06 December 2009

Newest story

First chapter of the latest story I am writing

Posted 6 December 2009 upon this website by K.S. Wood - please ask permission before reprinting!


I had the nightmare again. This time, my body would not let me wake until I relived the entire incident again.

My nightmare always starts out the same way; I am a teenager again, walking down the dirt road to our old house. It is a long way home from school and I am tired. I keep hoping my parents will tell me that I do not have to go back. I am of the age where I can quit school, but my mother says no. So I continue to trudge the two miles to and from school each and every day.

I look over my shoulder to watch for them. The more popular kids go out of their way to make life very difficult for me. I am the only one of my kind left at the school, as most else of wizard blood has moved away because of persecution. My parents are tired of moving, so here we stay, despite the discrimination from the common-born.

I walk past the last farmstead before ours. I have a half mile to go. All seems well now, so I let my guard down. The sun has already begun to set in the west. I am late today, as I had to stay and clean floors once again.

Suddenly I hear a rush of hooves beating the ground and four horses race past me, stopping in front of me. Four teenagers with menacing stares glare down upon me. Three more horses come up behind me, closing me in a ring of common-born bullies.

“Uh, hello, Marshall.” I address the ring leader, a large, clean-shaven blond with the physical features of a patrician. His pretty girlfriend, the latest girl to fall for him, sits on the back of his stallion, her big, doe-like eyes making me cringe as she looks upon me with disdain.

“You looking at my girl?” Marshall spits out, his face becoming dark with anger that I should dare to cast my eyes her way.

“No, no,” I say as I take a step backwards, trying to get out of his reach. Two of his goons block my way by putting their horses' flanks in my path.

“Hey, Marshall!” a feminine voice calls from the nearby homestead. The goons turn their attention to the caller. I take my opening. I dash down the road like a mad jack rabbit, and start to cut across the fields that separate this homestead from my parents' meager farm. I run as fast as my legs will carry me, my school books banging against my back in their pack. I can hear the boys whooping and hollering behind me as they close in on me. My hope is that I can get to our yard before they catch me.

The house comes into view and I try to increase my speed, but my legs can only go so fast. I make the mistake of looking behind me and suddenly trip, falling flat on my chest in the crops.

I lay there, dazed, for only a few moments when I find myself being grabbed by my shoulders. I dragged over and a fist connects with my jaw. Marshall's angry eyes connect with mine and for a moment I can see the shock in his eyes. But it is fleeting. His goons haul me to me feet and pin my arms behind me so he can pummel me. I try to cry out in pain, but he slams his fist into my stomach, making me lose all wind.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see my father. Fury washes over his face as he storms towards us, his pitchfork in his hand. My mother is a few steps behind him, concern and fear emanating from her.

He grabs Marshall by the shoulder and pulls him off me. He stares him down, as he is taller then the teen by a few inches. Marshall merely sneers at him.

“Let my son go,” Father commands, his voice dark with rage.

The goons do as he says, and as I stumble towards my father, he turns his head, disgraced with me. I collapse on the ground behind him, hurt physically and emotionally.

By this time, there is a crowd of people from the neighboring homesteads that had come to be spectators. They gather around, caring nothing for the diminishing light as twilight fell upon us. My father and Marshall stood, squared off in a tense stand-off.

“Leave my family alone!”

Marshall is fueled by arrogance and egotism. “We will leave you alone once you leave this place, warlock. Your kind just ain't welcome here.”

With that, he spits in my father's face.

My mother reaches out to try to quell the anger that is built up in my father, but it is too late. Too many times my father has had to back down. Today, he has had enough. He raises his hand and summons his energy. He lets out one quick command.

“DESTRUCTOS!” he shouts. A blast of purple light brightens the dusk as every last living soul vanishes in obliteration. My father, mother, and I remain the only people left, surrounded by scorched earth and smoldering mist. My mother stands there, her hand upon my father's arm, for a few brief seconds as she shockingly surveys the scene in front of her.

“What have you done, Robert?”she asks, her voice an anguished whisper.

Before he could muster an answer, there is a loud roar of thunder and a flash of blinding light. Both of my parents disappear forever. I try to stand, but collapse in wearied pain, my body aching from the beating and my mind reeling from what I just witnessed. The ground about me smolders and crackles. Then, the house roars.

That is always how the dream ends, I wake in a cold sweat, my body in pain from the beating I received; a beating I received over ten years ago.

Last night was the same as every other night for the past ten years.

No comments: