go!” James’s voice shouts over the commotion. For some reason his tone doesn’t express the fear everyone else’s are. That is odd.  I think. James turns and begins sprinting.

          “Wait!” My voice screeches two octaves higher than usual. James twists slightly – unwillingly - towards me. “What’s going on?”

          James’s face turns cold at my question. For a moment he didn’t move; didn’t breathe. He just stands motionless in the middle of the street, despite the craziness around us. “It. . .it’s coming,” he chuckles. What is with this man? I think.

          “What?” I question, “What’s coming?” Just then I hear this low gnarling, gurgling sound. I search behind me; nothing. I turn back to face James; he’s gone. The streets are empty. Everything around me is still; quiet, and I’m alone.

          Helpless. Deserted.