The Paranormal Side

Rated T… for Teddy Bears…

Author Note: I'm rewriting all the chapters. I'm truly sorry for not posting in forever. It seems luck doesn't like me – or life, whatever one you wanna pick. It really doesn't Matter. To make it short and sweet, my parents are getting a divorce. You'd think after the death of three family members last year would be enough – but no. Now this. I'm just telling you guys this so you know why I haven't been so active. I'm really sorry. But I believe you all will understand so there's no need for pity! I just want you all to read my story and (hopefully) like it lol. Don't worry, I'm not wallowing in self-pity or depression. I'm not letting this get me down! (5/27/13)

Hope you enjoy! Also, have an awesome day!

Chapter 1- Start of a New Day

"…Dibra, when you're done with your dinner, go wash up. After that you have 'bout an hour till bedtime. Is that understood, Little Lady?" My Dad states as he stands from the table, picking up his plate and walking out into the kitchen. I twirl the cold spaghetti on my plate. 'Eck, Spaghetti is so weird,' I think, glowering at the cold, sticky noodles. I go to stand up from the table but my Dad's demanding glare tells me otherwise. I sigh, hesitantly sticking the noodles into my mouth and try my best not to gag. I stifle my disgusted grunts and eat only a few more bites before deeming myself full. I glance up and notice my Dad's satisfactory smile – I can finally be done with this awful meal.

I hurriedly rush into the kitchen, plopping the dish of half-eaten spaghetti into the sink, and smile at my dad as I head to the bathroom. Every single night, I'm supposed to brush my teeth, and rinse my face off. On a rare occasion, I take a bath but my Dad doesn't like the idea of me taking a bath at night because during the night you can sweat and then you have to take another bath again – apparently, this also adds up on the bills. I snatch up my step-stool and place it by the sink. I jump onto it and smile at myself in the mirror. It barely shows the top of my head because I'm short. I grab my toothbrush, my favorite minty toothpaste and for two painstaking minutes brush my teeth.

I spit out the toothpaste and wash out my mouth with water. I glance up in the mirror and notice my Dad lingering by the door. I shoot him a funny look and he chuckles. I jump down from step-stool and slide it over by the wall with my foot. As I walk out of the bathroom, my Dad rustles my hair. I fix my hair as he walks away into the living room, lighting up a cigarette. I huff at him but he just ignores me. I glower at him as he saunters over and plops down into his favorite recliner. I glance up at the clock and realize I have about an hour or so till bed. I grab my backpack from the floor by the door and race upstairs. I slam my door shut. I reach into my backpack and dig around for my pencil box. I take out a few stray crumpled pieces of paper and smile.

It's time to draw.

I toss all of my stuff onto the floor and open up my huge window. The window allows the heavens to gaze upon my room – the stars glisten dully, shadowed over by the towns artfical light. I switch off all the lights in my room and return back to the window. The stars have brighten up, sparkling and infiltrating through the town's light barrier – the stars shine through, showering my room with a soft glow. I observe myself in my mirror. My skin glows with a white hue, making me seem as though I'm nothing more than an apparition. My dark blue eyes seem two shades brighter, making my eyes seem like dull blue gems. My raven black hair cascades over my shoulders, glowing with a white hue as well. I smile. I look gorgerous. I look like an angel.

I look just like Mom too – with her being an angel and all that. I shake away the thoughts of Mom. If I think about her it makes me sad. Then I start to cry – and then Dad starts to cry too. I focus back on the task on hand. I skip back over to the window and allow myself to bask in the glow of the stars. They're simply beautiful. I drag my stuff over to the window and plop down next to the window. I clumsily pick up my big fat pencil and start to draw the stars, trying my best to capture their endless beauty to the best of my abilities. After I deem my stars to be 'perfect', I start drawing in what I desire to see once in my life time.

An alien.

When Mom was still around, we would travel out to the huge empty fields by the abandon factory and use her telescope to observe everything above us – the heavens, the stars, anything that crossed our path. Mom also informed me about these things, or creatures, called Aliens. She showed me pictures of what others thought they looked like – But I didn't like how people described Aliens. They made them out as if they were feral beasts! Mom said they were believed to be extremely intelligent and I didn't understand why they would believe aliens to be beast like. I imagined them as very elegant and poised individuals – nothing like how others saw aliens.

I finish my drawing, holding it up to the only light source I have right now. It looks awesome. I smile and hug the drawing. If it wasn't for my Mom, I don't think I'd ever draw as much as I do. I don't think I'd have such an interest in aliens if it wasn't for her. I stuff the drawing into my drawing notebook, making sure not to crinkle it. I toss the book to the side. I glance up at the clock, counting how much time I have left.

Only five minutes left.

I start to pout – I hate having to go to bed so early. Eight O'clock was insanely early! My one friend didn't have to go to bed till Nine O'clock. I stand up, grabbing my notebook on the way up. I place my notebook onto my dresser and start to change into my night gown – an oversize tee-shirt that says 'My the Force be with You'. I go to crawl into bed only to stop when my bedroom door opens. I turn around and see my Dad peeking inside.

"You gettin' ready for bed?" He turns on my lights. I pout slightly. Now the stars can't shine like they're meant too. I shake my head 'yes' and he smiles, "Good girl." I race my hand over my sheets. I jump into my bed and crawl under the sheets. My dad smiles and walks over, patting me on the head. He kisses me on my forehead just like he does every single night. As I lay down and start to relax, I hear my Dad start flipping through my notebook. The sound of paper flipping stops. I glance up only to notice him staring intently at the page. I raise an eyebrow.

What's he doing?

"Dad, what are you do-" I tried to say but I was interrupted by him slamming the notebook off my dresser. I jump slightly at the loud bang the book made smacking off the dresser. My dad glowers over at me and points at me directly.

"I want you to stop this right now, Dibra! Your mother was obsessed with aliens and the paranormal and do you know what? It basically led to her death! I'm sick and tired of you always blabberin' on about this – this shit!" He roars out. I feel tears prickling in my eyes. I bow my head to hide my face. I don't want Dad to see my crying – it only shows I'm weak. He continues to yell at me and when he's all done, he snatches my drawing notebook and tosses it into the trash can in my room. I stumble out of my bed after he leaves. I make my way over to my trash can – sobbing and howling like a lion with a thorn in its paw.

It hurts. It hurts so bad – and there's nothing I can do to stop it from hurting.

My Dad hates all the stuff I like – the same stuff Mom liked when she was still alive. Maybe he doesn't want me to be like Mom. Maybe he wants me to be like him. I cringe and stifle a loud cough at that thought. I wipe my tears onto my night gown and shake my head. I could never be like Dad. I pull out my drawing notebook and hold it close to me.

I open my drawing book and start flipping through all the pictures I've drawn. I soon lose my tear-stricken face to the bliss of my pictures. I run my tiny hand over my latest picture and smile to myself.I drew myself, to the best of my abilities, holding hands with an alien and wrote 'Best Friends Forever. I close my book and throw it up on my desk. I sigh, walk over to my dresser and change into a clean nightgown.

I shuffle on over to my bed. I glance back over at the door. I can hear my Dad angrily mumbling to himself in his bedroom. I cringe as I hear a loud 'thunk' come from his room. I crawl back into my bed and cringe at my Dad and how he acts.

He doesn't know anything.

I wake up and slowly blink.

"That same dream again. Geeze, I was eight years old when that happened and I'm now sixteen. Brain, can't you just drop it?" I hiss to myself. I sit up and sigh heavily as I swing my legs off my bed. I glance over at my alarm clock and raise my hands to my face, trying desperately to clear my sight. It's seven-thirty. I cringe.

'Looks like I overslept. Opps.' I sigh, and get up snatching my glasses from my nightstand.

"Dibra! Are you up? School starts in about thirty minutes! If you're late, you'll be grounded, Little Lady!" My Dad shouts upstairs. I roll my eyes. If he was nice and caring he'd make sure I was up before seven-thirty maybe I wouldn't be fighting time in the endless war to make sure I get to school on time. I shuffle on over to my door and pry it open to reply back to my Dad. I'm sure he'd like to know I'm up and that I'm getting ready for school.

"I understand Dad. I'll make sure my arse is to school before Eight O'clock. If not, I'm grounded – forever banned from a social life." I drawl out, making myself sound very dramatic and conflicted – just like any 'normal' teenager. I get the regular ' Shut up and get ready' response and sigh. As I close my door, I close my eyes and stand there for a minute. I need to calm down. He's always like this so I just need to get over it. I open my eyes once more and check the time.

I grimace as time seems to speed up.

"Looks like I get to skip having a shower!" I think sourly. I go into my closet and grab a t-shirt and skinny jeans. I look at my t-shirt and smile proudly. My t-shirt reads ' Aliens are Among Us!" and has a cute UFO and alien. I put it on along with my skinny jeans and then turn to my mirror. My black hair is long and wild. I grab my brush and quickly rip it through my hair. After that, I throw it up into ponytail.

Looking in the mirror, I do a few funny faces then look myself over. My face is a bit scruffy from yesterday and my dark blue eyes look a bit red. Taking off my circular glasses, I quickly grab my eye drops and use them. I put my glasses back on and head on downstairs.

I stop in the bathroom real quick, do my business and wash my hands. I look over my scruffy face again and look at my watch. I have twenty-eight minutes to get to school. I guess I could wash my face.

I hurriedly grab a hand-towel, some soap and start the arduous task of cleaning my face off. After a minute or two, I dry my face off, apply lotion to my face and check myself out once more. I do look pretty sexy, If I do say so myself. Giggling at myself, I walk out of the bathroom and see my dad in the living room.

He's in his favorite black pleather recliner reading the newspaper like he does every morning. His face is speckled with stubble, his black hair looks untidy and a gross. His vivid green eyes look extremely tired and I frankly don't understand why he doesn't go to bed. I gently place my hand on his shoulder. Ouch. It feels really tight. He glowers at me. I retract my hand.

"Hey Dad…"

"Dibra, hurry up and leave already! I will ground you if you're late to school!" He spits out, obviously worn out. I sigh and glower right back at him. He really needs to go to bed or he'll be in a horrible mood all day – though, it probably won't make much of a difference. I send him a sad look and he rolls his eyes.

"D-Dad, I'm gonna leave in a minute but you need to get some rest. You worked the night shift last night didn't you?"

"… I did and I would love some sleep but guess who has to work the morning shift," He spits out, irritation thick in his voice. I get a chill down my back and turn around facing the entrance to the kitchen.

"Well, I love you Dad…"

"I love you too Dibra now hurry up and eat the toast I made for you and get your arse to school!" he shouts, trying his best not to sound crabby. I sigh and say 'yeah yeah' to appease him.

My Dad and I don't really get along – well we haven't in the last few years. It's because we both lost someone dear to us – Mom. She was a famous scientist and one day something big ended up happening at the place she worked out. At first, we were told the lock down was just a precaution and that we'd see her soon.

Oh how wrong they were.

A few hours later, my Dad and I got a call – it was the last time we heard from her. She seemed to have finished just crying and was telling me how much she loved me. I really didn't understand what was going on – but everything I said to her I meant it with all my heart and soul.

After I handed the phone to my Dad, I notice a change in him right away.

He seemed lonely.

I didn't really notice it at the time but now when I look back on that day, his face clearly spells it out. He sat down in the same pleather recliner and talked to her – until the very last second.

"Babe, I love you a lot. Don't you ever forget that – I mean it. W-When I join you up in heaven; I want you to promise me alright?" Dad said, with tears in his eyes. I heard my mom's voice shake with depression as she promised him that she would.

"J-Janice!? Janice!" Dad shouted as he pulled the phone away from his ear and we heard the line get cut off. My Dad kept screaming her name until our neighbors, concerned, ran into our house and calmed him down.

That's the only time I've seen my dad cry – and it's a sight I'd rather not see again.

It was awful. The neighbors fought to restrain him from going bat-shit crazy and tearing the house apart. After they calmed him down, they sat around him trying their best to comfort him. They all knew what had happened – it was on the news. My Dad placed one of his hands over his heart and used the other to support his head as he cried and cried and cried out all the pain he was feeling. Looking back on it now I fully understand what he was feeling.

Heartbreak. Loneliness. Depression. Hate. Rage. Anguish. Regret – Any type of negative emotion. It was all slowly settling on his shoulders like silt settling on the bottom of a lake – and over the years it hardened. His face lost its carefree look for a strict and permanent frown. At the funeral he didn't cry once. He just stared into space. His eyes were empty – just like his heart. The viewing was the worst. I remember walking up with him. Since her body wasn't found in the destruction all we had was a picture of her. He held the picture close to his chest. To me, it looked like he wanted to bawl his eyes out. Others said he looked extremely angry.

In my honest opinion, it was probably both. I shake my head and focus back on the task of getting to school on time. If I want to think of this, I'll do it later. I don't wanna get grounded for being late and I tried to tell Dad why I was late and what I was thinking about, I don't think he'd be too happy. I sigh loudly and shuffle on.

I walk into the kitchen and see a plate of toast. I drool a bit as I pick a piece up, butter it, and then eat it. I eat a few more pieces and finish them all off with a glass of milk. You know, for strong, healthy bones. I then go to the bathroom. I check myself over once more. I have a few scratch marks decorating my face from yesterday. My best friend, Liz, and I were out in town, helping the local Library move around some new bookshelves. I ended up falling down the one stairwell, getting a few paper cuts on my face.

I glide my hand over my face, tracing the small cuts on my face – it looks like I fought a wild cat. If anyone asks, I'll just say that. I giggle to myself and snatch up my toothbrush that's nearby. I brush my teeth, humming 'Bad Romance' by Lady GaGa in a poor attempt to past the time. After two minutes, I rinse my mouth out and smile in the mirror. I don't want any embarrassing moments pertaining to my smile. Geeze, knowing my luck, I'd say hello to some hottie and he'd walk away laughing his ass off because I have some god damn leftovers hanging out between my teeth.

I walk out of the bathroom once I deem myself presentable and hear my Dad mumbling about me still being in the house. I sigh heavily and pinch the bridge of my nose. He really needs to take a break from work and sleep. I understand we need the money to pay bills but he's working himself to exhaustion. I glance over at him. He's my Dad and I love him. I just want him to be happy – but nothing in his life is giving him the happiness that's missing from his life. I frown.

Is there maybe something I could do? I shake away that thought. I honestly don't know if there is anything I could do for an unhappy man. I shuffle over to the front door, making sure that I'm absolutely ready for school. I do a mental check of everything. I glance over my shoulder to look at my Dad once more.

"Dad, I'll be leaving now," I say as I grab my backpack. I hear him shout something and just ignore it. It was probably just him telling me to get my arse to school faster. Geeze, he never lets up on me. I walk out into the street and then check the time on my watch.

"Awesome, I have twenty minutes to get to school,"I think excitedly, smiling to myself. I usually leave the house a few minutes later and almost always am late. Today should be a great day – at least for me.

End of Chapter 1- Start of a New Day