Dangerous Dementions

The Birthing Hour

By N.S.Tanner


This book is dedicated to:
My grandmother Ginny for being my soul and heart these past few long years of my life.
To my Gramsie, for her push in the right direction, her novelist hands have worked wonders into this world.
To my father, for which I would never be able to succeed without his independent radiance in my life.
To my other family and of course my friends who inspired this;
Torinda: My best friend and supporter through the years with my silly dreams.
Angie and Maria, Aileen, Jess, Stephen and Jon, Brit and Breann, Matt, Evan, Ethan, Keith, Jake and especially Emily, for whom taught me that it is alright to write from not only the heart and the mind, but the feet as well. Dancing and walking can help one inspire the brain. ;)
To Kylee and Livia, whom even, younger than I, do more understand than most.
To My mother and Mark and Katie, amazing people right there.
To Joe, who has kept me inspired through and through even with our ups and downs. I don’t know what I’d do without you.
You’re one of my best friends.
To my kitten Muffin for keeping my lap warm during the winter nights I stayed up writing away my imagination and dreams. And to my other beautiful cats Winston, Buhba, Treebug, Delilah, and Elphie.
Last but not least too Coffee.
For which I believe if I had neither Coffee nor tea I would not be coherent during my many nights.

Prologue

The wind was blowing through the trees; nothing seemed so much calmer, and so perfect than it did at this moment. Everything was exactly as it should be. My eyes turned toward the sunny rays of light radiating off of the solar systems center ball of fire, the orange globe in the sky that sent off the warming, homey sensation of a babies blanket wrapping around them to seal in safety. The trees swayed back and forth, back and forth, their green leaves never once missing a beat in the natures sound, thundering across the never ending ocean of blue sky...it was something I should have rendered with my father long ago, however as the wings beyond the skies fluttered in graceful duties I myself embraced the peace the scenery brought before me.

Dad was right.

It takes a true soul and a born artist to accept the details of any world. Till now I didn’t know what that meant. But my father was like no other I believe I’ll ever know. He believed in embracing the unknown and accepting faults of any kind. He really believed our world would get better in time. Though I am not sure he thought it so bad even now. Wherever he is, I hope he can see what I see now.

I took a chance and glanced down at the valley below, looking for him. The angel who’d saved me. But the colors were all intertwined and the more blue I saw the more worry surrounded my heart. I felt my chest clench painfully and I knew I needed to take my place. The war was only beginning. I had no chance of survival, I was almost certain of that fact; but I knew I had a chance to protect the others. I took a step forward, looking down through the drop into the devastating valley bellow and there seemed to me less of that beautiful purple glow I had been growing to love and more of the fainted blues and whites. White was oncoming death, the faded cast of blue was fallen, the violet purple that caressed the tanned skin…

“Tanner! We must move, the gate has been opened!” Now was the chance, now was my duty. I must lead the others into the battle; we must stop this before chaos reins any further than this world. Save our worlds…protect our circle.

I stepped forward, looking back at the form of the twins standing at either side of me. Glowing with such a radiant blue it was almost blinding to my eyes. Not far behind one of the twins was the odd assortment of colors. And then there was myself, shining a brilliant green. I was a hunter. I was a warrior. I was a fighter. I was the protector between worlds and I was the chosen leader. All of them at my command, waiting for my word, waiting for their orders…and I was standing there. Frozen by fear.

Their lives were in my hands.

And I wasn’t ready to play God.

I.

Months earlier

There’s a reason for everything. That’s what my father always told me. So there must be a reason for every happen stance that follows you throughout your life, right? It lands you a trip through the impossible. That’s all I believe. You can’t fight fate, apparently. Which is how I’m stuck in an airport heading for my uncle Marks. This is how I break down life. It’s a time you have to figure out what you’re doing, and what is going to happen. This usually includes the awkward stages called growing up. Being eighteen never meant much to me. I was perfectly content staying seventeen forever. What’s the point in growing up? Voting, smoking, being of age to do things that are meaningless since you have to be twenty-one to do everything else in the world besides be put into office for a government job. That just didn’t sound interesting to me. No, I want to do something else with my time on this planet everyone calls earth. Even if I don’t know what that is yet.

I can see the faces around me as I push my way through the now crowded terminal, clinging to my oversized raincoat that my mother convinced me to wear, predicting a storm when I would arrive in Oregon. The elderly lady from ahead of me said something under her breath as I pushed my way passed her to get closer to the door to my plane, and the young man, maybe in his early twenties, from the front of the group saying something unintelligible as he moved out of my way.

The plane feels like an endless pit of odd colored seats as I try to push my way through the small pathway towards the back. The sound of unhappy passengers filled my ears as I finally settled into my seat two rows to the back. I was sitting in the isle seat, which meant I needed to be extra careful. Those flight attendants could never steer those beverage carts correctly and I usually walked off planes with bruised elbows.

It was a long flight. Thankfully I had fallen asleep in the first twenty minutes, however I wish I had been tired earlier. I really dislike take-off. The feeling of your insides being pushed to the back of your body really was unnerving. Like that feeling you get when you’re at a theme park, on those roller coasters that look like something from a video game; the design resembling that of something a reckless teenager would create.

I didn’t realize how lost in my own thoughts I was, because as soon as the buzzing around me began to speed up I was already in front of the small airport. It was drizzling, just like my mother had predicted, though I’d hardly call this a storm. Oregon was known for its constant lack of dry weather but that didn’t mean I was going to walk right into a storm. Or so I thought.

The time passing felt like hours, when it was maybe a few minutes. My sneakers soaked through. Making sloshing sounds as I shifted my weight with anxiety. The cold, soaking wetness I felt around my shoes didn’t make better for my shivering as I held my coat closer to me.

“Charlene?” My eyes turned to slits, gazing through the haze to see who called my name.

That’s when I noticed him.

Who could forget the awkward, and mysterious look to Mark? It wasn’t possible. Even at the age of twenty-six my uncle looked like he could pull off as my brother. Brown hair that was slightly curly to his cream-colored skin and thin figure. Mark could pull off as a high school student. I forced a smile as best I could. "Hi, Mark."

Mark pulled me into an awkward, one-armed hug, which I could have lived without. He was never one for small talk; it surprised me when he stood back and tucked his hands into his pockets and spoke.

“So, how was the flight? Was it okay? Bumpy? Did you want to grab your luggage from baggage claim, or maybe coffee? Do you even drink coffee?” He began to throw together. This made me chuckle. Something from his rambled questions made me think after a moment. Baggage claim. I had forgotten about that. "I forgot to get my suitcase." I admitted sheepishly. I thought I would leave out my trip on the plane, since I had fallen asleep anyway till landing. It’s not like there would be much to tell. Planes were large, crowded and sweaty. Like riding a large bus that flies, apart from the beverage carts. I don’t think I’d ever ride a bus again if that were the case. It was experience enough just flying on a plane. "Mary doesn't let me drink caffeine." I added after a moment, hoping he didn’t notice my distantness.

"Oh, right, no caffeine then, got it." Mark nodded; shifting on his heals a bit. "So uh...this is sufficiently awkward.”

"Just a bit." I smiled, even though it didn't reach my eyes. "I should probably go grab my suitcase before it lands itself in lost and found."

"Oh, right, that would probably be good.”

I followed Mark and small groups of people back into the airport, pushing our way to baggage claim seven. We stood there in almost awkward silence as I watched the other passengers, which were now fewer than there would have been if I had come here first thing. All of us were grouped around the baggage carousel, waiting for the marked bags to come around. I spotted my plain black suitcase with a sticker over the front pocket with Scooby-doo on it and quickly stepped forward pulling it off before it could go around again.
I really never understood the purpose of the luggage carousel. Some people had to stand there a good few rounds just to find or grab their luggage. Setting my suitcase on the slick, wet tile floor of the airport, I turned to Mark. "Got it."

"Good, wow, that's all you brought? Ok, well I guess that's good; want to get out of here? Airports aren't really that great; lots of…people. God you're tall." He said as he stared at me with a look of mild shock.

“I haven’t grown that much over the past two years...” I shifted my weight as Mark and I pushed through the crowded airport towards the front entrance. My bag was bumping lightly against my side as a small rush of air from the automatic sliding doors whooshed around me, swirling my hair around my face as I hugged my blazer closer to my body with my free arm. The weather had picked up, and was now coming down in large dumps of rain. I couldn’t tell what my face looked like to the onlooker. Maybe a mixture of distaste and constipation. My eyes were squinting, my lips pressed tightly together as I stopped at the curb of the sidewalk. “Where did you park?”

"Second story, row C, it was the closest I could get, do you want me to take your bag?"

"I got it."

"Ok." Mark nodded.

I stood there, looked slightly out of place as I looked in all directions. "I don't know where we're going."

"Just go straight until you see a green PT Cruiser."

When we reached the car, I stood awkwardly at the passenger side of his green PT Cruiser. My suitcase now safely tucked into his back seat as I waited for him to go around the other side and get in. It took me a moment to realize he was staring at me with a confused expression. "What?"

"Are you going to get in?" Mark asked with concern showing in his dark eyes. I must look very ridiculous right now. Standing outside the car door while he was sitting in the drivers seat with an odd look. He must think his sister raised a mental case. Without another thought, I pulled the Cruiser door open and slid myself in, shutting the door with an almost happy sigh. I was glad to be out of the rain.

"So um if you're hungry we can stop and get something, but if you're not we can go to the house."

I suddenly realized how hungry I was. The flight wasn't really that long, but since I had fallen asleep I hadn't eaten anything. “What’s there to eat?”

“Fast food?” It was around ten-thirty at night. What was I going to expect. Though the thought of food, even as my stomach grumbled in anticipation, made me feel nauseated. Perhaps I just wouldn’t eat tonight. I should get settled in before I even let myself down organic food elements. “I think I should just settle in, you know, wait till tomorrow? I ate a bunch of peanuts on the plane anyway.” I lied. However I didn’t want to worry Mark anymore that I probably was. Besides, he probably thought I was a mental case anyway. Must run in the family.

“Oh, okay…”

The rest of the car ride to Mark’s place was quiet. It was almost awkward silence but it was good enough for me. Talking wasn’t something I did much, especially within the family. Mark wasn’t much of a talker to begin with. I remember one year my parents and I had a family holiday. Mark came to visit us in Syracuse; he stayed two days. It’s not like our whole family was socially challenged. My mom Mary worked for the crime scene investigational unit so she interacted a lot within her department. As for my dad, well he was a photographer.

That’s how my parents met. My dad, Evan, was taking photos at the Amphitheatre in Thornden Park during the night parade. Mary was caught off guard when the flash of his camera had gone off while riding her bike across the grass with her friend Roger. According to my mother, when dad knelt next to her to see if she was okay, it was love at first sight. They were inseparable ever since. It wasn’t a fairytale beginning though. My grandparents, Mary’s parents, didn’t approve of her falling in love with such a man so young, especially a starting out photographer who was anything but high class. Mark, however, saw how happy she was. He was the most supportive. I believe I was born a while later. My grandparents seemed to mellow after I was conceived because they were more family orientated after that. My parents got married in a clearing, or a meadow or something. My parents exact words when they relived the memory of their wedding day, was it was magical.

When dad disappeared two years ago, my mom wasn’t the same. She engaged herself in her work, taking any means possible to do something besides sit in stillness. I could tell it was hard for her. Her mind was on over-drive; she got called in almost everyday, sometimes in the middle of the night. Living at home for me after that was like having my own place. I took the bus to school, I cooked my own food, and I rode my bike to the town when I needed something at the store. I even got a job at the local bookstore in town just so I could pass the time; the quiet was deafening and I needed to stay sane. My mother began to realize, as time rolled by, that we were becoming separate entities. I hardly knew who she was anymore, and I think it scared her. Two years had gone by, and she hardly noticed. I guess that’s how I ended up here in Portland. Mom didn’t think it was healthy, the way we were living, especially with her new case. I guess in a way, I understand why she does it. Sometimes…it seems like she’s trying to find him. Like how she never turns down a case. It’s like she’s trying…no…hoping, that it will lead her to him. That’s where we both shared our inner emotional battle. We wanted answers.

When we pulled up into the driveway, I couldn’t help but catch the glimpse of Mark’s facial expression. His eyes held his concern, and his confusion, even though he was trying to smile. The house was bigger than I expected it to be, for Mark anyway. He lived by himself, a writer. I never took time to read anything he'd ever written though. The rain didn't ease up. The sky poured buckets of the dirty, sucked up liquid down over the town as Mark shoved the key into the lock. My hands holding my suitcase to my chest as I tried to keep sheltered under the porch.

"So this is it," Mark said, pushing the door open to reveal a very small entryway. It was plain. Ordinary cream colored walls, a stairway, a kitchen, and living room; which is all I could see from where I stood. It wasn’t all that different in comparison to my home back in Syracuse. "There's a guest room, second door to the left upstairs, I can show you, here." He ushered me inside, shutting the door; the immediate change in temperature was welcomed. I followed him up the short flight of stairs. This wall was almost different shade of color compared to the entryway. It could have just been the lighting.

My feet padded along the wooden floorboards. Suitcase clutched in a death grip to my chest as my eyes lingered aimlessly on the creamy texture of the walls. We stopped in front of the second door on the right; a plain grain textured door leading into a fairly good-sized bedroom.

“Do you need anything else…I could make you some tea, or something?”

“I’m fine, Mark, really.” I couldn’t help but feel sorry for Mark. He was trying to be helpful when all I really wanted was to be alone and scream my head off. Sure, he was taking me in, doing my mother a favor. However I felt trapped. Like I didn’t have a choice. I’d make the best of it though, even if that meant wallowing in my free time, and doing all I could to survive the dreadful town of Portland. “Thank you.”

“If you need anything, I’m just down the hall.”

My fingers were numb, as I heard the door of my new bedroom close with an echoing only I could hear; my suitcase still in a death grip to my chest. I forced my legs to move as a sigh escaped my lips. There was a closet, a dresser, and a fairly good-sized bed with a blue down blanket that fitted around me nicely as I dropped to the bed, letting my mangled suitcase slide to the floor by my dangling feet. There was a window next to my bed, which was covered by light-blue horizontal blinds. They almost looked faded in the dim light of the bedroom. I can almost imagine the stars if I gazed out like back home. I remember dad and I would lie out back in pitch-black night, and look up at the stars. They were bright, and beautiful, each one unique. Just like us. My dad once said that when he died he wanted to become a star, so that he could light the darkness and shine down upon the worlds of the universe. He had an interesting and unique insight of life. I believe that’s what made him so likable. If you asked just about anyone to describe Evan Tanner in one word, it would be flamboyant, because when he was in a group of people he was the colorful ink to their empty canvas. His personality was kind but alluring. Dad made everyone’s lips curve into a smile, made every heart beat skip…he was the heart and soul of people. He showed it through his photographs. He captured the spirit of life, the beauty that gets hidden beneath the cloud of gray hemorrhaging across the planet catching the glimpses of light through the darkness. He was angelic.

I missed him.

I can feel my breath constrict in my lungs. Remember to breathe, I tell myself over and over again. I pushed myself back as far as I could until my head hit the soft pillows of the bed. The pattering of the rain against the window began to echo all to loud within the room and I closed my eyes, trying to drown myself in the remembrance of the summers of Syracuse.

+++

When I opened my eyes, there was light pouring through my bedroom in lines. I pushed myself off the bed still in my clothes I’d arrived in and stood by the window. Two of my fingers pushed down a few of the blinds to stare out into the now sunny morning. I don’t even remember falling asleep. There was a knock on my door and I turned my head as I let go of the blinds to cross my arms over my chest. “Charlene?”

“Yeah?” wow, I sound like crap

. I cleared my throat, my hand reaching up to rub the sleep from my eyes as Mark stood outside my door awkwardly. What is he doing? “You can come in, Mark.”

Mark opened the door, slowly I might add as if he were afraid if he opened it too fast a skeleton would pop out at him and he’d go running down the hall screaming like a girl. Now that would be more entertaining than standing door man here. I chuckled lightly to myself.

“What’s funny?”

“Oh, just a passing thought, sorry.” I couldn’t help the grin still plastered to my lips as I stood before Mark with my arms now hanging at my side.

“Did you sleep well?” He asked in that awkward, trying to hard tone. I shifted my weight as I leaned towards the floor to pick up my suitcase from the floor where I left it the following night and placed it on my bed. I spoke as I unzipped my belongings and flipped open the top to shift through my things.

“I don’t remember.” And that was the truth. I must have though, because I don’t even remember dreaming. I remember thinking about mom and dad, and then the stars. It was like once I shut my eyes, I woke up to the light of a new day.

“Are you sure?” the tone in his voice let me know he didn’t believe me.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Well…” He looked like he was about to say something. Like it was just, choking to get out. Instead his words seemed to fall back into his throat and he shut his mouth shaking his head. “Nevermind.”

“Um, where’s the bathroom?” I hadn’t changed from my clothes the night before, and I smelled like a musty set of laundry left out in an overnight summer rainstorm.

“Across the hall.”

He left my room after that, leaving me to unpack my things and grab a change of clothes and head to the bathroom with my shampoo and conditioner. The bathroom was pretty good sized as well, with a large mirror and a bathtub shower combination. I pulled back the curtain and turned the shower knob to set the water to warm. I placed my shampoo and conditioner on the side of the tub and pulled my musty clothes off with my sneakers and black socks, setting them in a pile on the floor before I pulled the shower tab on and stepped in.

The shower was quick. I didn’t want to waste a lot of water even though I probably would have rather lived in the shower for the next seven months rather than remind myself where I am. I towel dried my hair followed by the rest of my body before tugging my clean clothes on and gathering my dirty, musty ones and bringing them back into my room. When my hair was brushed and pulled back into a ponytail I made my way downstairs.

Mark was at the kitchen table with his laptop, typing away. He was wearing a plain green t-shirt, with dark denim jeans and boots. His hair was frizzled like usual and perched on his nose were plain dark rimmed glasses. He glanced up at me briefly before looking back at the screen.

“Are you hungry?”

My stomach answered the question with a loud gurgle-like sound, which caused us both to chuckle. Mark had set out a box of cereal and a bowl on the counter, which I gladly poured and began to scarf down. There was a comforting silence, only broken by the sound of the laptop keys clicking in rhythm. It was now that I was able to take in the surrounding area in the light. His kitchen was very nice. Marble granite counter tops with a stainless steal sink, and mahogany cabinets and drawers. The floor was hardwood with almost a glossy glimmer to it in the light. There was a dishwasher that looked like it was brand new and never used. When I finished my cereal I got up and put the dishes in the sink and started cleaning them.

“Where do you put these?” I wasn’t about to play guess what’s behind door number three.

Mark took a moment before tearing his gaze away from his laptop to stare at me. His eyes turned to the now clean bowl and spoon in my hands and then back up at my face. I couldn’t tell if he thought I was crazy or considerate for washing my own dishes, but his facial features seemed to change into recognition as he looked to the side of me. “Just put them in the dishwasher.” He told me.

“But they’re already clean.”

“Oh, it’s alright, the dishwasher isn’t used for cleaning, I rarely need it on my own so I just place the dishes I use and clean in there, for storage.” He explained. I really don’t understand his logic, but I opened up the dishwasher anyway and placed the bowl on the top rack with the others, sliding the spoon into the utensil rack. I closed the dishwasher and leaned against the counter. I really didn’t know what to do now. Portland was new to me, and I didn’t know my way around. Perhaps I could just go to a movie, but I didn’t know where I would go for that. Mark must have noticed my train of thought had trailed because he was giving me that concerned look again, like last night. Maybe he did think I was a mental case. Or perhaps just a lost puppy stranded on an island surrounded by water, trapped with nowhere to go.

“Have you called Mary, yet?”

Shoot. I completely forgot to call my mother when I arrived in Portland. If I called now, either she would be extremely upset and worried, or she would have completely forgotten as well. After all, she was practically her work on two legs. I saw Mark give me a small nod, as if realizing my forgetfulness and stood up. My eyes followed him as he moved across the kitchen disappearing into the hallway. Supposing I should follow him I pushed from the counter and made my way out of the kitchen in the same directional way he did. The downstairs hallway was just like bedroom and the entryway. With the same cream colored walls that held nothing on them, following the same open but bland setting that most of the house so far seemed to hold. I noticed as I walked along the hallway that there were two other doors and a main back room that looked almost like a second living room except the back wall was all glass windows. It was almost too open.

To my left was the first door, leading into a downstairs bathroom, it was smaller than the one upstairs and the coloring was different. It held the same faded blue texture that my bedroom blinds did. The small counter top was rounded with a small sink and mirror. There was a shower in the corner next to the toilet but it wasn’t a duo. It was just a plain glass door shower that had a small rise from the floor by about two or three inches. The floor was tile, instead of the hardwood, and there wasn’t a window.

Down a few more feet from the bathroom was the second door. This one was open and it seemed to be giving off some light. I padded along down the hallway and peered into the room. This must be Mark’s office, or his writing space, because it had a desk, and papers were piled around the desk with pens and CD-ROMs. There was a flash drive sitting on the nearest pile of papers and folders, next to a set of keys, which I’m guessing were to Mark’s car. Perched on a shorter shelf-like part of the desk, was a flat screen monitor, tilted slightly to the right. On the floor by the foot of the desk was the computer, which was making a low hissing noise. I’m guessing it was a skuzzy drive because it makes the noises in a weird pattern every so often.

In the corner of the room was a six-drawer cabinet, with a lamp and desk calendar. Next to that was a landline phone. Mark was standing next to the cabinet with the receiver in his hand. I took a step into the room as he turned towards me and took the phone as he held it out.

“I’m sure Mary won’t be that hard on you for not calling, I’ll be in the kitchen.” I dialed the number as he left. Placing the receiver to my ear while the dialing tone echoed in my eardrums. I took a seat in the vinyl desk chair as I waited for my mother to pick up her cell phone. I pushed my feet against the floor panels, pushing myself back and forth in a half circle.

“Detective Turner.”

“Mom, it’s me.”

“Charlie, you didn’t call last night.” Her voice changed from Detective to mother tone, which I didn’t know if I should be happy or nervous about. I could hear the buzz of the overhead light from the lab through the phone, so I knew she was at work. I wonder how much sleep she’s gotten, or if she ever leaves the office anymore. I could hear her sigh through the phone and I imagined her placing her hand to her forehead, possibly rubbing the exhaustion from her eyes. “How’s Portland?”

“Wet.” I replied with distaste. “I haven’t really been out of the house yet, it’s still morning mom.”

“Right, sorry. How is Mark, did he pick you up on time at the airport?”

“Yeah. He did.” I said, trying to sound as enthusiastic as possible. “He’s working on his computer in the kitchen.”

“That’s good.” She sounded distant. It makes me wonder if she is even paying attention. Her mind is probably trailing off into work still. That’s how Mary is, her work takes up more time in her brain then eating or sleeping would. “Well thank you for calling Charlie, I have some work to do so I’ll call you tomorrow. I love you, Charlie, have a good day.”

“You too…” I heard the dead dial tone before I could even get the words out. I sighed. Standing up from the chair to hang the phone up and walk back to the kitchen. This may as well be an enjoyable experience, seeing as I’ll be here for quite a while. At least Mark will be around. It won’t be like living on my own anymore, or maybe it will. He wasn’t as quiet as I expected, but he wasn’t all that communal either.

“How’s Mary?”

“Working herself to death. What’s new?” I said with a sardonic twist in my tone. Mark noted my tone and frowned.

“Mary always did work herself to an extreme.” Mark replied with cautiousness that I gathered to be because he thought I might snap at him. He cleared his throat, dropping his hands to his lap as he shifted in his chair to face me. “Do you want to go somewhere? Get out of the house…”

I suppose, it wouldn’t really hurt. “Do you have a bookstore anywhere around here?” This seemed to strike his mood. His lips curved into a smug grin and he huffed a laugh.

“Is there a bookstore around here, of course there’s a bookstore in Portland, come on I’ll take you.” I watched in utter amusement at Marks enthusiastic dancing stride to grab his coat. My uncle was a writer, of course he would know if there were books near by. Oh, the underestimated Mark Mathews at his happiest. I could have rolled my eyes if I didn’t think he would do a trick the way he was bolting around the house for his keys and wallet. I trudged upstairs to pull my converse from my suitcase and a pair of low-cut forest green socks and slipped them on. With one last glance around the room I tucked my own wallet into my jeans pocket before pulling a sweater on and made my way back down the stairs to my uncle Mark, the blissful.

II.

The bookstore was in downtown Portland, some place called Powell’s. It was a fairly good bookstore from the looks of it. There were people coming in every direction. Mark parked outside on the street two storefronts away from Powell’s. The sun was shinning down on Portland as we got out of the cruiser and made our way down the semi-busy sidewalk to the front entrance of the bookstore. A cute welcome sign was taped to the left window as we walked in.

At the front counter on the right was a petite woman with short straight brown hair cropped to just above her shoulders, helping an elderly man with his purchase. Behind him was a young woman with blonde hair that splayed out along her mid-back, with a little girl holding a rather large book to her chest that covered half of her face, the woman’s hand perched on the girl’s shoulder. The little girl couldn’t have been a day over seven.

The store was littered with shelves full of books. I didn’t even know where to begin searching. There wasn’t much I could do about time, but I could skim the shelves for possibly anything that might pull my interest. I walked toward the second shelf to the left. Mark seemed to be occupied by the mere image of the science fiction section. The shelf was littered with terrifying, out of this world graphic type covers. It wouldn’t hurt to let him browse a while on his own, while I press onward without him near the fantasy romance section, would it? I didn’t think so anyway, after all he was a writer and a writer could entertain themselves in their own world.

My eyes delicately graced over the many covers of the books before me. Not much caught my interest to my dismay. There were romances, and fantasy novels of princesses and young maidens who fall in love with a young man who sweeps them up and carries them off into the sunset or the dawn of a new day. Such stories never end well for those in the reality of such a situation. Relationships were for the weak. Those who could not stand to be on their own so they rush off as soon as they find someone who will fall just as much into a love type of relationship and go off and marry so they can live happily ever after with their two kids and mortgage payments. Taxes and bills to skyrocket beyond their income and leave them soon over years to be stranded in a sewer somewhere in the deep dark city living off trash and skewered rats. Then again, that could just be the bitterness of my stay in Portland after all.

With a long deep sigh I grazed through the many covers along the first two or three racks, pondering why there aren’t any more interesting tales that someone like myself could read. That’s when I saw it. The distinguished looking cover caught my eye like a magnet. It wasn’t very flashy but the contrast of orange, red and black with large print caught my interest. I picked up the book and gazed at the lettering. ‘Angels & Demons’ by Dan Brown. I don’t know why this made me curious but it did. I ignored the buzzing around me as I flipped the book around to read the synopsis of the book. ‘When world-renowned Harvard symbologist Robert Langdon is summoned to a Swiss research facility to analyze a mysterious symbol -- seared into the chest of a murdered physicist -- he discovers evidence of the unimaginable: the resurgence of an ancient secret brotherhood known as the Illuminati... the most powerful underground organization ever to walk the earth. The Illuminati has surfaced from the shadows to carry out the final phase of its legendary vendetta against its most hated enemy... the Catholic Church.’

Now there was a story summary.

“Do you like stories of angels and demons with tragic storylines?” The sudden company beside me surprised me as I looked up from the book in my hands. A boy around sixteen or seventeen stood beside me with his hands in his pockets. His raven hair and deep brown eyes gazed at me with a toothy smile. He was wearing a long sleeve knit shirt with medium blue denim jeans that fit him nicely. I tried not to look too awkward as I straightened myself up and shifted my weight to my left so I could face him more accordingly.

“I don’t really know, I haven’t really read one before.” I answered truthfully. “Unless you count the bible.” I added with a small smile. He seemed to note the added comment in his mind with amusement because his brow raised and his smile grew.

“I guess it depends.” He said smugly. “I’m Conner O’Connor.”

Now didn’t that just catch the tongue? With the book still in hand I turned fully to face him and couldn’t hide the amusement in my own facial features. “Conner O’Connor?” He gave a droll chuckle that caused me to blush slightly.

“Yes.” Conner raised his brows a bit more, with a look of waiting patience. He probably wanted my name as well. That would be rude of me not to answer seeing as he had so formally introduced himself.

“I’m Charlie Tanner.”

“It’s nice to meet you Charlie Tanner.” I admit I was surprised. I’ve met a many people before who’ve asked about my choice for a nickname. Charlie was after all, a boy’s name. Though I look nothing like a boy, I much rather be called Charlie than Charlene. It sounded to adult for a teenager. I think Charlie fits me just fine.

“You too.” I replied with a small smile. “Do you live in Portland?”

“I do.” He seemed cordial about it too; unlike myself who would rather be back at home in Syracuse, enjoying the country air. “I live over on Hawthorne Terrace, kind of near the Reservoir.”

“Really? There’s a reservoir?” He seemed to give me a strange look and I couldn’t help but blushed slightly at my ignorance of the place I was currently in. It’s not like I did research before I got here. Truthfully I didn’t even know what street Powell’s was located on.

“You don’t live around here, do you?” By the sound of it he was more stating the obvious rather than asking a question.

“No, I just moved here temporarily from New York.” I wasn’t much of a city girl, so I probably came off as an odd ball to a city boy like him. “I’m staying with my Uncle Mark over on Montgomery Place.” He seemed surprised I’d even known the street I lived on currently and to be quite frank so was I, however Mark didn’t let me forget it incase I got lost and needed to get home somehow with a map or a taxi or something to that effect.

“Charlene! I found this really cool book…” Both Conner and I turned towards Mark as he came dashing up with some large book on some artist. I couldn’t catch the title but I could tell by the size and the painting on the front cover that it was something to do with art or something. Conner immediately put his hand out as Mark stood before us, mouth open mid sentence.

“Hello, I’m Conner O’Connor.” Conner smiled that gracing smile which snapped Mark’s own mouth shut. Mark took Conner’s hand, shaking it while his own lips turned up in a slight smile.

“Mark, I’m Charlene’s Uncle.” He said while letting Connors hand go.

“Nice to meet you.” I couldn’t grasp Mark’s almost stunned reaction. But he seemed pleased that I met someone already. Mark placed his hand back on the side of the book with a slight nod.

“You’re first day in Portland, and you already made a friend.” Mark said with what seemed like a pleased look. “It’s nice to meet you Conner, are you…Serene and Anton’s son?”

“I am.” Conner’s smile grew. I felt like I was missing out on something. Then again, I was new here so I wouldn’t be surprised if everyone else knew each other when I didn’t. “You know my parents?”

“Of course, they run the best coffee shop near the west side of town.” Mark smiled. “How are they?”

“They’re doing good, working the store as we speak.” Connor smiled before turning his hand to his pocket and pulling out a cell phone, which began ringing once it neared his vision. “Hello? I’ll be there soon Mom, bye.” He hung the phone up and gave me a smile. “Well, Charlie, work calls, I’ll hopefully catch you again soon?” He asked with a hopeful smile.

“Oh…sure.” I replied as he said goodbye to Mark and made his way towards the exit. I stared off at him as he disappeared around the corner. When I turned my eyes back to my uncle, Mark was smiling smugly. “What?” I asked with a defensive tone, blushing slightly as his brow rose.

“Nothing.” He chuckled, his expression now amused at my reaction. I pushed passed him towards the counter that was now empty and set the book upon the counter just as Mark caught up to me. He set his book on the counter as well, the clerk ringing them up as I began to reach for my wallet in my pocket, but Mark held up his hand. “No, no. I got this one.” He said as he handed the clerk a twenty. “Keep the change.” He told her while he grabbed the books and handed me the book I found earlier. It was then, as we walked back out to the car that he noticed the book in my hands. “Angels and Demons?” I could tell it struck his curiosity as to why I had chosen such a book.

“Uh, yeah, just thought it looked like an interesting book.” I replied while pulling open the cruiser door. Mark stood on the sidewalk looking at me, as I was about to get into the vehicle. “What?”

“So, you and Conner seem to have gotten along.” He smirked, walking around to the driver’s side of the cruiser. “He’s cute too.” He added as he got in, causing me to roll my eyes; hopping into the passengers seat was like taking a seat to my doom ride back to the house. Mark didn’t stop pestering me with questions of what Conner and I talked about, if I was going to hang out with him again.

“I don’t even know him, Mark.” I said, making an attempt to drop the subject.

“We could stop at the shop and say hello.” He said, causing me to turn to him with a look of disbelief.

“What? Why?”

“If you don’t want to, that’s fine, Charlene.” Finally! He was going to drop it. “You’ll probably see him at school Monday anyway.” School, I had just about forgotten about that completely. I was going to be transferring into a new school, here in Portland. Something I wasn’t looking forward too. That meant new friends, and new faces I’d have to fear for the sake of being new myself. Portland was looking worse each moment passing. I didn’t want to go to school; I was content with my school back home. At least I knew everyone. I grew up in Syracuse, including growing up with the kids in my classes who mostly lived nearby. This was going to be a long year.

+++

The weekend passed all too quickly. Mark took out to a few stores to get supplies for school like paper, pencils…I almost expected him to ask if I wanted rulers, binders, and a bib. The feeling of going out for school supplies with Mark was close to a five-year old getting set up for their first day of first-grade.

I don’t know. All I know is that now I stand amidst the most crowded school I have seen in…well that I’ve ever seen period. All of this school would probably fit ten of mine. Back home, we didn’t worry about seating arrangements or parking or being at the front early to get inside first because there were so little group to a classroom. This place was just outright overpopulated. It’s ridiculous.

“Charlene, are you alright?” I heard Marks voice warily cut through the silence outstretching the space around us. My poor Uncle; I wondered if he was just as worried as I right now about me being sucked into that tornado parade of students and faculty.

My stomach suddenly gave a small lurch, my grip tightening on the strap of my bag. “I think I’m going to revisit breakfast soon.” I replied as a sudden wave of nausea hit me once again. I really didn’t want to go, but I knew I had no other choice. I had to finish school. I needed to get the credits if I had any intention of attending college. Besides, Mark’s done so much for me with so little knowledge on how to go about raising a teenager and running life with another person in his space… I just couldn’t let him down. So I took a breath of the warm air in the cruiser and then stepped out into the whirlpool of chaos.

III.

The halls of Portland high were ridiculous; it was absolute chaos amidst many other things. Who knew this day could go from unnerving and crazy to worse than worse. It was outright troublesome. Kids were lined up against the locker walls with less room in the actual hallway itself. Like the gates of hell opened and poured out a mass amount of people and shoving them all in a worse cell, called a school. I didn’t know how close to truth I was.

I pushed my way through the crowd of students; they seemed to be making an attempt to consume me the deeper within the depths of the school hallway I got. I felt like I was being sucked into a vortex. Stupid vortex of sweaty, perfume drenched, arrogant looking people. The sudden feeling of being stared at by a piercing gaze caused me to dip into the first door to my right. As soon as I closed the door I noticed an odd assortment of bottles and rags and boxes.

Great. I just landed myself in a maintenance closet. I waited in there, leaning against the door until I heard the bustling out in the hall slowly begin to fade. A buzzing sounded out in the halls and I supposed it was the first bell. I was just about to open the door when it flung open, leaving me stumbling out into the bright hallway.

“Oh!” I bit my lip, a wave of embarrassment flushed through me as the janitor looked down at me, his brows turned down. “I-I’m sorry, I was…”

The mans thin lips turned up in a welcoming smile which for an odd reason seemed to calm my nerves and out of instinct I returned it. He seemed to understand without me saying anything and he gave me a curt nod. “First day.” I said a bit nervously, still embarrassed about being found hiding in the closet. I moved myself around his space and moved further out into the hall giving him one more smile before I hurriedly made my way down to find the office.

The office was pretty much three of the ones back in Syracuse; there was a large waiting area for students, separated by a stand for what looked like magazines. As I sat down and waited for the secretary to be done with the other student she was speaking too, I reached down and grabbed one of the magazines. Education weekly. Hmm, well wasn’t that a read. I flipped through it absently, not really paying any attention to it, as I was busy trying to strain to listen to the conversation ahead of me. The secretary was speaking to the student, a boy, not as tall as most but a fairly good size for any high school male, with deep sandy brown hair. He was sporting a black woolen coat with black gloves and two types of plaid scarves followed by tan slacks and what I could only describe as what looked like black Dockers, or whatever those type of shoes were that rich kids wore.

For a moment I thought I saw a mild red cloud surrounding him but hadn’t the chance to observe it any further for the boy turned his gaze towards me and I quickly pretended to be deep in the magazine I had still opened across my lap. I held my gaze to the same page intently until I heard the woman behind the desk ask if she could assist me. I set the magazine back down on the small table and stood up with my back around me shoulder. The boy was no longer in the office and I took a deep breath as I moved towards the counter. A sudden chill ran up my spine as I stepped where the boy had just been. As if I had just stepped into one of the winter storms we had back home.

“Can I help ye’ miss?”

“Yes, I’m new here and I don’t know where I’m supposed to go.” I said dumbly. I was a lost cause, really. In a place like this I was an ant trying not to be squished by the big bad feet moving around carrying the large beings trying to step on you or worse kill you with their deadly ‘spray in a bottle’.

“Are ye’ miss Tanner?”

“Hmm? Oh, yes, Charlene Tanner.” I said absently as I finally looked up to take in the woman’s appearance up close. She was a fare-skinned woman, probably in her upper twenties. Messes of dark mahogany curls were pinned up terribly neat atop her small-framed head. She was rather delicate looking, long womanly fingers gracing perfect wrists and a very proportioned body. The only major flaw I could find was a small scar tracing lightly over the small delicate nap of her neck. I wouldn’t have noticed it had she not moved her face to her right, putting it planning out for me to make out. My brow furrowed a bit and I had to tear my eyes away when she turned back to me, a friendly smile gracing her pink lips. She seemed to be a very humble soul. Much like my father…I felt my chest tighten slightly and I grabbed onto the side of the counter tightly.

Don’t think about that now, that’s not what he’d want.

“Miss? Miss Tanner are ye’ ill?” The woman has a very different accent I noticed then. I hadn’t picked up on it before... it was faintly foreign; I felt like I’d heard it once before.

“Miss Tanner!” I suddenly looked up at the woman and then down at my hands. My knuckles were white, and I had the counter in a death grip. But that wasn’t the worst part, as I lifted my hands away from the counter I noticed my fingers left a faint dent in the wood. Confused and a little embarrassed I glanced up at the woman, wondering if she too was staring at my odd occurrence of strength lodged into the woodwork of the high top desk she ran. However her eyes were plastered to my face, looking at me with concern.

“I’m sorry, what were you saying?” I tried to turn any possible conversion towards what just occurred away. I did not feel like trying to explain something I myself did not understand. She seemed to take note of that in my quivering tone and immediately began blustering over papers. She explained about a map of the school in case I got myself lost, along with my class schedule for this semester and a list of the books I needed checked out at the library.

“If ye’ need anything miss, doona be hesitatin’ in stopping by my desk.” She smiled at me with warmth, as like the janitor had. It calmed my nerves once more and I felt a quiet form of relaxation wash over me causing me to smile at her as well.

“Thank you…” I lingered in my response for it dawned on me I did not know her name. But her smile seemed to just grow even more and she placed her hand over mine for a brief second in a friendly and comforting gesture, which I welcomed. She must be a very family orientated person.

“The names Gwen. Gwendolyn McKleellan.” McKleellan…I’d heard that name before, but where? “Ye’ best be getting to class miss, ya doona wantin to be missin anything on ye’r first day!” She bustled me out of the office with a smile and determination and I found myself in the hallways of the school once again.


My entire body felt weak as I stepped into the first classroom on my list. Thankfully, as I entered, the teacher didn’t make a fuss about my being new and I found my seat in the back row. This was Economics class. Like I needed anymore about the subject in my brain however I didn’t fuss about my subjects for some I hadn’t learned yet but had been wanting too. It paid off being an AP student sometimes. Though I’m beginning to believe those who are blind to the world around them and get locked into only their work like mom, become androgynous, neutral to all of life beside them. They depend on only themselves and their instinct to do the same routine over and over again. It’s depressing, and sad.

So AP student or not, I need to make sure my life doesn’t ever turn into living at work, ignoring my life, and succumbing to depression. I was already feeling a bit depressed, but it was just the bitterness I felt from being away from home, moms pain mixed with my own, and missing dad.

The entire day went by faster than I expected. I didn’t talk to anyone unless I needed too, I had all my assignments written out and placed on separate pages in the notebook and I now sat in the lunchroom, which actually had a back patio area that went into a courtyard where most people were sitting. I took the small bag of cereal I had grabbed at Mark’s earlier this morning and walked outside. The place really was big…

Among the many things I was comparing in this school to my own back home, this was one of the ones that could outdo probably every school in Syracuse. There weren’t many besides the daycare and minor younger schoolyards. There was large pottery planters scattering some of the closest parts of the courtyard, scattered around them were a good amount of chattering students. The trees weren’t as brilliant as I would have thought though; a few were but by the far side of the courtyard one of the trees looked almost dead. Sad and dead…

Surrounding the square planter were a few students, and for an instant I caught sight of the boy from the office, however my eyes were more fixated on the strange looking cloud surrounding a few of them; Odd reds and almost…black? My brows knitted together as one of them turned towards me, the one from the office. His eyes locked with mine, like he knew

what I was seeing, like he knew I was looking at them, or through them. Or maybe that’s just how I was feeling. Did he have to stare at me like that? It caused a shiver to travel up my spine.

“Charlie Tanner.” I yanked my gaze away from the cold intense stare and gladly turned my eyes towards Connor who was now standing beside me. Today he was dressed differently than at the bookstore days ago. He was sporting a very plain dark gray sweater with an odd blue colored shirt and light denim jeans. I didn’t pay attention to his footwear today. He clicked his tongue as he spoke again, bringing my attention back to his face. “I am in two of your classes and you still have yet to notice me. I don’t know if I should feel offended or concerned.”

My cheeks burned slightly and I readjusted my bag on my shoulder and decided to tuck the cereal away for another time. I wouldn’t be eating it soon it seemed. “Sorry.” I glanced at him apologetically. I was so lost in thought most of the day. I hadn’t noticed anyone or anything if I didn’t have to. “I’ve been a bit overwhelmed with everything going on…” I trailed off, not really wanting to give excuses even though it wasn’t a complete lie. It was in fact one of the reasons I’d been so spacey today.

His lips turned up into that friendly smile I remembered from the bookstore. I forced a smile in return, hoping Connor didn’t find my attention too drawn out. My eyes had seemingly found their way back to the group by the dead tree. Once again, my expression turned to dismay. Connor’s eyes seemed to follow my gaze. He drew out a short breath, sardonic to say the least. “You know them?” I held nothing back from my tone of voice. I was curious. Far more for my own good Gran would say.

“Everyone knows them. And if you’re smart you won’t get involved with them.” Connor’s tone changed. I couldn’t quite register it though. When my eyes moved over the boy from the office, I felt an odd sensation as he blazed a sudden surge of reds and the poor tree seemed to willow away even more as I watched them messing around on the planter. “That’s Rex Pharr. He’s not a force to be reckoned with, Charlie.” His tone turned suddenly serious. I turned my gaze away from the now cold stare Rex Pharr was shooting towards me and replaced my eyes on Connor. His face matched his voice, serious, the smile that he so easily wore was now inexistent, and his eyes hard. A wave of nausea came over me and I cringed slightly as a brush of cold, emptiness passed around us. Connor seemed to tense a bit and I barely glanced up to see Rex and the others backs descending from our site into the building. God, what is going on?

“Charlie?” Connor’s hand grazed over my shoulder and I immediately stepped back, standing straight up. He retracted his hand reluctantly and stayed where he stood, caution was staining his features. I feel bad. Everyone has been dealing with my odd mood swings and yep, I believe now Mark and Connor think I am a complete mental case. Hell! The poor secretary Gwen was nice enough not to give me the look Mark and Connor gave me in my now strange swings.

I rubbed a hand over my eyes and readjusted my bag once more. The bell had already buzzed, though I did not hear it. For the courtyard was practically empty now and I sighed a bit. Great, so now my life was going to turn into the twilight zone, or worse, that stupid religious movie ‘Left Behind’. I remember the books. Connor apparently had been speaking because when I glazed at him, his lips were moving. Dammit! Why couldn’t I just pay attention? I might as well have ‘Hey! Abduct me aliens!’ on my back for I could be sucked up by my brain into space and shuttled off and I probably wouldn’t notice for a while. UGH! Charlie focus!

“…So if you want you can come by the shop and I am sure my mother will give you a job off the bat. Or hustle you off towards her many prized collection of books.” He finished. I stared at him as if pretending I had been paying attention this whole time, however I hadn’t been and I am pretty freaking sure he noticed. He smiled a bit and chuckled, shaking his head at me. I frowned a bit. “Okay, I can see I should make this easier for you to catch up.”

I opened my mouth to defend myself when he raised a hand to stop my intended reply and I pursed my lips together. How rude! “Would you like a part-time job while you are here?” He raised his brows a bit in anticipation. He obviously thought it a good idea. “At the café?

My mouth moved before I could. I found nothing wrong with a part-time job whilst here in Portland. I had one back home at a bookstore so I was good with a cash register and receipt book. I loved books so that was a plus. I gave him a smile, my mood changing immediately. “Of course, yeah. I would love to come check it out.”

“Good, then after last period. I’ll meet you out front.” I didn’t get a chance to reply. He was already descending into the school building, leaving me standing in the courtyard. Alone. Well, might as well make an effort here…

+++

The last few classes of the day seemed to drag on and I had to force myself to pay attention during English AP for there was an essay on Shakespeare which we were reading, Hamlet or something. I really should have been paying more attention. I was standing outside the school now. I dialed Mark’s number in the office after the bell rang to let him know I was going to the café with Connor, for I had yet to charge my cell since I’d arrived. It was still in the front pocket of my suitcase. It wasn’t very long that I stood in the front of the school for Connor found me quickly and we headed down the block towards the café. It wasn’t a very long walk since the school was close by his parent’s coffee shop. It was a rather fine looking building on the west side of the city, and it wasn’t just any coffee shop. As soon as I walked in I was breathless. It was filled with books. I loved books. I wanted to own my own bookstore filled with my collection of favorite authors and titles someday. Books were an escape into a world not your own. A life not your own, a chance to look through someone else’s eyes and live through another.

I found myself admiring the covers of the books to the left of the shop near the counter. It was a very strong collection of titles. Ancient bound covers and new age paper and hardbacks. My fingers grazed over them with yearning.

“Are these all the books your parents have read?” There was no way of hiding my enthusiasm and excitement. It caused Connor to laugh, not hiding the smile that was now plastered to his face.

His eyes were bright as he gazed at me. “Actually most of these books are collections past down through our generations. Some are from my parents, others from my grandparents, great ancestors and myself.”

Wow. Ancestors. Most of these books must have been over a hundred or even a thousand years old. Some, on the very top shelf away from the others looked so frail. If someone were to even touch them they would most likely collapse into a heap of dust. Never to be read again. It was exciting. We gained an audience as a woman came into the front from the back of the café, helping a customer who’d just stepped up to the counter. She was a fairly thin woman, in her thirties perhaps, but not model thin. She looked healthy. Long wavy black hair falling around her shoulders, framing her bright featured face. She wore English slacks, a deep brown, with a snazzy black button-up top. There was a very humble appearance to her and I turned my gaze to Connor who smiled a bit at the woman and then turned the smile towards me. I returned it naturally. “Is that your mother?”

“Yes, Serene O’Connor. She’s a very eccentric character.” Connor looked back at his mother who was now finished up with the customer, who was now picking through the books carelessly I might add. Books should be handled with more care, what was that man doing! You don’t just toss a book down like that on a table you should set it down with grace and…

“Hello! You must be Charlie, Connor told me you were coming.” Mrs. O’Connor came around the counter as some point, I don’t know when but she was no standing in front of Connor and I with an expectant and friendly expression. Her English accent was light and her words lucid. I smiled nervously, now having to force it out for I felt like once again, I missed something. “Oh um, yes.”

“Brilliant, I also hear you have been recruited by my son to help out here in the shop!” She said brightly. Wow, this woman was vibrant. Much like my father. Not many flamboyant people in the world but apparently I found yet a second one in my life. I nodded slightly as she now led me around the café, explaining things to me and greeting customers and such. By the time she was done I was sitting behind the counter, watching the people on the sidewalks outside passing by and some looking in briefly before walking on. I’d come to find out that Connors parents were explorers, adventurists who loved to travel and collect the ancient bindings around the world. Adding them to the family collection passed down through generations. She found it rather exciting to live such a life. If only I could…

Time passed rather quickly for my taste and I soon found myself lingering among the many books. They were fairly interesting. For I had not particularly read much since I’d arrived. Angels & Demons was still lying amongst the full bed in the guest room I was staying in; well, so much for non-changeable habits.

I found a few books among the many bindings and decided to make a small list of things to read during the days I would work here. I cannot remember all of the titles now, but I did remember sitting down behind the counter a few nights later with one of the eldest books of the collection. It was an ancient binding in which I found to be delicate but extraordinary at the same time. By the time it hit five-o’clock it was already dark in the skies and I was practically alone in the shop. A few customers were coming and going and one of the regulars, Scotty -who was one of the Westside of Portland’s best mechanics- ordered and sat by the window for about twenty minutes reading the newspaper before getting up and heading out.

I dare say that I watched the night grow darker outside my head every night for the next week. Even now I felt as if I was barely watching the world go on around me, for my own eyes were formidably glued to the binding in front of me. Service was truly slow tonight and it was a Thursday. I hadn’t started my shift long before the last customer had come and gone and I was very seriously glued to the pages within the binding. It was ancient, almost archaic lexis lined the cover. But the magic poetic voice to the pages I read was what caught me.

‘With wings like and angel would you fly over the sea, or travel in silence over a warm summer breeze? With wings like a demon would your fire stay true, of a heart that once caring, caved dark, sad and blue? Of a war so forgotten many years past, the humans rise on fallen, growing dare say fast. Of the golden city gates and the fiery city reds, of a heart filled of hope and a heart filled of dread. One will lead the fallen, of those angels that hath fell, to change not the life of then but the life of now…’

Hmm. That is an interesting bit of poetry. Though I cannot tell if it is or not it sure had a varied sound. Dad would probably know more on it, or maybe his friend from down the street. Hedry Froy was dad’s good friend; he was a big Shakespeare fan and such. He always had some form of play or poem to bring along and read during holidays.

Mom thinks he’s kooky.

He probably wouldn’t be any help from across the country. If only I could get my hands on dads contact book in his top drawer in the office.

Like that would happen right now…

The sudden taste of bitter coffee touched my tongue as I inhaled the air and a wave of nausea; Hand against the counter. Cramp…then it disappeared. Just like that. It felt like someone was watching me from the direction of the front door. I couldn’t look up though; instead I decided to call it a night for now. I closed up 10 minutes later, the nausea and the prickling feeling of being watched now gone.

You’re just jumpy from the reading, and thinking about Dad.

Was I? Was it really just the dwelling thoughts on the script from the book or was it dad…or was it that something or someone was watching you from outside

. No, it’s just the night. I told myself. Skateboard in hand. Mark expected me home soon, since I called not long ago from inside.

But it wasn’t home.

Syracuse is home. Back east with Mom…and Dad.

But dad wasn’t there. Mom was hardly home. So wasn’t this better? Someone to go home too, who asked how your day was and attempted to make chicken Parmesan without burning the house down?

It’s better than no home at all.

I reminded myself, taking off to Marks…and I suppose now my, home.


In the distance beyond the window, an Angel sent from the High Court of Light and a Demon once reborn into the Dark Court of Old, stood in a silence. One knew not of the others existence in this particular time, however the other knew full well of the others proximity and all alerts in his head were up. The human girl lying in her bed beyond the other side of that glass was the most important thing to both their worlds. As protector of the human, it was the Angels duty to always look after her well being, however now as he looks upon the demon that is oblivious to both their existence he realized that father time is about to strike the first chime on the girls birthing hour. Midnight. Her 18th birthday…

From somewhere in the dark chambers of hell a dark soul once apart of the world shedding more light than now none taps his skin hide gloved fingers against the bone tabletop of his council. Counting the dreary chimes of the hissing clock in the distance… Five…four…three…two…

One the last strike…

“It’s time.”

Impressum

Texte: All storylines and characters are owned by myself. Angels and Demons quotes taken from Dan Browns Novel.
Tag der Veröffentlichung: 07.05.2010

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Widmung:
To My Father, for being my everything in life.