"Saxon...” I quiver tensely in my sleep.
“Lunar blood...Saxon...we're calling to you...”
I jerk the pillow up over my ear, trying to muffle the voice I know I'm only hearing within my head. The whispers get louder, and faster, and louder again. Before long, I hear someone shouting at me from inside my skull. It's painful, but I try to drown it out by humming to myself quietly. Of course, this does no good.“Saxon!” I jolt up out of my sleep, looking around, eyes wide and alert, analyzing everything around me. My pulse relaxes and so do I. The third night in a row I've been plagued with these voices in my sleep. Nothing more than a recurring dream, I'm sure, but these dreams always feel so eerily real.
I look at the clock on my wall. 12:17a.m. I know I'll never get back to sleep now, I haven't the last two night's I've woken prematurely. I'll just have to grin and bear it, and try my best not to face-plant my desk in Geometry again tomorrow.
Slowly, I rise fully from my bed, still very tired, and stumble around momentarily before regaining my balance. I walk to my window, open it, (being careful to do so very quietly as to not wake my sleeping mother and baby sister) and climb out onto the balcony, just large enough to seat a couple people under the night sky. I lean against the cold metal rim that borders it, about chest high, and look out at the shadowy silhouette of my hometown. It's always really quiet at night, very calming and peaceful. On nights I can't sleep, I like to come out here and just stargaze. One time, I even fell asleep up here, and got an earful from my mother for it.
As I look upon the moon, a chill runs up my spine. Every year around this time, the moon turns a deep, solid red. On the night of the full moon during this season, our town holds a gigantic festival in celebration. I'm not sure why, but I think it has something to do with the old legend about how our moon got this way. They call it the “Red Harvest Festival”, and it's scheduled for the night after tomorrow night. All my friends are going, and mom usually lets me go too. It's always lots of fun.
But for some reason, this time the moon has been an especially bright and full shade of red. The dream voices started coming around the time the moon became this color this year. It's really giving me the creeps. I talked to mom about the voices and she told me not to worry, that I'm just nervous and anxious for the festival. She's probably right, I'm over-thinking this whole thing.
As I watch the moon, mesmerized, as if in a trance, something catches the corner of my eye. Hardly noticeable, just a quick, sharp movement, like a shadow. My gaze darts from the night sky to the street, trying to catch a glimpse of what the shadow I saw could've been. For a couple minutes, I see nothing. Then, I tense. I'm not sure what it is, and I hope to God I'm only seeing things, but as I watch, my heart beats faster, and my eyes grow slowly wider. I see a figure in the alley, hunched low, over another, slumped, figure. Red moonlight reflects off of an equally red pool that oozes into the street. I take a step back, frozen in fear, hardly able to do more than shuffle slightly, my gaze fixed on the terror I'm witnessing at a distance. Someone...murdered...here? As I look on in shock, 3 lights shoot from the darkness of the alleyway I overlook, two beady red ones, and a flame that ignites with them. The smell of sulfur rises into the air.
I start to scream but it gets caught in my throat. I tumble backward toward my window, forcefully shoving it open, before tumbling through it madly, smacking my head hard on the floor. Blackness.
Morning. I rise slowly, rubbing my throbbing head. I'm on the floor...why? As I come to my feet, I walk over and see my bed, not made, untidy. I reason I must've rolled out. I make my bed quickly, looking to the clock. 7:03. I have to get ready for school in a hurry, or I'm going to be late. With my current, annoying headache, I don't feel much like going, but I know I have to, a headache is no excuse to miss a day of school, as good as that sounds. As I slowly drift out of my morning grogginess, I shuffle toward my dresser, pick out a fresh change of clothes, then head toward the bathroom in the hall to shower and brush my teeth, and salvage what I can out of my hair with the one comb we have, which is missing half its teeth.
It doesn't take me as long to get ready as I anticipate, and I actually come out looking presentable. I glance at the clock once before I head downstairs, to make sure I'm on schedule. 7:25. I can still make it, but I'll have to pick up my pace from my usual walk to a jog on the way there. Taking one last look in the mirror, brushing my shirt off a little bit and patting down a disobedient lock of my bright red hair, I finally turn away and head for the stairs, to greet my mom and head that way.
As I'm coming down the stairs, I see her fixed on the television intently. The early-morning news is on, no surprise, she likes to keep up with current events. I shrug it off. I hear her gasp, and I look at once to the set, slowing my pace to a near crawl.
“...went missing last night, the police and family desperately searching for the man. One witness claims to have seen Montgomery roaming the streets around his home last night, and then suddenly disappearing with a scream. We'll have more on this...” The reporter continues, but I pay no know attention to the rest. His words suddenly jog my memory, and I remember what I saw last night. The figures...The blood...My panic and my hurried fall into my room. Did I witness this man's murder? I want to tell myself its a dream, and a coincidence, but I know it's not, deep down. Should I tell my mother what I saw? What if I didn't see it, what if it's all in my head? No, I can't say anything not until I'm sure...
My mom looks up at me and raises an eyebrow. “Is there something wrong, Saxon?” I shake the thoughts off and force a smile.
“No, I'm fine, Mom.” though I smile, inside I scoff. She's such a busy-body.
“Alright, now hurry to school, you can't be late, not again mister.”
I sigh a bit, then nod. “Yes, Mom, I know...” hurrying the rest of the way down the stairs, grabbing my book bag from the coat rack, and moving quickly out the door.
- Title: The Psychomachia; Ch.I-Voices
- Artist: Persona-User Kanji
- Description: A story I'm going to start writing, I wanted to post it somewhere to get a good public opinion of it. It took alot of it's inspiration from Darren Shan's "Demonata" series, my favorite book series to date. If this gets good feedback, I'll post chapter two. Thanks for your time, enjoy :}
- Date: 03/02/2010
- Tags: psychomachia chapterone voices
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