So then he let go. Of his worries and concerns about Rachel followed with a new wave of obsession with his interest in video games. His eyes were clearly strained as he continued to fidget with the small joypad.
His new shining set of S tier armour stood out like a sore thumb in comparison to the dark, murky arena they fought it. The falcon on his shoulder leapt up every attack he delivered with precise and clean timing.
Garfield resorted to a specific strategy while beating up his opponents. Since his special skills didn't require him to pause, he could easily spam them after bringing the foe down to halfway of their health bar
Unfortunately, before he could launch his series of leaps and crushes, his opponent began to swipe at him. Unlike him, their normal attacks required no recharge time so the remainder of the game filled with small swats and slices.
His battle ax struggled to keep up with his opponent's katanas, eventually resulting in his immediate death. The stingy effects of their ultimate skill sizzled as he collapsed, kneeling with his arms clutching a wound on his chest. They emoted hearts at him while his body sunk gracefully into the arena's marbled ground.
DEFEAT
Blasted auto aim!
His hands shook his phone back and forth as he stopped himself from trampling his phone in rage. Garfield couldn't transform into something big and bad in the middle of the school courtyard. There were students around him who would easily see the giant green beast throw a tantrum over a silly mobile game.
'It's just a game. It's just a game. It's just a game' he repeated in his mind. Reminding himself that Richard wouldn't buy him yet another replacement phone for the next year, he resolved his defeat by exiting out of the app and shutting off the screen.
The sky glared a bright orange beam at him, causing Garfield to rub his eyes. Slowly opening them again revealed a messy sight on front of him. His hand hovered on his brow, providing him shade as he squinted at the sight of a breakout fight.
Weren't they just playing basketball?
Garfield resorted to Kori for answers but found her in the center of it all, attempting to calm the boys down. No amount of soda could cool down the angry boys yelling and arguing. Conceivably that was the reason why Garfield himself never participated in any competition events outside of the tower. The noise and heat between the group was immense.
Where has this all began? He took a look at the three guys getting into Victor and Richard's face. He remembered being invite to watch them play since he had nothing better to do. The two needed to practice for tryouts, and Kori and him had stopped by a convenience store for some beverages. Then he had been left on the bleachers like a child while she proceeded to lug the box of soda towards them.
Was he supposed to help her?
He couldn't think of the answer right away. Maybe that was why there were scratches all over the bottom of the box.
So what were the guys fighting over?
Garfield shut his eyes and proceeded to tune into the conversation. In the midst of darkness and the rustle of leaves, he weaved out Richard's firm tone and rigid annunciation.
"You should really watch that voice of yours if you're going to be this bitter after every loss."
Another voice emerged, sounding much more sluggish and slurred. "It's not fair, man!"
"It's two verses three. Of course it isn't fair." The high note at the end of the sentence made Victor's speech recognizable. Garfield could imagine him waggling a finger and saying, "It's not fair that me and Dick have to play against you all."
"What do ya mean?" This person was erratic and loud. His voice overpowered the volume of the rest but for some reason felt shaky and misplaced. "You're beating the shit out of us!"
"Yeah, we gotta separate you two."
"But it's there's still going to be an extra person."
"Then why don't you take a break?"
"No way, I need this more than you do!"
"What about your friend?"
"Oh, Kori doesn't play basketball, man."
"No, not her. The one with that's meditating."
Why did everyone go silent? Garfield could feel his ears twitch at the sound of footsteps emerging towards him. Under the facade of thejewelry, he was sure that his ears were going crazy. A strange chill ran down his spine when the footsteps suddenly stopped, like a horror movie. He peeled his eyes gradually open.
They were all on front of him. Heads dropping in sweat and legs clad in shorts, all five boys stood tall and mighty over his sitting form.
"Gar, what are you even doing?" Richard crossed his arms at the sight of his counterpart.
Garfield grumbled as he heaved himself up, slightly ditzy from a blood rush. He stumbled slightly and punched his friend in the arm when he patted him on the head.
Victor just cackled and yanked his friend to the left. "Come on, dude. You can practice your witchy magic some other time."
He nodded stiffly, trying to dismiss the remark. The pupils in his eyes pierce his leader as Richard shook his head. "Too close Victor, too close."
"Sorry, man."
"Does Gar even play? He seems a bit short?" said the guy with the board shorts and tank top. He broke up the little pity party with his macho arms weaving onto the shoulders of Richard and Garfield.
"He's taller than you, dipshit." Thank god for Victor to come to his defense before Garfield could blabber out a pun about his height.
Another boy, the one with the uneven and shaky voice, popped up beside him with a frown on his freckled face. "It's not that you're short, it's because compared to your friends, you're short. We need a taller teammate to make it more even."
"Hey, I'm taller than Dick by at least a few inches!" Garfield defended himself, pressing an arm into Richard's gut. His leader elbowed him back in annoyance. "This dude secretly wears heels inside his shoes."
"Let's not stray too far from the conversation, shall we?" Richard coughed, loosening his collar with his index finger. "I'm sure you'll do fine with Gar. He's played with us before."
Garfield grabbed the ball from the ground and chucked it into the air. The sound of the ball bouncing off the background shook the ears of the court, causing the three boys to go into panic.
"Are you sure this guy is good?" The slurred voice asked Victor.
Garfield could imagine Victor shaking his head and proudly saying, "Only the best." as he bounced on the flat of his feet high into the air. With a small tap, the ball went back into the net.
The game had gone from a 4 verses 2 to a game of how fast Garfield could steal the ball from under Richard and Victor's noses. The now identified Gary, Erick and Avery sat steaming on the bleachers as they watched their three counterparts barely break a sweat from playing.
"This is getting ridiculous." Garfield heard Gary say from ten meters away. "It's like watching my aunt's dog chase a frisbee around."
The others hummed in agreement, causing Garfield to break into a wicked grin as he swiped the ball from under Victor's nose. "Woof woof, dude."
"Gah!" he exclaimed, stumbling back at Garfield's jumpscare. The mopey blonde mess had popped out of nowhere to steal the ball! "I've got to work on shooting way faster."
Richard snickered as he caught the ball from under the net after Garfield shot. "Slowpoke."
"You sounds so old saying that." Victor mimicked a scratchy and pitchy voice. "Slowpoke."
"Eff off."
The two had begun to square off, launching a series of comebacks at each other. Garfield took this time to get away and grab a fresh drink from Kori.
Shaking the opened can beside his ear, he swore he could hear ice cubes in there. "You know, if you like being on the team, you could always be a water boy."
"I'm not understanding, Garfield." She inquired. "I'm not a boy and I'm not giving out water."
Garfield decided to leave Kori to her own tools, stalking towards the other boys for a seat in the shade.
He sighed, lying against an oak tree. The cold grass tickled the back of his knees and he hummed as the soda opening lined up with his mouth.
Garfield's eyes lolled back when he drunk the sweet soda. The ice hit the back of his throat, causing him to choke and cough up the cube. He swooshed the drink in his mouth before swallowing the rest whole. The sensation of ice cold liquid in his way mouth wasn't everlasting and he kept repeating the practice until his stomach felt queasy.
A fuzzy bumblebee danced around his head, slowly landing on the rim of the can. It shook its furry behind, situating itself comfortable on top of the flooding liquid. He smiled, tipping the can slightly. The bee gently tripped off and buzzed away onto the top of a dandelion.
Twisting the stem of the dandelion, Garfield lifted the flower to his face to inspect such an insect.
His eyes zeroed in on the antennae and the frizzy abdomen of the beautiful lady. She hummed, oblivious to the change in elevation and continued to collect nectar for her hive. When the worker left, he pointed out the light dusting of yellow on the contrasting black legs.
The weed was rather useless now so he chucked it behind his ear, replacing the sight of the flower with the hillside of the fields. Endless plains of grass and dotted trees obstructed the area of the beaming sun.
Garfield squinted at the shadowy figure in the distance. It swayed each step until reaching a shady area, in which it lowered down onto the grass. Was that a person? It had to be.
There was a pungent scent of that lavender again. His eyes were caught in a trance of swirling violet smoke; he swore he could see rows of the tiny flowers decorating a field of spring green grass. A herbal leaf wind with a dusting of musk whisked him away to a dreary December night. Suddenly, the curtain of black fell and the grey room around him grew dimmer and dustier.
His heart ached, causing him to bend over and gasp. There his lank body tumbled onto a Persian rug, dress in a cloak of sand and age. Of what he could make out from the gaping window was a cold moon in midst of the barren land and dried grass. The air had the texture of chalk, with little to no moisture.
Inhaling a deep gulp of that, his mouth devoured the cold, refreshing mist steaming off the lake - possibly from the heat that the building emanated. Though, the air, not misty, held a dazzling sensation of which he could only describe like swallowing a pile of loose snow.
Where was he? He could only wonder what was to become of this room. Leather bound books leaned against each other on shelves of trembling wood. No tapestries hung on the stony walls but the room remained warm due to the crackling fire place.
An ember spat out on his slipper. He helped in response, backing away towards the purple curtains for aid. The heavy velvet, encasing his form, weighed immensely, causing him to stumble against the door.
It shook under the force of his fall. It seemed like the wood was worn down because he had the gut feeling that it would snap in half. There was nothing to hold onto but a flat metal handle.
Why did his heart ache and his body crumble? Was it the blistering winter that made his knees bow towards the ground? He stepped forward, reaching out for the shutters and snapping them tightly shut.
As the windows clattered shut, something else in the room chattered. The door! There was something, no, someone knocking at the wood. Who could it be at such an hour, day and place?
Words came out of his mouth in old fashion English, faster then he could comprehend. As he swung the door open, nothing but empty space greeted him on the other side.
A voice in his head shouted. He clutched the sides of his head, attempting to ease the pain of the incoming headache.
'Lenore?'
He recognized that voice as one of an aged man.
'Lenore!'
A tapping returned to the window, sending him in a frenzy.
His frustration grew as he flung the shutters back open, gasping at the shock of bitter air on his cheeks. There was an onyx eyed bird, gracing the top of his head with its flapping wings. It erratically fluttered about, causing commotion to the fire which sputtered out more sparks then ever before. After circling the room, it sat itself on the marbled sculpture. With a flap of a wing, it situated itself comfortably, contrasting the stark anger of the boy adjacent.
More words, some fluid and some choppy, spilled out of his mouth and wouldn't stop until he had finally announced something about a shore. His finger waggled on front of the bird, manically acting his scolding out as he lectured the sharp beaked beast.
But after finishing his monologue, the midnight prophet cawed a line, sounding shockingly like a familiar word.
The raven said 'Nevermore.'
What the heck was that? Garfield was sent with the back of his head drilled to the side of the tree. Cracking the bones of his neck, he groaned in pain from the shock and collision of the unidentified object against his cheek.
"Garfield!"
"Are you okay, man?"
The dream state he fell in was unmistakable. The vivid images of the strange setting was oddly evident in his mind.
"Why did you hit him?"
"How was I supposed to know he wasn't going to catch it?"
He could see the silhouette of the girl in the distance. An arm distracted him for a second, caressing the sore of his face.
"You good?" Victor asked, feeling out the flesh of his face. After searching for bumps or bruises, he sighed in relief. "I know you're dumb but I'd assume you know what 'catch' means."
"Ah." Garfield was speechless at the figure slowly stalking away. "Yeah dude, I'm cool."
His sharp eyesight could see the swinging satchel on her hip and a puffy cuff of yet another turtle neck she owned. The dark hair pillowed over her shoulders and when she turned back to look in his direction, he could see her lips gently mouth something.
Of course, Victor and Richard didn't notice and were more concerned about the state of his face rather then how far up in 'la la land' he was.
When Rachel disappeared into the forest pathway, she left an eerie quiver in his throat. Was it really Rachel? He didn't have time to double take as she had left the area as soon as he recognized her.
His friends on front of him animatedly picked him up, each tugging on one arm of his. Placing them on their shoulder's, they shot question after question and frantically panicked as they couldn't get a verbal response from him. As Garfield was placed on the bench beside Kori, he was handed a warmed bottle of water one of the three boys found in their bag. Instead of drinking, he gripped the plastic hard and splashed out half of the remains onto his friends.
They insulted him in response but no words punched more then the grimace Kori shot his way. She turned her head towards the pathway and back to him, shaking her head disapprovingly.
When he mouthed 'what', she merely flipped a chunk of her red hair away and returned to scribbling doodles in her notebook.
I legit wrote an essay for the previous author's note but deleted it because I sounded so obnoxious. Now I have no idea what to write. I will be back to post more chapters after my vacation.
I also attempted to add some internal conflict here. To clarify, this excerpt was a dream sequence. It's supposed to highlight how sensitive Garfield's primal instincts truly are. Like how you get nostalgia when you smell something similar to your past. I hope you do eventually understand why this was put in the chapter because its important for the story.
-Catisa~Orsilla