Astrum

Prologue: Stale Water

I had lost my grip on reality.

I realize that now, but when I was young, I couldn't understand what was going on.

All the aliens and ghosts and big foots I saw weren't real. They were simply nightmares in my waking-world, or simply an illusion to empower myself under stress; much like why an imaginary friend was created. Only, my imaginary friend was an imaginary enemy.

It took me till the age of fourteen to come to terms with my insanity. There I was, all locked up in the Crazy House for Teenage Boy, swallowing pills and taking shots, and then seeing the occasional doctor here and there to talk to me about what I saw to realize everything was just imaginary. It made sense that when I was in the mental home on their meds I would see things, but when the dosages were increased, they vanished. At one point, I thought I saw him, Zim, without his disguise and on his PAK legs there to defeat me, but when he left sullenly, I knew.

All of these thoughts in my head I'd create, illusions, creations of a better world, they were all fake. All made by me, for me. I hadn't even realized how much I was bullied at school until I came to my senses, and thus, I started to blend in with them. I wore their clothes, got contacts, put my focus on things that normal kids would focus on. I played the tuba for a short while, until I lost interest. I tried to pick up art, but I was no good at that, either. I played football with the other boys for a short time until I realized I didn't have the build. I had forced myself to be normal, to have friends, to not get picked on as often, to ignore my self-created fake reality.

Things became perfect, and the more I gained my sanity, the less I would have to deal with the alien abducting my thoughts.

I'm not sure when I stopped seeing and stopped hearing him all together, but I think I was around the age of seventeen. At times, however, I must admit, that I missed the chases, even though I was just the crazy boy running down the street over the figment of his own imagination, it was fun. I had somebody to talk to, and he almost seemed more like a friend than an enemy. Gaz claimed she had never seen him, and my father, too. Just as well, no use supporting these happy memories of saving the world.

Now, I'm just 21, with a lousy mundane job I work after college and on weekends. I've almost finished school, and I'm majoring in chemistry, something my dad wished for me. I say, although everything is so routinely done, everything is great now. Life is steady, predictable, no big-foots, and everything is underway.

Currently, I'm working the nightshift at Books 'n Boxes, the local books store. I'm stuck at the cash register with a cheap book in hand, flipping through the pages as I read. I catch a sigh escaping my lips as I get more and more involved in the book, unaware that I have a pair of eyes stuck to me. I hear somebody close to me clear their throat. I round my eyes up as fast as I can to see my manager getting onto me about reading a book while on duty.

"You can never tell if somebody is shoplifting from the store while you head is down," The brunette woman sneered, rolling her eyes.

"Yes ma'am, I'm sorry," My book gets bookmarked as quickly as I can move, before getting stuffed and bent into its hiding place under the counter. "It won't happen again."

"Dib, you said that last time," She sighed. "Seriously, though. Pay attention. No customer will feel open to ask any help from an employee who's lost himself in a story."

But aren't we all lost in stories of some kind or another? There isn't a moment in my own life, that I know of, that I wasn't thinking about some other serious issue reflecting around myself, or somebody else, or the world. "I'll pay attention, Rox. I promise."

My manager curled her red-painted nails to her arm and twirled away. "Start to lock up in ten." Her click-clack-click shoes click-clack-clicking her away.

I let another sigh drop from my lips as I glanced around the store. I had to find something to occupy my attention, since somebody (which that somebody was usually me) had to keep watch over the register. A boring job, but I got paid alright.

My eyes glazed from here to there around the store. I noticed things for the hundredth time like the little bumps on the walls, and the lint that danced around the air from time to time. The sign marked 'fiction' had forever long ago lost its clean look when teenagers doodled over it with black sharpie. That was something interesting to look at, in a way. It was, more than the other things, at least.

I yawned silently before propping my head to my palm, elbow now resting against my counter. I catch something purple out of the corner of my eye, right in front of the counter, something that I must have been an idiot not to have caught. Following the purple and black striped cloth I seemed to have just noticed, I see a person.

I withdrew my breath and sat up straight. My heart starts up in my chest, and I could feel my breath quicken before all together stopping. The girl was walking up closer to me now! But I don't get it! Straight, short, interesting violet hair parted off to the side… intriguing and mesmerizing eyes, pale skin, a beauty mark, an invader's logo on her shirt. My eyes dart all about her, memorizing, remembering, memorizing, remembering, until she comes up to my counter.

She's not real, she's a hallucination. I'm bored and I'm tired and I'm hallucinating, I tell myself in my head over and over again. How could she be here? And still eleven-years-old? Of course this wasn't real. There was no way this could possibly be Invader Tak. She wasn't real, just like the rest of them. But why was my heart racing like this?

"Can I help you?" I hear myself ask in all monotone, trying to keep out the anxiety and surprise from my voice.

The girl stares at me for the longest time, her strange eyes locked on mine. I say nothing else to her, but I could see she was trying to read my mind or something else of that sort.

'Can I help you', what am I kidding? She wasn't even there! The real Tak would have aged at least a little, right? The real Tak wasn't real at all, really.

Suddenly, the violet-haired girl turned for the door, now marching out with a look of superiority on her face. I let out yet another sigh, relief that this walking nightmare had left my head, leaving me alone for the most part. I'll talk to my doctor about it, though. I'll get a higher dosage, and everything will be better. I hope.

For now, however, I should start locking up.