Claire Snoad
Creative Writing – short story
Vampire Diaries
November
I woke again from the same dream, sitting in my maths class watching a black figure enter. I'd had this dream for a week now, every time the same one never seeing his face. Sitting in the dark of my bedroom listening to my parents talk quietly downstairs, usually they talked about me thinking I was asleep, this morning was no exception.
"Maybe she should see a psychiatrist" my dad said quietly. He worked as a banker, but he wasn't as stuck up as my mum, her answer was no surprise.
"No, we've talked about this, she'll grow out of it anyway they aren't as frequent as they were" this obviously meant – what will the neighbours think, if we ignore them they might go away- fat chance, my visions came nearly every night, I just never told them.
"I'm worried, its unnatural but I must say they do come in handy" was dads reply I knew what he meant of course, it always came In handy when he was picking a horse at the bookies and I picked the winner, then he thought my "gift" was wonderful.
"George we aren't wasting money on a psychiatrist, when we don't need one" my mother said sharply.
I knew that was it, her word was final always had been always would. So I got up nosily. Walking down the stairs, I stifled a yawn. The marble floor was cold against my bear feet and my painted toe nails were a contrast against my purple pyjamas. My parents greeted me in the usual way asked how I slept, careful not to mention any dreams. Dad was sitting at the breakfast bar sipping his coffee and reading the paper the way he did every morning, looking up only when he was addressed. Mum was busy fussing over what to give me for breakfast, toast or cereal. The letter box went.
"Get that will you Amanda dear" mum asked putting some bread in the toaster" I hated it when she called me Amanda, my name was Amy and had been for many years only she called me that, dad gave up years ago.
Walking in after getting the mail I handed it to dad. Bills and a postcard from our cousins in Spain.
"Thanks Amy" he said. I ate my toast. At 7.30 dad left for work, kissing mum on the check and ruffling me hair. Clutching his briefcase, telling us he'd be home at 6, he went through the front door go. I drank my glass of orange juice and went to get ready for school, the dreary uniform of Eton with its white shirt and green tie was on my bed; the cloning uniform. I put my hair into the usual ponytail and hurried downstairs. A quick glance at the clock told me that it was 8.30, time to go. Telling mum to have a good day I left. Jazz, my best friend was the only sane person in my life or rather she was the only one who kept me sane. We met at her house, she was late at usual and her brother gave us a lift to school, so that we wouldn't be late. My first class was maths.
That was the one that changed my life forever.