Yep, this was about to get freaky. My dark-colored backpack slung over my shoulder and my button-up blue shirt hanging over my khakis, I walked down the hall to lunch. The hottest girl, Charlemagne, know to some as Cherie, watched, from her locker, me with…mischievous?...eyes. Oh, yeah, she was eyeing me.
I shuddered and kept walking, trying to ignore her open stares. Her group giggled as I passed and a couple of the athletes glared at me, each having some kind of expression that read Stay away from my girl, buddy. They were always territorial. Yeah, that wording makes me think of animals. I smothered a chuckle.
I unpacked my lunch bag onto a table. Like always, I got the table in the corner where no one else sat; I was always alone. And it usually worked better that way. I was thankful for their cold shoulder; I could think on my own without being interrupted by anything but the bell. There was always the constant hum of conversation, though. It didn't much bother me, though it sounded like a bunch of bees.
I sat thinking about the dream I had had the night before. It always came when I was sleeping. It was like a haunting nightmare, always staying with me, waiting for its next chance to show itself. But look at me, I'm acting like I'm haunted by a ghost. But thinking about my father being an actual, real live demon kinda makes me itchy. I never knew my mom, neither. I was given up for adoption when I was two. I ended up with a seriously weird family. I got abused and got put into a foster home. I've lived with about five families. Each of them didn't think they could handle me; I was too headstrong. Good for them; I don't much care for them, neither.
I looked at my watch. "No, freakin'—" I blinked rapidly, the bell just going off. I hadn't been sitting there for twenty minutes! I stood up, backpack in hand, quickly putting my half-eaten sandwich into the bag and in with the rest of my unfinished lunch. I stashed that in my backpack and hurried off to the next class. Everything seemed to go quickly that day, for some reason I have yet to understand.
Anyways, I finished all of my classes, ignoring girls when they tried to pass notes and blocking out their voices as they giggled whenever I passed in the hall. Ever since I had learned of my heritage they seemed to get even more interested, which just scared me. Yes, I admit it, it scared me.
When it was time to go home, I gratefully went out to get on my bike and go home, backpack stuffed with homework. Most people went on the bus, but I can't stand loud, crowded small spaces. So, I rode 15 miles in twenty minutes and stowed the bike in the garage. I was currently living with another foster family, my fifth so far, and it was a very nice house with a nice yard in a nice neighborhood in a nice part of town. How nice can you get? It gets annoying, your surroundings being near perfect and all.
My foster mom opened the door. "You're finally home, Frederick? Good." I winced at the use of my name. I despised that name!! Why couldn't she just call me Fred or Freddy?? But, oh please, not Frederick. It was like something I cringed at hearing every time it was said. It was simply…not me. But then again, what name would fit the son of a demon?
The day went by normally, day turning to night as I did homework, shut in my room with Emo and metalcore playing. Yeah, so I like them both. Sue me. And I really liked the metalcore where it's girls who do most of the vocals; they're rare, but for some reason I think they're better. Don't ask why.
After a dinner of salad, mashed potatoes, and meatloaf with my foster parents and Gabe, I went back to my room. Gabe joined me up on the bed, looking up at me with those big, brown puppy dog eyes. I grinned and moved over so he could have more room. His dark brown fur shed amazingly quickly. He was my chocolate Labrador retriever. And he's the most spoiled rotten being ever to roam the Earth.
I fell asleep, thinking of the irony. My dog is named after a famous angel: Gabriel. But me, his master…well, I'm the son of a demon. My gosh, I really had to get that out of my head.
While I was asleep, I dreamt the same dream that had been coming to me for a week:
Night approaches, the last few bits of sunlight shining over the burning buildings. Then the twilight is night and the fires of homes and buildings light up the surrounding area. The full moon and the stars are blocked from sight by the smoke. Screams come from places near and far, that of women, children, and crying infants. Everything seems to be holding its breath, waiting for what is to come. A piercing shriek fills the air, riding on the wind like a hawk glides on the invisible force, and making my ears hurt. Nothing made sense. Everything had meaning, everything was real. Nothing here was a lie or trickery, yet everything was a riddle. The entire scene was like a jigsaw puzzle: miss one piece, and the whole thing will not come together. Nothing was as it should be in that old town.
A single boy, a scarlet slash across his breast, ran out into the middle of the street, stumbling. Finally he fell over a rock, gripping the bleeding wound. He lay still. I could do nothing to help him, I knew. I had tried in earlier times that I had the same dream, yet I could never interfere no matter what I did. Something began to gleam inside the smoke, it looked like—
I woke up to Gabriel's soft tongue on my face. I pushed him away grumpily and turned over. It was Saturday; I should be able to rest then. The sunlight spilled into the room through the window.
I started to sit up when Gabe insisted, and the memory of my dream came flooding back. Sometimes I had gone farther than that, to where it told me what I was—what I am. But I can't explain it now. The only imprint from the dream is the impression it made, not the dream itself.
It was frustrating, but I didn't let it get to me. I knew I probably had a long day ahead of me what with my job. I was going to be kept busy until nightfall, I was almost sure of that.
Not very long, but it's not really something that I could get very long. It's just cause it's not into the action yet. I think. I hope. Most likely.
lupine-eyes: Yes, I got this idea totally randomly while folding bath towels. Odd. Happens to me a lot like that. But, anyways, I'm sorry it was a bit awkward at first. You see, I'm in a non-denominational Christian house, living with very Christian parents, been brought up since I was one month old like that. So, I can talk about some such stuff without it being very awkward. Sorry if because I was comfortable, I made it kind of uncomfortable for people not used to being exposed to what I'm exposed to.
Thanks to: lupine-eyes, AneeDegoraRose