A/N: Hey guys!
I still need someone to tell me how to get italics to appear on uploaded documents. If you know how, please e-mail me soon because I'm going to need it...soon. Thanks for all the wonderful reviews. And just to let you know, I gladly welcome any type of criticism. I really do want to be a better writer (however I make no promises on my grammar improving...I know it's horrible).
Chapter 11
Time was defiantly short, and his was up. He had no intention of lying down and dying and he had the backing of eons of resolve. The only punishment that could be passed on him would have been to keep him in the place he was. But this was no punishment. He was able to cope and because of his confinement he grew stronger. It enabled him to reach out.
It was time.
Darkness...
Water (raintears)...
Pressure pounding...terror...pain...panic...
Breath (gaspingchoking)...
Escape...fleerunflee...
Footsteps heartbeat (thumpthumpthump)...
Flee run...Chris...
No where to hide...
No place to go...
No way out...
NonononononoNoNoNoNoNONONONONO!!!
"NO!"
I sat up with a shout panting, gasping for breath. The memory of the dream fading as reality wrapped itself around me. I was safe. Not running. Not scared.
I heard the pounding of feet and my fear spiked up once again before I got it under control. Something is coming. I winced as a light was flipped on. Sara looked around in panic searching for the threat, but there was nothing.
"I'm sorry," I say as I take a deep breath, "It was nothing...a dream. Sorry for waking you."
She shot me a look of plain disbelief but simply asks if I want to talk about it. I'm grateful but the terror is fading and I know from past experience that the feelings will be completely gone in a few minutes. She nods in understanding and exits the room telling me to try and get more sleep. But I know I will find no rest tonight.
It is an old dream that has haunted me for many years. Every time it comes it's slightly different and when I wake all I am left with is impressions that fade to soon to get anything solid. Mainly fear and terror. Like I'm being chased...or hunted. I can't even remember when they started but they have always been with me. There was no childhood trauma that triggered the dreams they've just always been there. Like a haunting that won't go away. Ghosts of my past...but without the past part.
My hands are shaking. The dream had unnerved me in ways I had forgotten...it had been a long time since my last nightmare.
The clock on the bedside table reads 3:29 and I feel guilty for waking Sara. I sigh, finally feeling calm, and push the covers off my body, get up, and begin to pace the length of the floor...yep, this is me calm. No time like the present to go over the facts in a hopeless mission where the likelihood that I will fail horribly are monumental.
But even as my mind began to catalogue all that still needed to be done my body protests. I've hardly slept in the last few weeks, and that was before the time travel. I'm tired, and although I know the dream will not return tonight there is still a lingering fear. I used to think they were a warning of danger to come and would spend the week after looking over my shoulder, but time proved them to be only nightmares.
The last time I had been troubled by the dream Mom had...and with that thought my pacing halts and my breath hitched in my throat. Mom. Memories began to run through my mind with that one simple reminder. Memories I had not allowed myself to contemplate for the past two years because they were too painful...and I had a job to do. But fatigue threw the floodgates open. Images of day-to-day living, family events, and the occasional demon rushed through my mind. Reassurances and good advice, horrible screw ups and reprimands. It was all there. And it all ended with a limp body and scattered debris.
The anger and all consuming rage that had taken me over with her death had never really left. It was always there...simmering under the surface. I had never allowed myself to mourn. To do so would have been to invite weakness and death. I knew it in my soul, and despite the urgings of Aunt Phoebe and Leo, I refused to let go and feel anything other than rage.
But now, almost two years later in a time when I was truly alone and cut off from all that I had known, anger was not the only emotion I was feeling. There was pain and loss and fear. But there was also love and a deep sense of regret. Although I never acknowledged it, I had always partly blamed myself for her death. Yes, I know it's stupid but the "if only" game is something I had been playing for many years...starting with my dad.
If only I had been more prepared, less scared, anything other than hopeless. If only...
I cease pacing and sit on the edge of the bed and lay down, my mind heavy with the memories I finally allow myself to look at. School, friendships, girlfriends, heartbreaks, loss, pain, joy, family, love...it's all there waiting to be examined and sifted through.
Wyatt begging me to keep his secret when he keyed Mom's car for no reason other than anger. Aunt Phoebe telling me I definitely had "moves" when she was teaching me how to dance. The time Mom was so frustrated at Dad's inability to understand what she was trying to say that she blew a hole in the wall. My first girlfriend Rebecca looking disdainfully at me after breaking up with me in front of her high-class friends. Aunt Paige and her endless stream of dates, and the time she actually called me to bail her out of one. Leo and the look of fear on his face when he healed my broken arm after an attack by an Ashart demon during the final war. The fear of not knowing what truly happened to Aunt Paige. The fear at the thought of losing any more of my family in the endless battles. The fear of failure.
I smile as tears pour down my face. It is a cathartic release that I'm glad no one else is witnessing.
"What a wonderful time to have a breakdown," I mutter, voice thick with sarcasm. But strangely, I feel much better. Lighter and unburdened.
I roll over and curl under the covers and am finally graced with quiet dreams and a semblance of peace.
I still need someone to tell me how to get italics to appear on uploaded documents. If you know how, please e-mail me soon because I'm going to need it...soon. Thanks for all the wonderful reviews. And just to let you know, I gladly welcome any type of criticism. I really do want to be a better writer (however I make no promises on my grammar improving...I know it's horrible).
Chapter 11
Time was defiantly short, and his was up. He had no intention of lying down and dying and he had the backing of eons of resolve. The only punishment that could be passed on him would have been to keep him in the place he was. But this was no punishment. He was able to cope and because of his confinement he grew stronger. It enabled him to reach out.
It was time.
Darkness...
Water (raintears)...
Pressure pounding...terror...pain...panic...
Breath (gaspingchoking)...
Escape...fleerunflee...
Footsteps heartbeat (thumpthumpthump)...
Flee run...Chris...
No where to hide...
No place to go...
No way out...
NonononononoNoNoNoNoNONONONONO!!!
"NO!"
I sat up with a shout panting, gasping for breath. The memory of the dream fading as reality wrapped itself around me. I was safe. Not running. Not scared.
I heard the pounding of feet and my fear spiked up once again before I got it under control. Something is coming. I winced as a light was flipped on. Sara looked around in panic searching for the threat, but there was nothing.
"I'm sorry," I say as I take a deep breath, "It was nothing...a dream. Sorry for waking you."
She shot me a look of plain disbelief but simply asks if I want to talk about it. I'm grateful but the terror is fading and I know from past experience that the feelings will be completely gone in a few minutes. She nods in understanding and exits the room telling me to try and get more sleep. But I know I will find no rest tonight.
It is an old dream that has haunted me for many years. Every time it comes it's slightly different and when I wake all I am left with is impressions that fade to soon to get anything solid. Mainly fear and terror. Like I'm being chased...or hunted. I can't even remember when they started but they have always been with me. There was no childhood trauma that triggered the dreams they've just always been there. Like a haunting that won't go away. Ghosts of my past...but without the past part.
My hands are shaking. The dream had unnerved me in ways I had forgotten...it had been a long time since my last nightmare.
The clock on the bedside table reads 3:29 and I feel guilty for waking Sara. I sigh, finally feeling calm, and push the covers off my body, get up, and begin to pace the length of the floor...yep, this is me calm. No time like the present to go over the facts in a hopeless mission where the likelihood that I will fail horribly are monumental.
But even as my mind began to catalogue all that still needed to be done my body protests. I've hardly slept in the last few weeks, and that was before the time travel. I'm tired, and although I know the dream will not return tonight there is still a lingering fear. I used to think they were a warning of danger to come and would spend the week after looking over my shoulder, but time proved them to be only nightmares.
The last time I had been troubled by the dream Mom had...and with that thought my pacing halts and my breath hitched in my throat. Mom. Memories began to run through my mind with that one simple reminder. Memories I had not allowed myself to contemplate for the past two years because they were too painful...and I had a job to do. But fatigue threw the floodgates open. Images of day-to-day living, family events, and the occasional demon rushed through my mind. Reassurances and good advice, horrible screw ups and reprimands. It was all there. And it all ended with a limp body and scattered debris.
The anger and all consuming rage that had taken me over with her death had never really left. It was always there...simmering under the surface. I had never allowed myself to mourn. To do so would have been to invite weakness and death. I knew it in my soul, and despite the urgings of Aunt Phoebe and Leo, I refused to let go and feel anything other than rage.
But now, almost two years later in a time when I was truly alone and cut off from all that I had known, anger was not the only emotion I was feeling. There was pain and loss and fear. But there was also love and a deep sense of regret. Although I never acknowledged it, I had always partly blamed myself for her death. Yes, I know it's stupid but the "if only" game is something I had been playing for many years...starting with my dad.
If only I had been more prepared, less scared, anything other than hopeless. If only...
I cease pacing and sit on the edge of the bed and lay down, my mind heavy with the memories I finally allow myself to look at. School, friendships, girlfriends, heartbreaks, loss, pain, joy, family, love...it's all there waiting to be examined and sifted through.
Wyatt begging me to keep his secret when he keyed Mom's car for no reason other than anger. Aunt Phoebe telling me I definitely had "moves" when she was teaching me how to dance. The time Mom was so frustrated at Dad's inability to understand what she was trying to say that she blew a hole in the wall. My first girlfriend Rebecca looking disdainfully at me after breaking up with me in front of her high-class friends. Aunt Paige and her endless stream of dates, and the time she actually called me to bail her out of one. Leo and the look of fear on his face when he healed my broken arm after an attack by an Ashart demon during the final war. The fear of not knowing what truly happened to Aunt Paige. The fear at the thought of losing any more of my family in the endless battles. The fear of failure.
I smile as tears pour down my face. It is a cathartic release that I'm glad no one else is witnessing.
"What a wonderful time to have a breakdown," I mutter, voice thick with sarcasm. But strangely, I feel much better. Lighter and unburdened.
I roll over and curl under the covers and am finally graced with quiet dreams and a semblance of peace.