Nightmare.

Preview of Chapter Eight. Barnaby was having a nightmare. Hope you enjoy.

“Barnaby Percy Bryant!” Cedric yelled. “How many times do I have to tell to stay on the property unless you have my permission!”

“At least once more, sir.”

“You little ungrateful brat.” Cedric slapped his hand across Barnaby’s cheek, now a home for the sting of Cedric’s slaps. “You had tons of work you needed to do, you need to train Barnaby.”

“Why do I need to train so hard? With little to know breaks, and absolutely no freedom?” Barnaby raised his voice. He knew not to raise his voice to Cedric, even when he was angry. But now he couldn’t help himself, he’s been holding this in way too long.

“You need to protect yourself, and your sister.”

“Who in the hell would try to-“

“That’s enough Barnaby.” Cedric said, in the tone of voice that told Barnaby to shut up.

He couldn’t hold back any longer, he wouldn’t let Cedric treat him this way any more.

“No, it’s not. Why are you keeping us in the dark all the time? Why won’t you let us go to town? You still say no even when we ask for permission.”

“I said that’s enough!” Cedric screamed and slapped Barnaby again with the back of his hand.

This was a new sting, a new feeling running down his cheek. He reached up and felt what it was, there was an inch long cut running under his cheekbone. Cedric’s ring had cut him.

Barnaby turns to walk away, Cedric grabbed his shoulder to stop him, “Give it here Barnaby.” Cedric held out his hand.

“Give what? I don’t have anything.” Barnaby lied.

Cedric’s grip was too tight on his shoulder; he couldn’t just evaporate out of there like he normally would have. That always made Cedric angrier.

“The things you stole during this outing.” Cedric squeezed harder. “You’re getting better, Barnaby. But still not good enough.”

“I didn’t steal anything.” Barnaby tried to pry Cedric’s hand off of his shoulder, but he was much stranger. “When will I be good enough for you? When I can pick something up with out being visible? Which is impossible. When I can evaporate someone with me? Which, by the way, is also impossible. Or when I’m done doing your dirty work?”

Cedric’s hand moved to around Barnaby’s neck with so much speed, with so much force, Barnaby swore he heard a snap.

Glamour.

Do you believe in people with wings?

I'm not talking about angels, I'm talk about people that weren't meant to have wings. Genetic mutations that were caused in a lab. If you have read James Patterson's Maximum Ride Series you would know what I'm talking about. And if you've never read it, I highly recommend it.

I'm a pretty gullible person. Like a child, I believe in things most people don't. I believe there are things in the world that most people cannot see, that people choose not to see because they were forced to believe they aren't real.

My parents call it an over active imagination.

But I believe in a lot of things that most people get called crazy for, and this is no different. People can be cruel, they can do the things mentioned in Maximum Ride and even worse things. Again, people choose to believe people can't be that cruel. And so they automatically deem everything that's past the realm of "normal" into fiction, works of the imagination.

Well those shadows in the dark, those noises that only you can hear, and those kids that seem just a little bit paranoid could all be part of the "fiction" world. Just open your eyes and your mind and let the glamour slip away and you could being seeing the exact things you thought didn't exist.

Son? Daughter?

Have you ever gotten confused about a persons gender? Has anyone ever been confused about your gender?

It's a pretty awkward moment, for both sides.

Not counting the times I've been hit on by girls on myspace, I've been mistaken as a male twice.

The first was by a woman at the Heritage Center in Cripple Creek. My mom and I were going there to see my piece if the art show, even though it was taken down early but that's another story altogether, and the woman was working the front desk. To find out how much my mom needed to pay to get in, the woman asked-

"How old is your son...daughter?"

Now, both my mom and I could tell she didn't mean to offend me, she was just unsure. So I just smiled and answered her, then laughed about it. Some girls get really offended if someone, even if they didn't mean to, mistakes them for a guy. I don't, I think it's funny. But I could understand why she was confused. I was wearing a baggy shirt, a baggy hoodie with the hood up, skinny jeans, and my hair was in my face so you couldn't even see my eyes. I would've had a hard time. The woman began to say like, "Oh, I'm so sorry! Your hair made it hard for me." And stuff like that. I just smiled and laughed and told her it was okay, that it had happened before and to not to worry about it. We both eventually laughed about it.

Another time was at Outback Steakhouse recently.

It was family night. We went to dinner and a movie because my brother returned home from college. When we were seated at Outback and our waitress comes over, I didn't even notice at first until she asked my brother (who I was sitting next to) his drink order. Now when I sit in a booth in a resturaunte I like to sit in the corner, I don't really know why. I was wearing a kind of loose fitting shirt, my hoodie, and a hat that night. When she asked for my drink order she said-

"And for you, sir?"

I was the last person to give her their drink order, so I know I didn't hear her incorrectly. I tried so hard not to laugh. She didn't sound unsure about if I was actually a "sir" or not, but I still wasn't offended. If anything, I wanted to laugh harder than the first time. Because this time, you could clearly see that I had breasts. And I don't think I sound like a guy. But after I gave her my drink order I couldn't hold back my laughter any longer. My brother heard her too and was kind of chuckling along with me.

Because this is the first year I've had short hair in a long time, this is a new experience for me. But a funny one.

I don't know what this post is supposed to be telling you, but I thought it might be a good laugh.

Preview of Chapter Seven.

“I’m telling you Reese, Cedric is here in Virginia. I don’t know where, but he’s here. I can feel it.” Kale tells me once we get home after school.

We’ve been together for three months now, for three months Kale’s been living with me. I still can’t wrap my head around the fact that I have a brother, a twin brother nonetheless.

“How do you know?” I ask. As soon as we started walking home he’s been saying this. “Have you seen him?”

“No. But I know he’s here! I can always tell when Cedric is around.”

“Except for that time he caught you playing with fire.” I pointed out.

Kale rolled his eyes and sighed loudly, “Yes, except for that time.”

“So maybe it’s nothing.” I take a water from the fridge, “Maybe you’re just freaking yourself out.”

“But I’m not. I’ve had this feeling for a few days now. I wasn’t sure at first, but since this morning I’m sure of it.”

I took another water out and threw it to Kale. I sighed, thinking it over. I’ve never seen Kale this wound up, and he’s never given me a reason not to believe him.

“Okay,” I take a seat on the couch, “so lets say Cedric was here, why would he choose now? I mean, after all these years, why choose now to find you?”

“God dammit,” He rolled his eyes again, “I don’t know! Perhaps he’s been busy, or he’s just remembered I’m still alive. Who really knows!”

Kale pinched the bridge of his nose, taking in slow breaths. If you looked really closely, every time he let out a breath a puff a steam came out of both his nose and mouth. I’ve never seen that happen before.

“All I know is,” He started again, “this feeling that I have is not a good one. If he’s here, it is not just to say hello and stay for tea.”

He’s never yelled before, or sound so raddled and angry. Something must be really wrong.

4/20.

I hate this day. Okay I don't really hate it, I'm just greatly annoyed by it.

This is my take on "National" Smoke Weed Day:

Some loser, or a group of losers, in a basement decided one day to create a day where you can celebrate weed, or the munchies. I haven't decided which one yet. There is no reason to celebrate a substance that destroys your body. And yes, it does destroy your body. You are not made to handle that many chemicals, and your lungs aren't made to survive ANY kind of smoke. And to every stoner that says it's natural so it must be good for you, you're wrong. Not everything that's natural it good for you, some is deadly. I have friends that smoke, the majority of the students in my school smoke, and other times I can handle their drug talk. But today it was too much. I mean, a freshman girl showed up to class today stoned off her ass. Today is NOT a holiday, there is no reason to celebrate. Today should be a day of mourning.

Another thing that pisses me off that today is declared "National" Smoke Weed Day, it's making people forget what happened at Columbine High School in Littleton, Colorado eleven years ago.

Today is the anniversary of a tragedy that happened in our own state, and I didn't hear one person talk about it today, not even in the morning announcements.

It's been bypassed for a plant.

Granted, I was only five when Columbine happened. But I still understood what had happened and that some families were never going to see their children again. It was a major tragedy, all someone has to say is "Columbine" and people automatically know what they're referring to.

I just think 4/20 should be more about remembering Columbine than about a stupid plant that gives you a feeling of euphoria for a couple hours and then the munchies. But, that's just my opinion.

I pray for all the families affected by the Columbine shooting.

Sick Little Suicide.

This is a poem I wrote awhile ago for Poetry class. It's quite depressing, and it's bad, but oh well. The stanza's that are only two lines are telling the story from a different point of view, I guess. I know, it's confusing. That's why it's in another color. It's really long. Sorry about that. Anyway, enjoy! And feedback would be appreciated. Sick Little Suicide – That's the song that's going to play. He's planned this for months, Looking over it again, and again – Making sure everything was perfect, That everything would work. The song playing over and over again. The lyrics swimming through his house. His mind has been living in an abyss – He hasn't felt the warmth of happiness, The security of love, Since he was a little boy. When his parents return home and hear the song, They'll wonder why it's suddenly so cold. The bite of the blade – The warmth of the steel, Has kept him alive so far. But now life is becoming too much. The stillness of the house will scare them – The lyrics ringing through their ears like a bad pop song. His friend's sudden abandonment, The jokes and pranks – All the names and rumors, Paved the way towards his downfall. After a weekend away, That is what they'll come home to. He knew it was his fault. His messed up brain, his intense mood swings – It all pushed everyone away. Now they all say he's crazy. But of course, they won't put two and two together. They won't think the song and stillness mean the same thing. Now he doesn't expect to be missed. He's rejected by everyone – Like the one rotten piece of fruit, Everyone has just thrown him away. They'll think everything is fine – Their son is just listening to a song on max volume. He's talked to people who have attempted suicide. Some say they're thankful they survived, Others have tried again many, many more times. Nothing can change his mind. When they go upstairs to check on him, Then they'll see what has really become of their son. He's imagined his parent's reaction, Even dreamed about it, But they've always ended the same. They never even shed a tear of remorse. They'll see their beloved son, His soul long since gone from this Earth. Always their faces were as cold as stone, Their eyes glazing over from shock, Like fog clouding a window – But never any screams of loss for their song. They'll be frozen in place. Both from the chill of the house, and the sight of their son. His plan has always been the same. Always the same date, Always the same song, And always the same way to die. Then his mother would scream – Loud enough that it pierces all of the homes in their neighborhood. The sun sneaks through the windows, Warming the frozen floorboards. It's a beautiful day out – Despite his plan to end it all. They don't know what to do, There's so much blood. He plans to hang himself, After letting his tainted blood run. A slow and painful mixture of both. Making sure he gets what he deserves. Should they cut him down first? Or stop the bleeding? He hangs the rope, grabs the blades – Check. Puts the song on repeat, loud enough for all to hear – Check. They move fast. Cut him down, stop the bleeding, and call an ambulance. The rope hangs inside the closet – On a beam high enough to silence the breathing. He steps onto the small step ladder, razors in hand – He slips the makeshift noose around his neck. He's so cold. His skin almost as translucent as fish scales. He takes one last look as his life – He wants to so this. He opens his skin, letting his veins breath. The blood makes the razor slip from his fingers. Someone could think he was sleeping soundly. Until they noticed how still he actually was. One last breathe. His warm blood drips to the floor – In two small, crimson puddles. 1 . . . 2 . . . 3 . . . JUMP! The purple ring around his neck – It was so dark and solid compared to his skin. He heard his neck give a loud pop – His breathe trapped in his throat. He began to panic. His hands frantically clawed at the rope. His mother held him as she fell to the floor. She didn't notice the blood under her. This was stupid, he thought. He could get over his troubles – Ignore everything said about him. He wanted to live. His father fell next to them. They let their tears fall on their son's still face. Blood smeared on his neck, face, and shirt. His vision started to blur – The sound escaping from his ears. He struggled to breathe as everything went black. Their sobs drowned out by that song – Forever ringing in their ears. Two things he couldn't of planned, The beam breaking – And his parents returning home early. They walked through the door just as he made a loud thud. That's what could have happened – If his plan wasn't ruined. They run into his room – His mother starts to cry and fell to his side. His mother rips off the makeshift noose, While his father calls an ambulance. If he never would have panicked – The beam would never have broken. His father wraps scattered clothing on his son's wrists. His mother tries to get him to breathe. There is still a chance to save him – The faint beating of his pulse hidden under his skin. If his parents weren't worried about him – They would never have come home early. With the sudden realization of the open airways, His eyes snap open – His lungs begging for air. His numb hands clawing all around him. The things he couldn't control, he didn't plan – Saved his life. Taking short, hoarse breathes – Unable to get the amount of air he needs – He scoots through his own blood, And backs into the back of his closet. Chance had changed his plans – While Fear changed his mind. Still thinking he was suffocating – He clamored for air, and grasped his neck. His mother tried to calm him down – But he still couldn't hear. He knows now that life is worth living – That everything should be okay. The loss of blood made him dizzy. The sight of his own blood, smeared on the floor – Made him sick. Taking more short, hoarse breathes, he slips into unconsciousness. There are times when he wants to try again – But then he remembers what death was like. A scar now decorated his neck and arms. The smooth, beautiful skin destroyed by the ugly tattoos. But they're beautiful to him, a beautiful reminder – That life doesn't stay bad for long.

DotDotDot.

I feel like I've been ranting a lot lately.

That makes me feel like a cynic. I mean, I am. But I don't have to be one ALL THE TIME.

Only part of the time.

In other news. . .

I turned in my art project for the art show today!

Although, I think I'm the only one excited about this. When I told my mom she didn't seem very happy or excited. Ah well.

Oh, the picture is of Simon (I think) from Lord of The Flies. I love that book, even though it was assigned to us.

Wow, this is really short. It's not even worth reading, really.

I'll have something better up later. Promise.