Like any rational human being, I just freaked out for a little while. After all, I did venture through some sort of otherworldly plane. Then I find myself to be in front of Westhaven. Yeah…at the moment, this was incredibly creepy.

So after I was finished screaming, I stopped, dead silent for a second to see if anyone would come out of their house to see who made the scream. Nobody came, thankfully. I looked down at my hand, eyeing the marker I used to write my name in the inside of the watchtower...then at the name I wrote on the plaque. My name.

Yeah…this is totally creepy. I thought, but I still marched on, past the sign that said Westhaven Street and into the dark neighborhood.

Nobody is exaggerating when they say Westhaven is an abandoned neighborhood. I know, it sounds like something out of a corny horror movie or something, but Westhaven's population was zero. As I walked in, I could immediately feel…the lack of presence inside the neighborhood. The houses on either side of the road were either towed down or just…abandoned. The street lights weren't on, making it completely dark. I could only see a few feet in front of me.

"Flashlight…right." I thought out loud, taking out my flashlight and clicking it on. It was a little better now that I could see a little more than a few feet in front of myself, 'course the only glimpse of anything I got was the occasional lamp post and just…grass.

Well…this is boring. I thought to myself. What was I so scared for in the first place? This neighborhood was nothing but lamp posts and abandoned houses. I even determined that the serial killer wasn't even there. So, I simply turned around and began walking in another direction, back to where I came from.

Fate, apparently, had other plans.

I heard gunshots right as I was about to exit. Now, this wasn't a simple gunshot…no, this was a full blown gunfight. Part of me wondered how the cops didn't notice this…or even the residents next to the neighborhood, but another part of me made me push on. In the distance, I could see red and orange lights flicker on and off rapidly – gunfire. I could see groups of shadows flickering against the walls, which showed me that there were multiple people involved. These weren't serial murders…these were gang killings.

I knew I was stupid for doing it, but I felt compelled to go towards the fire. It's as if I knew I was supposed to be there…fate was guiding me. I slowly and reluctantly walked across the sidewalk, my flashlight on so I made sure not to make any noises to alert them. I wasn't going to be a victim of gang violence anytime soon.

Finally, I reached the cul-de-sac that had both sides shooting at each other. But that's when I started seeing strange things – walls of rock shielding a group of them as they all took cover from the gunfire that was being thrown at the people from the other side. They seemingly took turns shooting, or they'd occasionally shoot a volley of bullets at the same time.

I hid behind a rusted, broken down car and observed. Something told me I should watch them…and frankly I was pretty interested myself. The whole scene became all the more stranger when I saw one group shoot flame out of their fingertips, and another group block it with a wall of darkness.

At this point, I thought I was dreaming again. I mean, to my knowledge, people couldn't just shoot flame out of their fingers, or even create walls of darkness. But right in front of me…this was all happening. Two gangs were shooting at each other then occasionally doing something strange, like slicing one of the other party's hands off with seemingly just a thought.

What was even stranger is that neither parties had any clothing on that made me identify them as gang members…one side simply were people – mostly men – with guns, and the other side were simply the same…people with guns.

Eventually they ran out of ammo, which was pretty relieving, I guess… That is, until they simply threw either energy, flame, or other things at each other. One side apparently thought, "This is enough!" and closed his eyes in an intense focus. The other side stopped and looked at each other, as if there were something big coming.

And oh…how there was something big coming.

I watched as the very…space in between the two gangs just completely disappeared, making the two groups close enough to knife each other. From there, it was a massacre. Each side took out a bladed weapon and tore each other apart. Swords clanked against each other, blades stabbed into vital areas on the body.

At this point, I was just shaking. Things like this shouldn't happen…so I assumed that it was a dream. I pathetically resorted to pinching myself to wake myself up, but as the annoying pain flared on my forearm, I was forced to accept the reality – this reality. People could shoot fire out of their fingertips, or just…delete space like that.

I did what anyone else would do. I took off and ran.

I was almost to the end of the neighborhood, panting and sweating, when one of the guys just appeared in front of me. Now…this guy didn't look very human. No…he was hideous…sure, you could tell that he was human, but now he just looked grotesque. His nose was oversized, and his lips and eyes bulged out. His ears were small, and his eyes were completely black, contrasting to his silvery-pale skin. His appearance was unnatural…but if he put on makeup or something, he might be able to pass it for a genetic mutation.

And then a smirk stretched across his face – a long, twisted smirk.

Seeing as how he appeared right in front of me when I was sprinting, I jumped and fell on my back. I looked up at him with a horrified look on my face, but the man only responded by taking his pistol out of the holster in his belt.

"Don't be scared," The man said in a twisted, soothing voice. For that second, I felt compelled to not be scared…I felt like it wasn't that big of a deal. "give up your will to The Abyss."

I simply closed my eyes. Dying…I knew that it would happen someday, like when I was old and wrinkly or something, but not like this. I should've listened to my dad…this place really was trouble. But here I was..at approximately 3:40 in the morning…about to get shot in the streets like a dog or something.

BANG!

"MY HAAND!" Everything was going so quickly. I heard a gunshot, but I didn't…feel dead. I didn't think I was dead. No…I was definitely breathing, so I was definitely alive. The shock of it was almost overwhelming…and I felt tired, as if I were burned out or something.

"YOU MOTHERFUCKER. LOOK WHAT YOU DID TO MY HAND! DAMN ACANTHUS MAGES, DAMN—"

I looked up at who was going to be my killer. The gun was on the ground, half destroyed and covered in blood. My killer filled the air with screams of pain, curses, and death threats, but I eventually saw what seemed to be bony, bloody nub where his hand was supposed to be…as if his hand was blown off.

"I'LL KILL YOU. I WILL FIND WHERE YOU LIVE AND FUCKING SCOOP YOUR EYEBALLS OUT WITH A SPOON. DO YOU HEAR ME?"

I needed to get out of there before this guy attracted too much attention. In his confusion and anger, he fell to the ground. His once angry curses and rambles were reduced to unintelligible babbling and curses under his breath. I got up slowly and ran in the direction I was heading to before…which was out of the neighborhood. More specifically, it was back to my house.

I thought about my near death experience on the way. The whole experience was shocking, and I was tired and confused, but I remembered the feeling I felt when I was close to death. I completely surrendered my mortality, leaving it to the bullet that would've pierced my head. But then it turned out that the gun had exploded somehow and blew his hand off? When does that ever happen? It was definitely improbable…that couldn't have happened on normal conditions. But maybe I was just…lucky.

Yeah, it sounded stupid. I mean, I've never been lucky a day in my life, but the situation that happened just then was clearly lucky. What were the odds? It's not like his gun wasn't prepared the right way. They aren't muskets, so you don't have to give them to a professional to prepare anymore, right?

But no…I had legitimately survived a murder attempt. Someone's hand blew up trying to shoot me, and I was here running for my life.

I'll have to be honest…I felt invincible after that. I felt that nothing could hurt me…and really, who could blame me for thinking such a thing? As far as I was concerned, I was the luckiest guy in the world, and nobody could hurt me. Not ever.


The next morning, I was grateful to find that my parents were asleep – and oblivious that I had sneaked out that night. My luck…I was just on a roll. Maybe god was giving me a freebie after all of those years of awkwardness and the horrible bullying in fifth grade. All other guys in high school were having their good time, but now it was time for the Golden Age of Mason Schneider. I was going to live my life the best I could from that moment on.

I even got up at a good time, which allowed me my usual morning routine of driving to Starbucks. As I got myself up, I looked at the mirror. It was the same old dorky look…glasses and a button up shirt, probably jeans also. How was I going to have my Golden Age if I looked so…stupid? No, I was actually going to try. This day and all other days afterward were going to be the best day of my life if it killed me.

"Perfect." I said to myself, looking into the mirror and finally being pleased with my appearance. I wore a white tee shirt with an abstract symbol on it – a four dimensional cube or something – and black pants with a hooded leather jacket on. Since it was cold, I wore my black beanie. Being cool didn't mean you had to be cold, right?

I then took the keys and told my parents I was going to Starbucks, and they simply waved me off, clearly tired still. I got into the car and started the ignition, pulling out of the driveway and driving down the road, towards where Starbucks was. Much to my amazement, none of the jaded New Yorker drivers were driving like…well, jaded New Yorkers. No, this was actually pretty orderly…at least orderly enough for me to safely get by.

When I parked by the Starbucks, however, the place was pretty packed. I groaned, but I wasn't going to let this ruin my day. It was just a long line, it's not like it was going to pull out a gun and try to kill me. Laughing at my thought, I got out of the car and walked through the door.

The sound of acoustic music filled the overall chill café; which was nice…I wasn't a good fan of the music, but I loved the atmosphere. It was a great start for breakfast in the morning. People around my age or older conversed in the line or at tables, and I just slid my hands into my pocket.

"So, did you hear?" I overheard one of the conversations. "This guy appeared in the hospital last night…his hand was blown off. The cops asked him how this happened, but he wasn't talkin'."

"Ooh! Yeah, I heard that! Wasn't he…deformed or something?" The speaker's friend asked back.

"Yeah…it looked like some weird form of down syndrome. I dunno…maybe he was a retard and he just blew his hand off with a gun?" The speaker said back. I glanced over at them, and it was a guy with a reasonably cute girl. They looked like they were on a date or something.

But it seemed that guy who accidentally blew his hand off with his own gun went into the hospital. I felt the urge to find out who he was…who he was working for. What I saw back there when people were shooting flames out of their hands.

DAMN ACANTHUS MAGES! I remembered that guy saying back last night. A few questions went through my head…like what exactly was an Acanthus? Now that I thought about it…it was a species of plant, right? And he called me a mage…so did he mean to call me an Acanthus Plant Mage? I was kind of dumbfounded…I mean, why would he call me an Acanthus? Maybe it was some gang code or something…I'd have to look it up when I got back home.

"Hey…your order?"

The voice of the rather adorable cashier broke me out of thought. But she seemed a little…different from the others. In contrast to the neat and kempt style that most girls at this café tried to maintain, this girl didn't even bother. She had unkempt, curly black hair that went to her shoulders, and red highlights along her curls. Her bangs parted at her forehead, just enough to show her blue-green eyes. Her pale skin had freckles that contrasted to her black hair. Her nose was straight and triangular, and as she looked up at me, I could see a few forehead lines.
Underneath her Starbucks apron, I could see a bright, green neon shirt. Her pants were just as loud; they were a bright red with white splattered on them as if it were paint.

I thought she was one of those scene girls or something, granted, a pretty cute scene girl, so I didn't rule out talking to her.

"Oh! My order. I'll have, uhh…" I turned my head upwards to look at what they had sale. I decided I'd just get what I usually got. "I'll just have a caramel mocha chino with extra whipped cream."

The girl shrugged. "It'll be done in a few seconds."

I simply nodded and walked away. Wait, no, I actually wanted to talk to her. I remembered that...but by the time I remembered, there was already someone in my place taking their order. I supposed fair was fair…after all, I'd at least gotten a good start to the day. Luck couldn't take me everywhere.

After getting my coffee, I simply walked back to the register once everybody had ordered and I hadn't seen anyone else coming in. Sure, I was lucky and everything that she didn't look at me like I was an idiot, but I still didn't know how to start the conversation. But of course, she was looking right in front of me at that point, and I had no choice but to say something.

"So, uh – hey!" I began. So far, so good.

The girl behind the cash register simply arched an eyebrow. "…Hello?"

Yeah, this conversation was totally getting somewhere. "So, uh…uh… You have a pretty interesting sense of fashion."

There was a short period of silence. And by short, I actually mean long. The girl served a few other customers before handing over her shift to some dude that was previously making the drinks. Apparently it was her break or something, because she walked from behind the register to me.

"Sorry about that. It tends to be hard to speak during work, y'know? So, what were you saying about my fashion?" She asked, gesturing over to a table near the window so that we could speak. Man…she was much better at this than I was. But I couldn't stop here.

Luck, don't fail me now… I thought to myself.

"Well, uh…I was saying it was pretty nice. So, you from around here?"

"I've been living here since I was five, yeah. I live in the neighborhood. I was born in Miami though. What about you?"

"I was born in Boston." I replied. Her eyes widened a little, as if that had caught her attention. I don't know what was so fascinating about Boston though…sure, I've never been there and everything, but it couldn't be much different from any other city, right? "But I moved around a lot. Seattle after Boston…then here in the Big Apple."

She smiled. And, for the record, she probably had to have the cutest smile ever. "Well, that's pretty cool. You must've seen a lot of ancient cultures, huh?"

I nodded. "So, why don't I ever see you at George Washington High then?"

I silently prayed to whatever deity that was in charge of the situation that she didn't go to the school and that the reason I never saw her was because she didn't go there. You know…as opposed to me never paying enough attention to see her around.

"Well…I go to a private school. Very expensive." And that's where I got intimidated. Her parents were rich? My parents were low-middle class at best.

"Ah, so you're one of those super smart kids that have the ability to move things with their minds?" I asked in a joking tone.

She laughed at my joke. Woah…I really was getting lucky here. That joke was pretty corny, if I do say so myself. "Yes, I'm one of those super smart kids with the ability to move things with my mind. Fear me and my psionic prowess."

Be still, my gentle heart.

I chuckled. "But seriously though, what kind of school?"

"The school is secret. Won't be able to find us on Google Maps or anything…in fact, the headmaster doesn't want us to tell anyone about it, soo…"

It seemed understandable, so I didn't pry. "I see, I see. Say…how about we go on a date somewhere? Next Friday, maybe?"

She seemed pretty surprised that I popped the question so early and to be honest, I was too. I guess that my luck had given me confidence…I literally felt as if I could do anything if I left it up to chance. Luck was my friend…and it would never let me down.

"Confident one, aren't you?" She tilted her head.

"Well…I've always been lucky."

Uh-oh. Her eyebrow arched, as if she were thinking something over. There was a short period of silence as she looked me over for some reason. At first, I thought that I was too confident and she thought I was some kind of asshole, but then she asked me a simple question:

"Define…lucky."

"Well," I began, finding no reason to lie to her. "I always seem to get through things easier if I just…go with the flow, if that makes sense. That's all I meant."

And now she was frowning as if she were really thinking something over. The suspense in the silence was killing me, I felt as if she was going to shoot me down in the cruelest way possible.

"I-Is…there something wrong…?" I asked, almost timidly.

"…No." She said finally, breaking the silence. She shrugged casually, but I had a feeling that she was playing it cool for some reason. "Yeah, we can go out – tomorrow."

I didn't really care much about her taking charge and changing the time of the date. In fact, the only reason I didn't make it Sunday was in case she was either super-religious or she'd take it as me going in too fast.

"Tomorrow…got it." I agreed.

"Meet me here? Seven o'clock? We'll go for a walk." And then she gave me that cute smile again. I couldn't help but agree.

"Seven o'clock…gotcha."

Weirdly, I couldn't tell if I was asking someone out, or getting asked out myself…