Chapter 1: Back to reality

Brendon stared out of his bedroom window at the sidewalk of his suburbian town. The orange-brown leaves flew around in the chilly October wind. He sighed. It was Halloween and he had a flue, terrific.

He then lay back on his Downy fresh pillows and looked up at his grey ceiling. The fan gave off a cool breeze and he closed his eyes. Then the downstairs doorbell rang and he sat up. The sound of feet coming up the stairs came a few minutes later and then his door’s handle turned.

“Bre-kun!” a girl dressed in a dog-like suite came in and yelled. She was basically wearing brown sweatpants that were sewn to something that was covered by a brown and black hooded jacket that had floppy black ‘ears’. She carried a bright orange handbag and wore brown-black make-up that completed it all.

“Hey Namida,” he greeted and flung his legs to the left side of his bed.

“Looky at what I got!” she said and routinely ran over and sat beside him, then opened up her bag.

“It looks half full,” he said looking into the candy-filled treat bag.

“That’s because I have a quarter of the way left silly!” she said and pushed him with her arm.

Brendon laughed a little and then coughed.

“Are you ok?” Namida asked.

“Yeah,” he coughed. “I’m fine.”

“You don’t sound ok,” she said and stood up.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” he said in a normal voice.

“Okay,” Namida said as she set back down.

Brendon smiled. “Let’s see what ya got…”

--

Brendon suddenly heard his alarm clock go off, and he hit the snooze button. He didn’t want to wake up yet, but it was too late. The memory had already drifted away. Sighing, he looked at a picture of a girl with brown hair and hazy blue-green eyes. At the bottom of the picture was the word, “Namida.”

“Sorry Nami, but the grass needs mowing and the chores need to be done,” Brendon said as he stretched and stepped out of bed. He then strolled over to his closet and opened it. Not needing something big, he picked out some old pants and fading grey tee-shirt. Then he put on his old, hole-having socks and worn out black shoes.

Looking at the small wood-carved, to knobbed, coat rack, he took a faded pink John Deere hat from the left knob and put in on his head. Picking the green one from the right too, he went to the bathroom and looked into the mirror at himself. He gave a smile and said, “Hey good lookin’, wanna go out for a bite to eat sometime?” He gave a heavy laugh and switched the hats. He put back the pink one and went downstairs and came to the kitchen.

“Welcome back to reality Don-baka,” a nine-year-old girl in pink said as she took her bowl and spoon to the sink. “Let’s see how long it takes today,” she said as she turned around and pressed a button on her pink watch, then skipped out of the room.

Brendon rolled his eyes and walked over to get his usual breakfast of cereal. Getting the milk, he heard heavy footsteps coming from the living room. “Good morning dad,” he said to the man that walked in. “It’s been another week.”

“Yes it has,” the man said and watched his son pour milk into his cereal. “You don’t want coffee?”

“No sir,” Brendon replied as he sat down at the table.

“Suite yourself,” he said and fixed his coffee.

Light footsteps came from the living room also; they soon brought a thin lady in pajamas.

“Good morning mom,” Brendon said.

“Good morning honey,” she replied and asked, “Did you sleep well?”

“Yup.”

“Did ya have the same dream again?” Brendon’s father asked.

“Yup.”

“Ooooh,” his mother wined and walked over to him. “Don’t let it bother you sweetie, what’s done is done and there’s nothing we can do about it.”

“I know, I know,” Brendon said. “I’m finished anyway.” Picking up his bowl filled with milk, he went and poured it in the sink. Then he walked out the door to the warm, moist air.

“When should we tell him John?” Brendon’s mom asked as she looked to her husband.

John took a sip of coffee then said, “Soon.”

Brendon put a lock in the metal holder and spun the dial on it to clear it. Then he took his hat off and whipped the sweat off his brow; he put his hat back on and leaned against the wooden doors. Shade…

He folded his arms, closed his eyes, and recalled a memory of long ago…

Namida and he were making a snowman when Namida asked, “Bre-kun, what does a snowman actually look like?”

“Well,” he said,” It has three main parts; the first is the big circular bottom.”

“Like a ball?” she asked.

“Kinda,” he replied, “it’s a bit flatter though.”

“Oh,” Namida said as she stared at the blue-grey sky. “I see… we already did that, right Bre-kun?”

“Yup,” Brendon replied as he finished patting it with his glove.

“Now what then?” she asked curiously.

“Now for the middle,” he replied as he got up.

“Is it plain too?”

“Not unless you want it to be,” he said as he picked up and already made middle piece.

“What can we put on it?” she asked with curious eyes.

“Coal,” Brendon replied as he set the middle piece on top of the bottom piece.

“Won’t it burn it though?” she asked.

“No, this won’t,” he replied. “We won’t light them.”

“I see,” she said.

Brendon picked up a few pieces of coal. “How many do you want to put on?” he asked.

“Half,” Namida replied.

“Ok,” Brendon said as he placed one back in the bag. “I’ll help you put on the first one, ok?”

“Ok!” Namida replied with joy.

Brendon placed a piece of coal in Namida’s snow-wet glove. “Close you hand,” he instructed, and she did so. “Follow my lead,” he said as he guided her hand to the top part. “Gently let go and quickly press it against the snow.”

Namida nodded and did so, without Brendon’s help.

“There we have it,” Brendon said a few minutes later after Namida’s ‘victory’. “May I take a picture of you with it?” he asked.

“Ok!” Namida replied.

“I’ll be right back then!” Brendon said and ran into the house. Soon he came back out with it, and saw Namida standing next to the snowman; examining it.

He gave a smile and found a spot to take a shot; Namida had her hand on the side of the snowman, looking towards it. He took many pictures of her with it, and in the last one, he only remembered her eyes. The blind, hazy, green-blue eyes.

Brendon opened his and saw them; Namida’s eyes.

O.O

Brendon stood there for a moment, looking into the hazy blue-green eyes. Then he truly saw what he was looking at; a white wolf. Its fur glistened in the sun as it stood on the edge of the forest. Brendon blinked, and the eyes were their normal yellow-brown. Then, it bounded off; back into its home.

Transfixed on what happened Brandon took a step forward and then found his face near the newly mown lawn. Getting up, he looked at the forest; nothing was there now. He put his cap on his head and thought; Was that…Namida? No… No, It can’t be she’s...

“You have the lawn mown son?” a familiar voice asked.

“Yeah dad,” Brendon replied, slowly turning his head, just in case the wolf came back. “Weeded too.”

“Good, good,” his father said as he came into view. “Would you like to help me on a project?”

“What kind of project?” Brendon asked.

“We’re gonna work with wood,” his father answered.

OO

Wood chunks flew at and past Brendon as he watched, through thick goggles, his dad saw through a piece of wood with an electric saw. They were making a table and already had two legs finished. Brendon’s dad was talking, but he wasn’t paying a lick of attention to what his elder was saying; he was thinking about Namida and the wolf.

“You ready son?” his father yelled to him.

“Huh!” Brendon asked as he snapped back to reality.

“You ready to saw?” his father asked as he turned off the saw.

“Oh, yeah,” he replied and took the sharp object.

“I’m gonna go ask your mom something,” his dad said and went up the stairs to the main hallway.

“Okay, Brendon said, and started sawing the nearly finished legs apart. He soon went to thinking of someone else; Namida’s grandmother.

She set down her tea and looked at him. “Well now,” she said, “This house you moved into, it has a forest behind it, ne?”

“Yes ma’am,” an eight-year-old Brendon replied, “And there’s a scary monster in there too! I’ve heard in myself! Really!”

“And what did it sound like?” she asked.

“Like…like…,” he said, getting into thought, “Like a warewolf and a zombie!”

“Hmmm… it seems like you’ve heard the forest’s spirit then,” she said, then took a sip of her tea.

“Forest’s spirit?” Brendon asked curiously. “What’s that?”

“Well,” the grandmother said,” It can be anything or anyone. Its power comes from the purest soul closest to it.”

“Really?” he asked.

“Yes,” she replied.

“Wow,” he said in amazement.

Brendon finished the legs and called,” Dad! I’m done!”

The heavy footsteps came and his dad poked his head out the door. “Really?”

“Yup.”

“Well then,” he said in an impressed voice and walked down to him. “Son, there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you.” He put his left arm over his son’s shoulder.

“What is it?” Brendon asked.

“Well, you know what happened to your friend … Namida?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, your mom and I though about it, and decided that this house or neighborhood has too many memories.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean… well… son, we’re moving.”

“Moving!?” Brendon backed away from his dad.

“Yes, moving. We’re leaving in a week.”

“No, no. I don’t want to move.”

“Son, you’ve to be strong and face the fact; Namida’s gone and you need to find some new friends.”

“No!” Brendon yelled. “We can’t move!”

“Well, we are!” his father said in a strong tone.

Brendon looked at the floor and shook his head. “No… no. We can’t, we… I won’t!” He then fled up the stairs past his dad, through the hall, up more stairs, went in his room, slammed the door, and jumped on his bed. There’s a time for men and boys alike to cry, no matter how strong. This was his time; his reason. Then, he remembered the storm…

The thunder and lightening outside added to the Halloween fright. Rain came down in sheets as it splashed upon the window pane of young Brendon’s room. He only stared at the ceiling; thinking, dreaming. Drowsiness came upon him and his eyelids slowly slid into the darkness of sleep.

Then the slam of his door opening made him open his eyes. His mother was next to him in less than a second. “Honey, are you ok?” she asked and felt his head.

“I’m fine mom,” he said and asked, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she replied. “I just wanted to check on you.”

“What time is it?” he asked sleepily.

“Umm…” she mumbled as she looked around and then answered, “Almost midnight.”

“Why’d you wake me then?” he asked and tried to get himself up.

“To check on you honey,” she replied and lowered him back down. “No go to sleep, you need your rest.” She kissed him on the forehead and said, “Good night and sweet dreams.” Then she slid his cover over him and then went out the door as running footsteps sounded outside them.

He closed his eyes for what seemed to be a few minutes, but opened them back up. He sat up and wondered; why in the world would my mom wake me up in the middle of the night, and rush out the door so quickly? There must be something wrong.

With the conclusion, he slung his legs over the edge and put his feet on the floor. Getting up quickly, he became dizzy and had to sit back down. He waited a few more minutes, and then slowly stood up. He held onto the wooden nightstand that was beside him until he could stand up well again. Then, silently he walked over to the door; opening it creak by creak until he could slip through it.

Brendon looked both ways down the hall and saw that no one was coming. Then, he tiptoed over to the top of the stairs. He looked down the corridor-like stairway, and knew that this was the safest, yet hardest, part of any mission. Slowly, he crept down them and stopped midway to see from what room he could hear the grown-ups talking.

He closed his eyes and heard them from the right side; the living room. He slid over to that side and pressed his ear to the wall, then slowly slid his head forward a little. Knowing the house well, he had found that there was a part that when the builders were creating the house, they made part of the wall hollow where he could hear through the hallway too. Breathing softly, he eavesdropped on the conversation:

“I told you already, she dropped whatever it was and bend down to find it. I tried to help her, but then these wild beasts attacked!” A mans voice yelled.

“How can you be sure? It was probably just a prank,” another man’s voice said in a quieter tone.

“On a blind girl and her father?” the first asked.

Brendon sucked in a deep breath; Namida!

“You know how the pranksters are!” the second voice said.

“Then help me find her!” the first one said.

The front door slammed as Brendon ran outside.

O.O

“Namida! Namida!”

Brendon searched and searched, but couldn’t find her anywhere. Then he came to a dark street near Namida’s house and soon went into a coughing fit. He soon hit the ground and felt around with his hand for something. Then he felt something; it was hard, cold, tear shaped.

;-; (8 pages)