Hello everyone this is my first story ive created here, constructive critism is appreciated, review if you so desire. All FLCL characters in this fanfic are copyrighted by their respective publishers. Enjoy!

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Reality is boring. Everyone needs to escape. Everyone has to take a break from life and the monotony of it all. The gray shroud that haunts us from time to time need not bear us down. That's why the worlds artists, musicians, writers, poets are spurned to create, to escape the numbing sting of reality. That is why we dream when we sleep. The imaginations of people are stimulated and they can go anywhere, be anyplace, and do almost anything. Your sadness, worries, all the things that cause you pain and grief dissolve and you are left with only you and whatever you dream or will into being. When we return, we are alive again, revitalized in a way like no other. Our mind is always with us and if need be we can escape again, as long as one is able to use their imagination effectively.

Nathaniel's escape was drawn to an abrupt close as his alarm at his bedside began that horrible nagging that caused him to jolt awake each morning. It was a simple rhythmic beep-beep but it was the volume that was the kicker. He swore that this clock could wake the dead if not at least the next door neighbors. He shot upward from his pillows, reaching as fast as he could for the snooze button. He punched it down then shut off the alarm. He opened his eyes slowly as they gradually adjusted to the morning light that shone through the curtains of his room.

He gazed still half asleep at his clock. It read 7 o'clock, the usual time he would wake up to start getting ready for school. He pulled the sheets off of him and sat up, yawning and stretching, his back popping along with his neck. He interlocked his fingers and stretched them outward, making the same popping noise as his neck and back. He then stood and started his way out of his room and towards the kitchen which was downstairs. He wasn't wearing any socks and so noticed just how cold the wooden floors had gotten during the night. It sent a shiver up his spine and so he returned to his room quickly and put on a pair of socks from a pile of recently cleaned laundry that he hadn't bothered to put away yet. He continued on down the creaky wooden flight of steps and immediately into the kitchen.

His mother was already awake and the aroma of fresh brewed coffee drifted into his nose. Actually he didn't enjoy coffee but just the smell seemed enough to awaken him more.

"Good morning," he uttered groggily walking to a cupboard and pulling a box of Frosted Flakes from inside.

"Morning dear," she answered, "How are you?"

He laughed, as if she had to ask, "Tired."

He gathered a spoon, a bowl, and some milk and placed everything on the small round wooden table. He made his bowl of cereal and ate slowly. School started at 8 and he was in no rush to make it on time. He just didn't care enough about school for it to matter what time he arrived. He finished and returned the milk and cereal to their respective places and his bowl to the sink where it would later be put into the dishwasher by his mother.

"Don't be late for school," she spoke as he exited the kitchen. He turned to face her as she added, "The school has warned you about that I believe."

"Yes...I know," he said with an air of indifference. Its wasn't like his mother would punish him, she would always just tell him he was 18 and should take some responsibility and that when he got a job he would have to make it on time or else he wouldn't be keeping one very long. He always decided he would take that initiative when someone decided to hire him.

He returned up the stairs to his room, closing the door and locking it behind him. He changed out of yesterdays clothes. Whatever he put on when he woke up he would usually wear to bed, maybe change into a pair of shorts to sleep in. He replaced his Iced Earth shirt, one of his favorite bands, with a Neon Genesis Evangelion shirt. Evangelion was an anime he was an otaku about, it always captivated his attention and held it, never letting go. The shirt displayed the scene of the second episode were after fighting the angel Sachiel, it self destructed on the Evangelion. It had no effect and it showed the Eva walking slowly from the flames, triumphant. It was a great shot captured and transferred onto this shirt which he bought without hesitation at a local store. He also put on some black shorts he had around and put on his converse sneaks. He looked around his room at the various memorabilia he had on his walls. Most had to do with Evangelion or video games, but a few contained poems or snippets of words he found interesting like one above his bed that was small but read "It's always darkest before the dawn."

Placed on stands near his bed was his small collection of guitars. He had been playing since he was 15. Hopelessly addicted now, not a day went by when he wouldn't pick up one of the guitars and play something. Over the years he had picked up on things through the music he listened to and what few Battle of the Bands shows Lucida hosted. Despite his self taught methods he was knowledgeable and skilled. He currently owned three guitars, a black Tremonti SE made by PRS guitars, a blue Ibanez RG170R, and his pride and joy, a gun-metal grey Jackson SL1 Soloist. The Soloist was played most often of the three but still maintained in all its majestic glory. The only amp he owned at the moment was a 30 watt Marshall. Slowly but surely he was saving money to buy a Peavey 5150 head the likes of which his current amp could never rival. No penny was spared from his horde of cash. He had saved up around 450 dollars and still was 150 bucks short. So patiently he saved, knowing the wait would be well worth it. Staring at his guitars made him itching to play and he would have if not for school. Thinking about school made him sigh as he pulled his messenger bag that held all his school materials from along side his dresser, slinging it on his shoulder.

Returning downstairs, he went into their bathroom and combed his long dark brown hair, parting it down the middle like he always did. His hair got wavy at the ends when it was as long as it was and so he combed it a couple times to make it look as neat as he could. He stared at his reflection in the mirror, thinking to himself, "Another day...all the same, the same old people, same idiots, same everything..."

With all this down he was ready. As he passed the kitchen, he noticed his mom wasn't there, no doubt getting changed to go do her job. Her job was to clean. Whatever she was hired to clean she would clean, stores, even peoples houses. It paid good and provided for their needs.

He walked to the edge of the steps and yelled up, "Mom! I'm leaving for school now!"

A muffled reply came from the vicinity of her room, "Ok, I will see you later!"

He answered, "Alright, bye Mom!"

Her name was Alice but of course he never called her that. Her second profession was an artist. More often than not she was delved into a portrait she was creating, seeming to space out for a time then go back to painting. He passed the kitchen on his way out and checked the clock on the coffee machine. It read 7:48. It took him about 15 minutes to get to school on his bike, so he would be late, but not nearly as late as he usually was. Almost forgetting he swung back into the kitchen and grabbed his CD player off the kitchen table.

He exited the house and took in his surroundings. The town where he lived was named Lucida. It could be likened to the suburbs that bordered no city. No highways ran through it and it was small enough to ride a bike to wherever you needed to go. He went down the stairs leading from the house and grabbed his bike that was along side the steps. A pink Geo tracker sat in the driveway, his mother's means of transportation. It had also helped him to get his license. Still he didn't drive much since he got around just fine without it. He put the headphones on and hopped on the bike and began to pedal down the sidewalk. Riding on the roads here was more annoying than anything. Any pothole that appeared took forever to be filled. Even then it was never filled right just patched. Most of the streets were like this and you could not make it down a single road without being greeted with bumps and rumbles from the dilapidated street. The town had a few wooded areas with trails that cut through them frequently visited by joggers and those using them at shortcuts to get to wherever they were going.

The CD that was in the player was from a band called the Pillows. He picked it up at the same shop that had the Evangelion shirt. His main listening pleasure was heavy metal, power metal, the works. This band though, they were so catchy. He especially liked the song he currently listened to called "Ride on Shooting Star." It wasn't especially difficult to play since he had learned it in a single night just listening to it and playing along. The guitar riffs were always on his mind and he found himself strumming air guitar at times. He didn't understand any of the lyrics besides the first line of the chorus but he loved it none the less. Coming to an intersection Nathaniel stopped momentarily to make sure he wouldn't get run over and continued on.

There wasn't much to do in Lucida. There were some small shopping plazas, some movie theaters, nothing big. The outskirts of the town were mostly rural areas and then hills. Nathaniel was bored out of his skull with this place, this town. Nothing ever changed, not for the better anyways. It was the backwater of the world, the one little corner where nothing happened. The only thing that had caught Nathaniel's attention was the construction of some kind of structure on the town's border.

Being the largest building in town it was not obscured from sight and could be seen from anywhere. What its purpose was he didn't even know. Everyone else he asked had no idea either. It was surrounded by only a few houses because everyday at the same time, 5 o'clock, great jets of stream billowed from underneath it continuing for a few minutes and then stopped. This happened each day at the exact time, not a minute later or less. It was almost like it was burning the earth beneath it and appeared to look like an iron. It made Nathaniel wonder if it was the designer's intent for it to so closely resemble a household appliance. But like everything else in this town it didn't have a purpose, the mammoth structure was build in less than a year and not even mentioned on the news, jetting steam everyday since.

He was a few minutes away from school but tried not to think about it. Instead he thought, "One thing that does give this town life...is fall." Autumn was his favorite time of year. The leaves were just beginning to change color but the days were definitely growing shorter and cooler. Like he thought, it was the one thing that brought glory to Lucida. The vibrant colors the hillsides would turn; the crisp air that held no muggy humidity. For as long as he remembered he loved fall and the reprieve that was provided from the mind numbing days he spent here. "Ride on Shooting Star" ended and he started it over from the beginning, he had to hear it one more time before he got into school.

He rode down the sidewalk occasionally stopping to cross a street, continually humming the music that blasted into his ears. Sometimes he would even try to make up words for the ones he didn't know, imagining what they might be saying. Soon he passed a sign that read "Slow, 15, School Zone" and another that caused Nathaniel a sigh reading, "Lucida High School."

He pedaled into the lot and slowed his bike to a halt. He jumped off it and moved it to the bike railing where a few bikes sat. They were expensive looking, 10 speed, mountain bikes with treads that belonged on cars. His was a simple 5 speed riding bike that had been his mother's ages ago. He wondered what the point was of having something that expensive in a town like this. You could barely enjoy the pleasure of showing it off, no one cared. He placed his trusty 5 speed in the next available spot on the railing. Around him a few students were rushing to make it into the school, despite being already late. He removed his headphones and placed the CD player into his bag and took his time walking to the entrance.

One of the hall Nazis, as he liked to call them, sat at a desk immediately as he entered. There was a line of students in front of him that were late as well. The main office had begun to make announcements over the crackling static of the intercom. They started them at about 8:05 so he figured it was around that time. He was next in line and stepped up to the desk. The lady in front of him was old, her skin wrinkly and hair beginning to gray. She had huge bifocal glasses and was grumpy as ever, then again so was all of the hall Nazis. The school thought it was a good idea to hire miserable old ladies to serve as hall monitors. Why was beyond his understanding, perhaps no one else would work for them?

"Oh, Nathaniel...late as usual I see," she spoke with a suppressed anger in her voice. She wrote his name down with shaking hands among the list of others that were late.

"You bet, when do I ever get to school on time?" He smiled as he said it. Provoking the hall Nazis was fun; they said the funniest things at times.

Unable to keep her cool, she stared at him with as mean a glare as she could muster and said, "Get to homeroom before I get the principle out here to suspend you and we will see if you can get to school on time then!"

He raised both his hands in the air and shook them like he was scared. Immediately he turned away from the desk and started down the hall to his homeroom. "Not much to look forward to as usual..." He thought as he reached the door to his homeroom. Hesitantly he turned the knob to the wooden door to begin yet another torturous day in Lucida High.

...

Lucida High he could imagine was the bane of high schools. It was a few decades old with nothing upgraded or changed since. It wasn't big and only had 35 classrooms all a monochromatic white despite what decorations their respective teachers might fancy them up with. Basic facilities were also in place, a gym, an auditorium, a lunch room. Some sections the janitors wouldn't even clean. An exit that led out from the gym for example was rarely used and so a thick layer of dirt and dust coated every inch of the place. He had walked in once to see if he could get out of the school that way but was immediately enveloped. He wasn't allergic but there was so much dust he coughed and sputtered his way back to a drinking fountain to wash the junk from his mouth. Not that the water was any better. The fountains all tasted like lead or a metal of some kind. The school had computers but it was pointless to use them. Only a handful of them worked properly. Most would cause so much grief that it would makes ones blood boil and want to destroy it with an axe, a baseball bat, or anything else that was handy. Other computers didn't even turn on. If you wanted to use one you had to find one that functioned.

He was currently sitting in his third period class. It was the one class he enjoyed and even looked forward to. It was a psychology class taught by a teacher named Mr. Hammet. He unlike many of the teachers had a sense of humor and knew how to deal with problem makers. He had a way of making everything he taught interesting. The class was currently learning about a subject known as classical conditioning. His attention shifted outside for a moment. Another reason he loved fall was that air conditioners were non-existent in this school. During the summer not a single class was safe from the heat wave. In addition during the winter when the heater was turned on, it may have well have been summer. The room temperature would rise to sweltering heights. So during the fall, neither of them were needed and things were generally more comfortable.

The lesson was confusing, classical conditioning involved Pavlov's experiment with dogs and unconditioned stimulus and unconditioned response plus conditioned stimulus and conditioned response. The students including himself stared blankly at the board absent minded as to the first thing he was talking about.

Mr. Hammet taking note of this shook his head and exclaimed, "Yes its hard at first, you'll get it though, we will continue with this tomorrow, no homework!"

Their faces elated at no longer having to use brain cells. A commotion followed as books were put away and conversations erupted around Nathaniel. He noticed the time and was amazed at how quick the minutes had flown. Standing from his seat he approached Mr. Hammet who was erasing the material from the board.

"Excuse me, Mr. Hammet?" He could barely be heard above the ruckus of the students but his teacher turned to face him.

"What can I do for you Nathaniel?"

"Do you mind if I eat here for lunch?" It was the same question he would ask everyday. The answer was always...

"You don't have to ask me everyday, you are welcome to eat here," he proclaimed.

"Thanks, I will be back in a second." The electric drone of the bell resounded through the school. The students cleared the room as others entered, no doubt also hoping to be able to eat lunch away from the chaos of the cafeteria. Nathaniel walked down to the caf as it gradually filled with students. Removing a few dollars from his pocket he walked to a snack machine. He would never eat the school's lunches. There were rumors spreading about the food. Those that ate it got sick...at least the lucky ones. The exaggeration made him laugh but he knew there was a good basis for it and so he never bought school lunch. Only the goodies from the snack machine that he knew weren't made by the school he would get. Nathaniel approached it and slipped in a few dollars. He punched in his choices for a bag of Frito's, a Fruit Punch Snapple, and a small bag of chocolate chip cookies. He gathered them from the bin as they were dispensed along with his few dimes in change and headed back to Mr. Hammets classroom.

Scattered about the room were small groups of students, maybe three or four each. Nathaniel recognized their faces but knew none of them personally. He couldn't blame them for being here. He sure as hell would not and did not eat amongst the mob that ceaselessly crowded the cafeteria. A hundred voices and conversations all blurring into an unintelligible roar that was enough to give him a migraine. Mr. Hammet's room was more of a refuge than a classroom at the moment. Even so, Nathaniel did not sit near anyone. He picked up his bag and deliberately found a place as far away from them as possible. It wasn't that he didn't like them. He just wasn't in the mood to be involved in conversation with one of his peers...ever.

He had just slouched into his chosen seat when Mr. Hammet strolled over and sat next to him. Nathaniel gave him a half-hearted smile and opened his Frito's. As he crunched into them Mr. Hammet spoke.

"Nathaniel, why don't you ever eat with anyone? You must have at least a few friends or acquaintances in this school."

Nathaniel swallowed his mouthful of salty chips and answered, "Actually I don't, I haven't really met anyone here who I would enjoy being friends with."

Mr. Hammet inquired, "Don't you want friends though? It's tough without them. Friends are a valuable thing in ones life."

"It isn't that I don't want friends I just..." He paused unsure of how he felt himself. "I'm just not in a rush to find any, I think I am doing ok on my own." Mr. Hammet nodded deciding not to question him further on the subject. "Well it's your final year of school, what are you going to do when you get out of here? Have any plans?"

His immediate response was, "I plan on getting out of this place as soon as I possibly can.

Besides that though…I am going to be a musician and tour all the time playing shows." A smile spread about his face, beaming with confidence.

"Quite ambitious, you like music then?"

"Like? I love it. I would have lost my mind in a place like this without my music."

"You don't like it here?"

"No...honestly, I hate it here." A small scowl spread across his face. "I hate this town and how nothing ever changes. There is so much more world out there and I would bet my life that just about anyplace is more interesting that here."

Mr. Hammet chuckled, "Your right, there is a lot more world out there. Leaving might be good for you. You need to experience the world, find your place and what you want to do. I guarantee you will feel better then."

Nathaniel's grimace passed and he smiled as best he could. His mentor's words did little to comfort him. It wasn't just that he was bored, he felt empty. He felt the world passing before him and he knew he was missing out on something. Nothing he did ever truly satisfied him. There was more and he wanted to find it.

Mr. Hammet stood from his seat and patted Nathaniel on the back, attempting to reassure his student and returned to his cluttered desk at the front of the class. Nathaniel sat in silent reflection, finishing his lunch.