Unbreakable

Seeing as I haven't finished a story yet, and I'm bad at being constant with them, I really SHOULDN'T be starting a new one. But I was so inspired, that I had to. And if there is EVER a time where it's been more than a month and I haven't updated ANY of my stories, please please please please PLEASE send my a private message and remind me. I like writing, but sometimes I get distracted. :) I've been working on and developing my specific voice when I write, but don't be alarmed if it happens to change somewhere in the story-line, but hopefully you'll like it.

They all speak of me as a hero. So I stand and wait patiently as the fawn over me, complimenting my fighting style, obsessing over every move I make. I can't go anywhere without knowing someone is talking about me. Boasting about my accomplishments, while whispering my flaws behind closed doors, in the safety of their own homes. I wish I could tell them. Speak out and tell them what I thought-what I thought about their petty comments about my hair or my clothes and their exaggerated tales they tell. I wish I could tell them to shut up. I wish I could make them feel what I felt, what I still feel. They think what I went through changed their lives forever. And it has. But it's scarred mine. I've seen things I never wanted to see. I've done things I never wanted to do.

I often find myself thinking of what would have happened if I had never been out that night, the night it changed it all. My whole life would be completely different. I would probably be on my foster parents couch somewhere, drinking a Pepsi and counting the days until the weekend, like every other normal kid out there. But I know it's not possible, never possible for me to live a normal life and not be haunted by my experiences.

I often find myself thinking of what would have happened if I had never been out that night, the night it changed it all. Because I remember it like it was yesterday.

I heard the screen door whine as it shut behind me. As soon as I stepped out, I could sense the change. The change in the wind, the air, the pressure. My dog pulled eagerly at the leash, she too sensing the change in barometric pressure. Gusts of wind attempted to bend trees and bushes over backwards, and blew the ominous clouds ever closer towards me. It was twilight, and down the street in order, the streetlight flickered to life. One near the end was feebly trying to stay on, flickering in and out of life, uttering it's death sound-the irritating buzzing and clicking noise. The sky above me was an array of colors; purples, pinks, dark grays, navy blues-all jumbled into an enticing mess. The once stale, still standing air was on the move, pushing at my back, beckoning me forward.

It was magical.

With each step I took I was aware of my surroundings. The crunch of the few leaves on the ground, the wind blasting strands of my hair in all directions. Each step was sacred. Something new to be cherished and intrigued by. It was like being introduced to a whole new world.

M dog, Maddy, was straining at her leash, urging me to follow her down our routine walk. Usually it was a rut that I detested going down, but tonight, something was different.

I stepped into a steady pace beside her. Her usual nose-to-the-ground walking technique had oddly vanished today, and instead she held her head high, as if expecting something. We walked for a few moments, and I watched in awe the changes going on around me. Clouds that had been slightly in the distance were growing closer and closer. With each step I took, the uneasy feeling in my stomach grew larger and larger.

I should have turned back there.

But I didn't. I kept strolling along, ignoring my intuition, ignoring my conscience, ignoring one of most primitive part of me.

I was halfway around the lake when I began to hear it. It was the wind whistling across the lake. Dark wavs began to lap at the little banks, and the wild life was huddled quietly against the undergrowth. As I walked farther, the whistling became louder, almost like a siren. By now, the wind was in a frenzy, trees shuddered dangerously above me, the dark clouds seemed to swirl and converse just over my head, and a lone paper bag was dragged down the sidewalk.

They say animals can sense when things are about to go wrong. They can feel it in their bones, buzzing through their system like lightening-a feeling so powerful, that they listen. Humans have grown since their time as animals, and with that time, that sense has become less powerful, less influential. Because that would have been my last time to turn back. Like an idiot, I kept going.

Five minutes passed, and the wailing wind was unbearable. The uneasy feeling in my stomach had gone away, and thinking that that was a good sign, I kept walking. I had one goal in mind, and that was to finish my walk.

I only stopped when the sky caught fire.