Chapter 1 #2
Then I feel it. A shifting in the air. Goose bumps spread like a flash flood over my body. Something is coming.
Sinister energy fills the heavy air, and if I could vomit, I would.
Suddenly, unknown arms wrench me to the side and my back slams into a hard, immovable body.
A moan of agony rips out of me from the force of my body colliding with the unknown person.
I sense a dark figure looming behind me.
Its hot, stale breath whispers in my ear.
The voice, holding such cruelty, buries deep into my eardrums, freezing me in place when all I want to do is flee.
A menacing growl reverberates down to my very core.
“You bleed so prettily, Chosen. I can feel the power in your blood. You will be mine once and for all.”
I can’t make my brain understand what it is talking about. Blood? What blood? Still not able to clear my vision, I reach down to where the pain is most intense. My hands meet a warm, sticky wetness. I tremble in disbelief; a keening sound breaches my lips as I realize it speaks the truth.
The being grabs my hand and brings it up by my head. I cry out in pain and revulsion as I feel it lick the blood from my fingers. It growls again in my ear.
“All this power...so delicious…You’re mine Kinley.”
Then everything goes dark.
I shoot upright in bed with a gasp, disoriented and drenched in a cold sweat. My eyes dart around the dark room until my gaze snags on the lit up screen balanced precariously on my side table. With a shaking hand I reach out to shut off the obnoxious ringtone.
“Ugh, why the fuck is my phone not on silent?”
It is so tempting to let it ring, but that dream had been too real, and no one ever calls me this early unless it is an emergency. I swipe quickly to accept without even glancing to see who it might be. I should have looked at the caller ID.
“Hello...?” I ask breathlessly.
An unknown male voice responds and my mood, already dark and troubled, gets even darker when I hear the overconfident words that ooze out of his mouth.
“Hey baby, what are you doing? I have been thinking about you like crazy. Have you missed me?”
I look at my phone screen, seeing it isn’t anyone in my phone contacts; I have no clue who this imbecile is. My emotions are too high, and even if this is a mistake and he dialed the wrong number, I’m in no fucking mood to be having this conversation.
“Who the hell is this? And why are you calling me this early in the morning?! You know what, don’t bother answering that.” He stutters an attempt at a response before I’m smashing the End Call button.
Now I just need to remember how to block a number.
Figuring that out, and safe from further unwanted booty calls, I think back to that disturbing dream.
Hearing my mother’s voice after all these years makes me shudder.
Just that would have made that dream awful, but hearing that dark entity’s voice, feeling him press against my body, having him make me bleed.
I almost want to vomit, the smell of him, pine mixed with sulfur, combined with the iron tang of my blood makes me shudder in revulsion.
It’s not new for me to have vivid dreams, they have become quite frequent the past few months.
But it seems as though the dreams have gotten weirder lately, more real.
There is an underlying sense of urgency that isn’t usually present, and I definitely haven’t dreamt about being stabbed before.
I also haven’t dreamt about my mother in a very long time.
Last night’s non-date must have triggered those happy memories.
“God that dream was so messed up.”
Resigning myself to not understanding the hidden meanings in the twisted images that plague my dreams, I pull the covers back up and cuddle my comfort pillow.
Glancing at the clock, I groan in despair.
I only have thirty minutes left before I have to get up and get ready for work. I kick my legs in frustration.
“I’m never going to get back to sleep, damn it.”
Dragging myself out of bed I groggily make my way to the kitchen, trying not to trip over my cat as he weaves his way through my legs.
“Indy, I swear to god, one of these days you’re going to kill me.” I curse; he just yowls at me which only makes me want to curse at him some more.
Finally making it into the kitchen without tripping to my death, I flip on the light and proceed to the coffee maker.
I’m going to need so much caffeine this morning.
I measure out the coffee beans into my coffee grinder and push down the button to pulverize them within an inch of their aromatic lives.
Even half asleep and in a grumpy mood, I never miss any steps in making my morning coffee.
Nothing could prevent me from making the perfect pot of the elixir of life.
My coffee machine is happily brewing my will to live when I begin hearing the tell tale stirrings of my dog on her bed in the other room.
“Beretta, are you getting up, love?”
I’m answered with the thumping of her tail hitting the nearby wall. I silently cringed at the force with which her poor tail is thumping into things. Finishing wiping off the countertop, I turn around just as Beretta, my very large and lovable Boxer mix, walks into the kitchen.
“Good morning Betta Boo, I hope you slept well…I did not.”
Beretta just wags her tail and looks up at me expectantly.
“I guess since we are up early, we might as well go for a walk.”
Beretta’s ears perk at the word “walk,” and she trots to the side door. I shake my head at her antics, laughing at her silly body wiggles of excitement.
“We gotta wait until after I put some clothes on and get some coffee, silly.” Beretta cocks her head to the side and sees that I’m not going for her leash; she sighs and follows after Indy as he strolls by to go to the living room.
A light grin spreads across my face, and I turn to pour myself a cup of freshly brewed coffee before Beretta decides to figure out how to walk herself.
After a brisk walk around the neighborhood, I leave a tired Beretta on her bed.
She loves walks, and I was thankful she kept me motivated to exercise.
I walk down the hallway into my bedroom, glancing longingly at my bed, before going into the bathroom to shower so I can get ready for work.
As the water warms up, I give myself an assessing look in the mirror.
“It’s gonna be a long day.”
Having recently turned twenty-seven, I’m thankful to my youthful face for not showing the signs of sleep loss.
My deep blue eyes show it, though; if anyone knew to look there, they would surely see my tiredness.
I vaguely remember my grandmother telling me that the eyes were the windows into the soul, and mine were the clearest windows she had ever seen.
My mother, on the other hand, had always scoffed that my eyes weren’t the bright green that all Munro women had, but then again, my mother had always loved to criticize me.
Shaking myself out of that unhappy train of thought, I twist my long dark brown hair up into a bun, so I don’t get it wet in the shower; I didn’t have the time or desire to fully style it this morning.
I always thought my eyes and hair were my best physical features.
Men that didn’t think I was too big typically thought my ass and boobs were my best features, which was ok if I was looking for a quick hook-up, but it was incredibly frustrating when what I really crave is a genuine connection.
I wouldn’t consider myself conventionally beautiful, especially if one goes by today’s beauty standards, but I know I’m beautiful.
The older I get and the longer I stay away from my toxic hometown, the more I grow to appreciate my looks.
I had embraced my fuller hourglass figure in college and began to appreciate my body more and more as the years went on.
In fact, my goal for this year was to begin appreciating my body for what it was, even if at the moment I was only finding the flaws in my body and wishing I was thinner.
“Maybe if I was thinner, I wouldn’t have so much trouble finding a good man…I’m so tired of all these losers.”
Giving up on trying to stare myself thinner, I get into the shower and try with all my might to wash the negativity of the morning away so I can start my day with a fresher outlook.