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The Seven Swords of Cambiando: Chapter I

TYLER

I jolted upright, breathing hard.  I was having a dream.  It was one filled with crimson tinged with ebony and infused with ivory swirls of light.  I thought back, wondering what it had been about, but whatever it had been, it had faded into the depths of my mind, a part so dark that I couldn’t bring it back, reaching just without touching.  Maybe I’ll remember if I see something that reminds me later, I thought, and willed myself to turn over to see the time.  The alarm said 3:55 AM.  I can still sleep longer. 

***

I woke up to my alarm beeping.  Why is it going off?  I thought to myself, but simply hit the off button as I turned over to check the time.  It told me the time was 6:30 AM on Monday.  I stretched like a cat and slowly started to move off the bed.  Great.  School.  I forgot about that.  .  .

KATHERINE

Gotta run, gotta run. Run. Run. Run. How did I get into this? Why am I running from home?

Why am I running from the people I trust?  The ones I told all of my secrets to?  My friends and family?  This isn’t right.  I can’t believe they did this to me.  I reached up to touch one of the bruises on my face and flinched when my finger brushed it.  Why would they do that?  What had I done to deserve this?  Well, I’ll show everyone I don’t need them.  I’ll find someone else I can trust.  Someone else I can tell all of my secrets to.  I’ll find new friends and family.  But for now, I just have to keep running. 

Great.  I need a bathroom.  I forgot about that.  .  .

TYLER

After I got dressed in the school’s black uniform, I walked to the kitchen.  Standing there was Master Malanchi, one of the few people who care for me enough to put up with the burden of living with me.  For that, I was thankful.

Sitting at the tiny table, his big, scarred hands hold a small cup of coffee.  His long, black hair was tied back in a low ponytail and his brown eyes screamed exhaustion.  When he saw me, he said, “Are you still—”

“Yea, I’m still having those weird dreams,” I replied, not even bothering to listen to the question.  He asked the same thing every morning, like it was that important. 

“Hmm,” was his only response.  It was like we rehearsed this, him asking me a question and me responding the same way every single day.  But this time I noticed there was something a little off about his tone. 

I grabbed a gallon of milk and a box of cereal, not bothering to check the label, and poured some out into a chipped bowl.

There was a knock on the door and I asked, “Is it the first already?”

“Unfortunately,” Master Malanchi responded glumly. 

“We have enough, right?”

“Hardly, but we do,” he replied. 

I took the envelope from the table and walked the short distance to the door, counting the money inside.  Five hundred dollars was the total.  I took a deep breath before unlocking the door, but, before I could open it, the short man whose patience could be compared to his size, threw the door back and immediately asked, “Where is it?”

I handed him the envelope and watched as he recounted it, then examined a few of the bills to make sure they were real before slamming the door in my face with a muttered, “Good boy,” like I was a dog.