Once in a New Moon

Chapter 1

I did not know I was being watched.

Not when the antique grandfather clock exploded, nor when the knife tried to gut me, not even when a peice of rope tried to garrote me.

But now I know.

The clock has tolled and the dice was thrown. The question changed it is not 'what is happening' but rather who and why is causing this'.

That I do not know.

Why? Why? That question haunts me even in my sleep. Why is this happening? I do not know.

But this is what I do know, I am watched.

To answer 'who' I would have to continue my journey, to answer 'why' I would have to journey  farther, but I could tell you what just happened in my story.

Hmm, where to start? Oh yes.

The fork grew hot in my hand. Slowly, painfully. The claws arched, twisted, and the for...

Wait, second thought, let us start here   

                                                                         *               *              * 

                Red bleary eyes. Grey tinted vision. Increasing blood pressure. Short bursts of headaches. Migraines. Stress.

                I hate algebra.

                The letters didn’t make sense, my mind swimming in and out of consciousness, my eyes, stinging like acid. Nothing made any solid meaning now. And I found something worse than algebra.

                I hate calculus

                Stupid equations. Stupid principal Nettles, last I heard, torture wasn’t aloud, not legal.

                ‘Focus Levi, focus, you studied this last night. Calculus and algebra was a piece of cake, what do you remember?’ I thought to myself. I swallowed a lump in my throat, trigonometry was supposed to be the lesson next week.

                I hate trig.

                Math was my world. Or at least it had been. I learned quadratic equations when I was nine! Until stupid principal Nettles came and made trigonometry and calculus for sixteen year olds. College level calculus mind you.

                The whole world seemed to spin. ‘Seriously Levi, dizziness?’

                I wobbled on my knees, then I managed to get up from my seat, get my bag, and slowly walk to Mr. Greene, then I passed my paper that was filled with pencil smudges.

                I didn’t even glance at him when I went out of the room.

                 I walked slowly, carefully listening for any students or teachers. Then I broke a rule, Mrs. Rolanda Wassabi always reminded us about it, like yesterday when Rufus bumped into her, “Nuuw ruwnin’ een dee kuuuriidudurs.” That, is ‘no running in the corridors’, with the finest touch of Jamaican accent from an English teacher.

                 I ran at full speed for the first five seconds, then slowed my pace down into a steady jog. Heavy  luggage, hmm . . . something else, hmm? Oh yes, what the heck, vertigo! I had to swallow back the vomit. Painful, gross, sour.

                I ran again non-stop this time, until I reached the school bus, making stealthy, silent and muffled poundings on the cold mossy pavement. Normally, I just asked Sam to get the engine running, but now Sam wasn’t here. Mourning.

                Jeez that word brought shivers down my spine, dead. Jeez was it cold. Mornin’ freezing off your legs, body heat just managing to thaw the ice.

                I’d have to tip off another engineer, but with what? I rummage through my backpack but come up with nothing.

                Last option, run, run like how you always did, like a coward. I often infuriate myself with this line and so I start running before the tears can melt me down. Then as I run it’s just like the tears really are melting me, burning me. That fire starts where I least expect it, my heart.

                My heart, which is only capable of making me a few friends. The fire creeps now, slowly making its way up my throat. My face is pale, covered in a sheen of sweat. My breathing slows, slowly receding, the fire numbing, and I fall shoulder first into the hard, cold and mossy pavement.

                This is everything that comes out of a dream first. Find yourself swirling through shades of blackness and violet, not knowing where you are but that it is not home.