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Edgemaster Scion -> Novella- The PhantomSeed Chronicles: Bane (11/21/2010 13:04:11)
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Chapter 1: My Beginning
“Hey Kian, what are you doing here?” It’s Gal, my childhood friend.
“I got caught chewing gum and refused to stop after they told me to. Can you believe it?” I say. He looks at me in disbelief, creating an awkward silence. Eventually the silence is broken by the sound of—
“Turn around! There is no interaction with others. Do you want another detention?” The voice belongs to the principal, whose name I can never remember. About his comment, it would be easier not to interact if we were separated by more than a wall of air two centimeters thick. That’s right. I’m in detention.
For the whole rest of the time, everyone is silent. The intensity of the atmosphere drives me crazy. Other than the occasional fidgeting of fingers, everything is painstakingly quiet. I consider taking a nap, but there was no desk to lean on. After about an hour and a half, I’m up and walking home with Gal.
“Can you believe the state that that place is in?” he says.
“I really can’t believe it. The place is riddled with cracks and plants and dead bugs everywhere. You’d think the janitor would be fired by now,” I respond. We both give small laughs, but I stop almost immediately.
“Hey, what’s wrong Kian? You usually laugh at your own jokes for at least three seconds longer than that!” he jokes. I don't respond. “But really, what’s wrong?”
“It’s...It’s nothing, alright?” I pause to think of something else to say. “Why are you worrying so much?”
“What do you mean ‘so much’? I’m just asking what’s wrong with you.” he says.
“There’s nothing wrong with me. Man, you’re worse than Seppy.” I say. Seppy is my younger sister. Her name wasn’t originally Seppy, it was Alen. She personally disliked the name, so we came up with Seppy which is short for sepulchre due to her obsession with digging. She always seems to find bones.
“Oh, that was low. You’d better watch it next time,” he says.
“Eh, sure Gal. Sure...” I trail off. We remain speechless for a few moments, then Gal brings something up that irritates me.
“Hey, did you see the news this morning?” he asks. I’m afraid to ask why, but to tell the truth, I’m curious.
“No, I didn’t see it. Why?” I respond.
“Another unexplained murder happened last night. They say that the victim was drained of every ounce of blood!” he says. I gag a bit at the thought.
Another murder? They’d better not trace it to me again. I’ve had just about enough of their false leads. Every other unexplained murder always seems to lead to me. It’s almost as if someone wants to get me for something. I just shrug and drop all of those thoughts. It’s all probably just coincidence.
“Alright, see you tomorrow Kian!” Gal breaks my thoughts. I hadn’t even noticed that we were at his house already. I must have been lost in thought. I look up from the sidewalk and wave goodbye to him.
As I continue on to my house, I think about the bloodless murder. What could possibly drain anything of all blood? There’s no living creature that could do that. At least, that’s according to how much knowledge I have, and that’s not much. I begin going through every animal I know in my mind that drinks blood. Nothing comes up but bats, and a bunch of insects. I think of pipistrelles, red bats, even vampire bats—
I’m stopped by the word ‘vampire’. Vampires can suck all blood out of a whole living being if I recall correctly. I begin to wonder if there really is such a thing as a vamp—
Bump. I walk head-first into a telephone pole. Ouch. After shaking off the sudden impact, I think of it as a sign; a sign that I’m being stupid and that I should drop the vampire thoughts. Still, I wonder if what I am thinking of is tr—
Bump. I just bumped into a tree. Yeah. I think. I should really stop with the vampire thoughts. I shrug to myself and continue on home. I remain blank in my head the rest of the way.
When I get home, I immediately make way for the bathroom, so that I can wash the bump on my head. I feel someone tugging at my side, but I ignore whoever it is. Suddenly, I trip over and fall flat on my head. I quickly recover and see Seppy standing there with a mischievous smirk on her face.
“Alright Sep, what was that for?” I say, rubbing my forehead.
“Well, you wouldn’t stop when I wanted you to,” she says. She glances over to the door behind me.
“That doesn’t make it alright to trip me,” I say. She frowns for a second, but returns to her fiendish grin. I know she knows about something that I don’t.
“Well, who cares? I’ve got some news for you,” she says.
Oh boy...I think sarcastically. I’m really in for it.
“I heard Dad on the phone a few minutes ago,” she waits a moment as if waiting for me to say something. But I don’t. “He heard that you got detention. What did you do?” she continues in an elongated, annoying tone.
“It’s nothing that would interest you. Why do you always need to irritate me?” I ask.
“Because it’s fun to watch you get in trouble!” she looks back at her room. “You’re no fun at all, you know that?” And she runs off into her little crypt of a room. She’s pretty bad at keeping eye contact. I sigh, and continue on to the bathroom, but I’m stopped by another voice.
“Kian!” Dad shouts. I almost instantaneously know where he is. His voice echoes throughout our hall of a "living room."
I mutter a profanity under my breath and head over to the dining room. I see him sitting at the dining table, reading a newspaper. The front of it is kind of shadowed, but I’m able to read the headliner: “Mysterious Murderer Obtains Thirst for Blood.” Not the title I would’ve chosen, but it summarizes up what I’m pretty sure the story is about. It’s the bloodless murder that Gal told me about. He looks up at me and sighs.
“Kian, your school principal called,” he begins.
Here it comes...
“I heard that you were in detention this afternoon,” he says.
“I’ve heard you’ve heard,” I say.
“They said that you refused to follow rules even when asked to do so and were given several warnings,” he goes on.
Yeah, because chewing gum is a crime I think to myself.
“Why, Kian? You used to be so well behaved; always followed the rules, did what you were told to do the first time you were asked. What’s gotten into you?” he says.
I feel some sort of anger well up in me, but I hold it in. I decide to just say what I think, “You don’t know me, Dad. Everyone has imperfections. No one can stay the same forever.” I say.
“But you’ve changed very suddenly. Does change not usually happen over a certain period of time? You’re never happy anymore,” he says.
“I’m fine, Dad.” I say. I’m getting more and more frustrated. He knows that I've never been happy.
“You can’t hide your reasons forever,” He says. I think about what I have to say for a moment.
I want to say, “You should know!” but I hold back. Instead, I say “Mom wouldn’t have cared.” Knowing that he knew what I was talking about, I turn away from him and look at the family pictuer from last year.
“You’re still upset about that incident?” he says.
I stop him right there. “'Incident?' No! That was no incident! Mom was murdered and you act like it was all just some accident! Why can’t you understand that? Why can't you understand that I don't want that wretched memory trapped in my head for all of eternity?” I snap.
“I was just trying to—” he attempts to speak again.
“No, you weren’t helping! You were just being an insensitive idiot!” I say.
He’s speechless. “I’m going to bed,” I say, and I storm off into the living room and up the stairs, forgetting the bathroom.
In my room, I’m thinking of the “conversation” that my dad and I just had. One moment, we’re talking about my behavior, the next I snap at him for bringing up the “incident” with Mom. I never want to recall that night and he knows it. It all happened so fast, that it’s taken me up to now to straighten it out. And I’m still haunted by it. For awhile, I just lay there, in my bed. It was so silent, that I noticed all of the smallest things; the air conditioner blowing air into my face, the cars occasionally passing by, my sister chatting with her friends, even an ant that crawls up my arm, which I pick up gently and place by my open window. An hour, maybe two pass, and I’m drifting in between a daze and reality. I occasionally hear someone’s footsteps going upstairs, then pausing, then going back down, as if deciding whatever they were doing wasn’t worth it. It stops altogether eventually and I fade to the darkness.
I wake up slowly with a weird taste in my mouth. As I whip off my blanket, I feel the sudden chill assault my skin. I want to get back in bed, but find the will power not to. I quietly walk over to my closet and grab the only jacket. I then turn to my air conditioner and turn it down. I walk out of my room, and hear snoring. It’s probably just Dad, so I ignore it and walk down the stairs.
My life is a huge mess, especially since Mom’s death. I decide that I need some more time alone, and that fresh air wouldn’t hurt, so I walk over to the front door. Catching sight of Seppy, I turn around. She’s just sitting down by the fireplace. I can tell that she’s thinking long and hard about something, so I walk over to her.
“You know, I could understand why you’re here if the fireplace was turned on, but it’s not,” I say. She acts startled for a moment, then turns around and looks relieved to see me.
“Oh, it’s just you, big brother,” she says. Now I notice that her eyes are reddened and her nose is running a bit. I can tell she’s been crying for a long time.
“Can I ask why you’re just sitting here?” I ask.
“I’m fine, Dad,” She says in the same way that I did with Dad. Now I know what she’s upset about.
“So, you heard me?” I say.
“Yeah,” She says, staring back at the black fireplace. She picks up a tissue off the ground and blows her nose into it.
“Seppy, I’m sorry you had to hear all of that. I understand that you don’t like it when people yell—”
“That’s got nothing to do with it!” she exclaims. This catches even me by surprise.
“Oh? Then what does have something to do with it?” I ask. She doesn’t respond. Instead, she just curls up in a ball like the way I found her when she was hiding that one night.
After awhile, I say, “I know what’ll make you talk.” And I reach into my pocket and pull out a small marble. On it, reads the letters MM which I think stand for some Latin phrase "Momento Morte" which means "Remember death." I don't really understand it, I just remember that the phrase meant a lot to Mom.
“This has to do with Mom, doesn’t it?” She turns, and just gazes at the marble. She breaks her silence.
“Mm-hm. I really miss Mom. She always told me stories and warmed me when I was little,” she whimpers, still looking at the marble.
“You still are little,” I say, but my voice rasies. “Too little! I understand that Mom was important to you. She was important to me too, and Dad! I’m still struggling to let go of it. You’re not the only one suffering from this, Alen!” I shout. Then, I step backward, because I know that that was too harsh. I expect her to cry some more, but instead she looks at me.
“You know I like being called Seppy,” she says, as if we were having a regular conversation.
“Err, I’m sorry.” I say. Now I’m the one looking away.
“It’s alright big brother,” she says, and holds her hand out. “Can I see the marble?” I nod and hand it over. She rolls it around in her hands for a few minutes. She smiles a bit. “It’s almost as if she was holding my hand right now,” she says.
“Yeah,” I say. “That’s why I keep it in my pocket all the time. It helps me remember who Mom saw me as.” We spend a whole hour just talking about Mom, and I realize that I was the selfish one. I was the one who took everything the hardest, and I took it out on everyone close to me. Eventually, Seppy tells me that she wants to be alone, so I decide to head for the door again.
“Wait!” she stops me.
“Yes?” I reply. She hands me the marble.
“You don’t want to forget this, do you?” she says.
“No, I don’t. Thanks,” I say.
“Don’t leave like Mom,” she says. Tears begin to run down her face again. I grab a tissue off the coffee table and wipe her down.
“I won’t,” I say.
“You have to promise me that,” she says.
“I promise that I won’t,” I reply. And now I’m walking outside. I feel weak as to what I said. I promised her that I won’t leave her like Mom did only about a year ago. I’m losing myself. I only hope that I’m able to keep that promise.
Chapter two is on it's way.
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