stepped up onto the ledge for what I had hoped would be the final time. No more hurt, no more pain—it must be nice. I reassured myself that this was the right and only possible decision. And all I have to do is jump. I had one foot on the ledge and I put one foot out in front, nothing keeping it safe, except my socks and my chucks. I closed my eyes and prepared to leap. Just as I started to lift my foot off the solid ground…
Whap!
Something hurled me into the wall near the staircase and knocked the wind out of me. I sat slightly concussed on the ground. I wasn’t sure if what was happening was another hallucination or it was real. I saw a tall and rather muscular gentleman. He looked very composed and calm. His dark locks were gelled back very neatly; and he wore a black leather trench coat. I saw him grab a sword from the sheath he had on his back. His sword resembled Siegfried from Soul Caliber V’s sword, Caladbolg. It was a very sizeable broadsword that definitely needed to be wielded with two hands and great strength; but this man moved it as if it were made of Styrofoam, and with ease.
The stranger walked towards me. I grew more and more puzzled with each movement. The man brought up his sword with the blade pointed in my direction. He held the handle of the sword with both hands. He raised the sword up and plunged it down quickly into my chest. My body let out two different screams. “Ah!” I felt no physical pain, but my chest burned like it was on fire. My body thrust upward, and all of my energy began to leave me. I couldn’t keep my eyes open any longer; and then slowly, they started to close. The last thing I remember seeing was a dark, smoky figure rise from my body.
CHAPTER TWO
My eyes flickered, for what felt like a very long time, open and close, open and close. Eventually, they stayed open and I made the decision to wake up. I felt a rhythmic, pulsating, and pounding sensation in my head.
Holy crap, I had the strangest dream, I thought, unsure if I should be relieved or totally freaked out. I put my hands on my head, as if I were trying to contain the pounding that was in my head.
“Jeez, what time is it?” I asked rhetorically. I looked over at my alarm clock and saw that it was about 3:28 in the morning. I let out a groan. I tried for about an hour to go back to sleep. I fell asleep until five. I gave up on the idea of sleeping, pulled out my Gameboy, and restarted my Pokémon yellow game. I played and even won a few badges in the span of an hour and a half. I was just about to battle Lieutenant Surge for my third badge when I heard the buzzing of my alarm clock. Better get ready, I sarcastically thought to myself.
I showered, got dressed, brushed my teeth, and then went downstairs. I saw my mom and Stan already in the kitchen. Stan had his mug of coffee in one hand and his phone in the other, probably looking at the local news. Mom was at the counter making me and my little sister’s lunches for school. Gracie was eating her favorite cereal at the dining room table. As I walked down the stairs, both parents looked up at me.
“Hey bud, when did you get in last night?” Stan asked. “We didn’t even hear you come in.”
“I don’t remember.” I didn’t even recall walking home or getting into my bed. How did I get home?
“How did guitar lessons go?” my mom asked.
“Good. I learned more chords and a new scale.”
“Very cool,” she said excitedly. “Soon you’ll be rocking out and getting all the ladies.”
I rolled my eyes and headed to the fridge. I opened it up and grabbed the carton of orange juice. There was only a quarter of it left, and I started to drink out of it.
My mom heard the gulping sounds and turned around to scold me. “Owen, don’t drink from the carton. Grab a glass.”
“But there’s not much left.”
“I don’t care. You shouldn’t do that anyways.”
I started to drink more out of it while slowly backing away from her.
She gave me a dirty look. “Owen, put that down.”
“Uh-uh,” I said, with a mouth full of orange juice.
She grabbed a spatula from a jar on the kitchen counter and waved it at me. “Do I need to pat you on the butt like you’re five?”
Gracie looked over and laughed with food still in her mouth. I raised my hands and surrendered with the carton in one hand, bottle cap in the other. I looked at the jug and determined that I could finish this in one more gulp. So I quickly downed the rest of it before she could say anything.
“Ah.” I let out a sigh of accomplishment. I screwed the lid back on and tossed it at my mom. She caught it and looked at me with a smile and shook her head. “Hey Mom, we’re out of orange juice,” I said, walking toward her. I danced around her, grabbed my lunch, and started out the door. “Bye!” I shouted, heading out the door.
I heard everyone else yell back, “Bye! Have a good day!” I closed the door and made my way down the street to the bus stop. It was a day, just like any other. I found my seat on the bus and quickly disengaged from reality. I put in my headphones and entered into “All That Remains,” quickly attracted by the melodic, yet hard sounds of the guitar instrumental and the driving beat of the drums. God, I enjoyed it so much! It was all so nice, just looking out the window, thinking about absolutely nothing and watching the buildings go by. Then we arrived at the school—back to reality.
I roamed the halls with contempt. I had my hands in the pockets of my faded, black jeans and the hood of my purple hoodie was up and covering my head. The bell rang. I went through my day. All the classes just kind of happened. I barely remembered the lessons from the day. It was all kind of a blur. My brain was consumed only by thoughts of last night’s dream, and my notebook was filled with drawings of the creature-thing that attacked the mysterious, coiffed stranger and me.
I went through history, English IV, discrete math, and finally made it to Spanish class. I figured that I could sleep through that class, as there was a substitute teacher.
“Mrs. Videl just experienced the miracle that is childbirth, so I will be subbing this class,” said the teacher, who sounded like she smoked twenty packs a day and looked like she got her hairstyle ideas from Marge Simpson. “Pull out your textbooks and appear busy,” she continued as textbooks practically flew out from under the desks. “You can listen to your music, head-phones, or whatever; you can make crude doodles—just look like you’re trying or something.”
I quickly followed orders, picking up my textbook and plugging into Green Day. I began to drum along with Tré Cool and decided to turn to the page where verb conjugation was discussed. I was pretending to be interested in how to conjugate verbs, when out of the corner of my eye, I saw him. I spotted him from a distance and he seemed to be waving at me. Weird.
This guy looked like the guy from my dream. He had donned the same black trench coat and even had the same coif. It was starting to freak me out. I could make out his muscular build and see his facial features. It was him. He was still waving. I put my face in the book and did my best to ignore him for the remaining ninety minutes of class.
The bell rang. And just like that, class was dismissed. As everybody dispersed and disappeared into either the car line or the bus loop, I heard the voice. It was calling my name. “Owen, Owen,” the man cried out.
I turned around. He knew my name. I began to walk towards him.
“There you are, Owen,” the man said as he got closer to me. His look of concern turned into a somewhat reassuring smile.
“I saw you l-last night,” I stammered as I continued to fight the throbbing inside of my head. “Y-y-you were in m-my dream.”
“That wasn’t a dream; that was real.”
I stared at him in disbelief. “I’m sorry. What?” I asked, dumbfounded.
He gazed back at me. “Yeah.”
I couldn’t understand