BlackMoon Beginnings (3 page)

Caught up in the moment, I don’t see the man
that got past my hero. Grabbing me around the waist, he starts
dragging me into the forest, covering my mouth. I try screaming,
but no sound comes out. My struggling is futile as the man is much
larger and stronger than me. He carries me farther into the forest,
surrounding me with darkness.

With a gasp, I bolt upright and frantically
look around. I’m alone in the dark living room. No one is dragging
me into the forest. It was just a dream. Something falls off of my
lap and lands with a thud onto the floor. My breathing is fast and
labored and my body is covered in a sheen sweat. I wait a few
moments for my eyes to adjust to the darkness around me. Apparently
I fell asleep on the couch. I’m still in the clothes I’d been
wearing earlier. Jane must have spent the night at Ross’s because
she would usually wake me up.

Grabbing the book that I kicked off the couch
when I awoke, I get up and walk upstairs to my room. Turning the
ceiling fan on, I crawl into bed, hoping to get a dreamless night
of sleep. I lay in bed for hours until sleep finally comes to
me.

My dreams that night were filled with a man
with deep green eyes.

Shortly after going to bed, I am woken up by
the sun streaming from my bedroom window, hitting my face.
Groaning, I get out of bed and walk to the bathroom to take a
shower. I step into the shower and turn the water on as hot as it
will go, hoping that it would help wake me up and shake off the
remnants of the dream last night. Standing beneath the hot water, I
slowly feel the exhaustion leave me. My muscles relax and the fog
in my mind drifts away, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

As I walk down the stairs, I stop to look at
all of Jane’s photos on the wall. I walk past these photos every
day, but have never actually stopped to look at them. It upsets me
that she has so many photographs and memories, while I have
nothing. The wall is covered with photos of her, her friends and
family members, all smiling and laughing; happy and content.

I am suddenly overcome with a feeling of
sadness. I’ll never have that. I am an only child. My father left
before I was born and my mother died in a car accident a year ago.
My mother hated taking pictures, so I don’t have many of her. I
have one picture of her in my possession. I stop at the most recent
photograph of Jane and her boyfriend, Ross, both staring into each
other’s eyes, smiling. Will I ever get that?

I continue walking down the stairs until I
reach the floor length mirror near the front door. I look at my
reflection in the mirror. I’m wouldn’t say I’m pretty, but I’m not
that ugly either. I’m pretty average, I think. I’m a little over
5’3” and thin, yet curvy. My pale skin tone accentuates my long
dark, curly chestnut hair that reaches down to the middle of my
back. Light hazel eyes look back at me.

Unless I get out of this town, I’ll never
have that Jane and Ross relationship. No one wants to hang around
the quiet girl and no one will take the time to get to know me
better. Everyone is quick to jump to conclusions and listen to the
rumors swirling around.

Tears well up in my eyes and I blink rapidly
to get them to go away. I won’t cry. I refuse to. I haven’t cried
since my mom died and today will not be the day I start again.
Walking into the kitchen, I see a note on the counter from
Jane:

Ryanne,

Going away for the weekend with Ross. You
better read that book and study while I’m gone! Failing is not
acceptable. I’ve left the car for you in case of an emergency. See
you again on Monday!

Jane

I drop the letter, letting it fall back on
the counter, and go to the refrigerator to look for something to
eat.

When I get back to my room, I plug my iPod
into the dock, play “Lego House” by Ed Sheeran, and then turn on my
laptop. Singing along with the words, I log into my Facebook
account. I don’t get on it often, because frankly I don’t care
about it. Today, however, I have a goal. I go onto Lily Mooris’s
page, the most popular girl in the school, and search through her
friends list, searching for one person in particular. I don’t know
his last name, so finding him is going to be difficult.

After an hour of searching, I start to feel
like a stalker. Colton didn’t show up on anyone’s friends list. I
guess he doesn’t have a Facebook account. I thought everyone had an
account these days. I mean, nothing is official unless it’s on
Facebook, right? Turning off the computer, I grab the book and walk
over to my bed and sit down. Opening it, I start reading:

“
Then she noticed that there was
something crunching under her feet. “I wonder, is that more
mothballs?” she thought, stooping down to feel with her hand. But
instead of feeling the hard, smooth wood of the floor of the
wardrobe, she felt something soft and powdery and extremely cold.
“This is very odd,” she said, and went on a step or two further.
Next moment she found that what was rubbing against her face and
hands was no longer soft fur but something hard and rough and even
prickly. “Why, it is just like branches of trees!” exclaimed Lucy.
And then she saw that there was a light ahead of her; not a few
inches away where the back of the wardrobe ought to have been, but
a long way off.”

-
The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe, C.S. Lewis

I throw the book across the room, watching as
it falls to the ground near my closet. This book is so stupid. I
can’t believe that Mrs. Applegate is making me read this. I wonder
how close the movie is to the book…

Getting off the bed, I go and search for a
snack. Grabbing an apple, I walk into the living and turn the TV
on. Harry Dillion, the local news weatherman, is talking about the
strange weather.

“Unexplainable weather patterns have been
popping up recently all throughout the central part of the state.
No storm systems have shown up on our radar systems, so there is
almost no way for us to track these storms.”

I walk back into the living room and grab the
jar of peanut butter to add to my apple slices. Opening the kitchen
drawer, I grab out a butter knife and head back into the living
room.

“Another Maine teen has been reported
missing: seventeen year old Missy Granger was last seen walking
home from school last Thursday.” A school photo of Missy flashes
across the screen. “At the moment, police have no leads. This most
recent report brings the total tally up to seven teens. If you have
any information, call 1-555-STP-CRME.”

Seven teens? That’s a little scary. I turn
the TV off, grab my snack, and walk back upstairs. Suddenly, I am
overcome with an eerie feeling that leaves goose bumps on my arms.
I look around the room, looking for anything strange or out of
place, but can’t find anything. Everything is in order, but it
feels like someone is watching me. The feeling leaves as quickly as
it came, leaving me wondering if I ever even felt it.

I sit on the bed and prop myself against the
wall, attempting to get comfortable. “Ugh, you can do this Ryanne.
You need to do this,” I tell myself. Opening up to the page I left
at, I begin to read again.

“
And then she saw that there was a light
ahead of her; not a few inches away where the back of the wardrobe
ought to have been, but a long way off.”

I stop reading and look around, wishing that
I could escape into another world that easily. It would be nice to
go somewhere else—to start over fresh, with new people who didn’t
know of your history and couldn’t judge you because of it.

Finishing the chapter, I close the book and
put it against my pillow. Looking around, I begin to realize how
boring this weekend is going to be all alone in this house working
on homework and studying. Oh joy. I bang my head against the wall.
Realizing how much force I used, I am anticipating the loud bang
and a headache to start, but it never does. The wall is soft.
Confused, I turn around and look at it. It is the same off-white
color it has always been. I touch the wall, not quite sure what I
am expecting, but it doesn’t feel any different. The wall is cold
and hard again.

Puzzled, I turn around and look around the
room. The strange feeling has returned. The bottom of my stomach
tightens and my airways constrict. I’m just being paranoid.
Calm
down
. I always get like this when I’m home alone. Everything
makes me paranoid. Every floorboard creak or electronic sound makes
me question if I am actually alone.

Closing my eyes, I lean back to rest against
the wall, trying to calm my nerves. However, this time, I don’t hit
the wall. I am thrust backward and am overcome with a feeling of
falling. The world around me begins to blur as bright colors and
random shapes and symbols cloud my vision.

Then everything goes black.

“Uffh,” My body hits the ground hard. The
wind is knocked out of my lungs and I’m having trouble catching my
breath. This is the second time I’ve been thrown to the ground
recently. I close my eyes and try to breathe normally, willing my
body to cooperate. Every bone, muscle, and fiber in my body begins
to ache, so I just lay there waiting for the pain to subside. With
my eyes still closed, I assess myself and realize that nothing is
broken or sprained. Groaning, I push myself into a seated position.
When I reach an upright position I look around and am utterly
confused by what I see.

“Where the heck am I?”

I am no longer in my small second story
bedroom. I’m in the middle of a grassy field. The sky is a shade of
blue that I have rarely seen before: the vibrant blue that only
seems to exist in those desktop wallpapers of the beaches on new
computers. The grass is the greenest green possible and there are
huge trees with voluminous leaves everywhere around me. Random wild
flowers are dispersed throughout the open field. I would have loved
this area if I had any idea where I was.

Jane is going to kill me.

My body aches as I attempt to stand. Looking
around, I see movement in the closest tree.

“Hello? Is anyone there?” I call out. There
is no reply and no more movement. I brush it off as paranoia and
look around again in search of a trail. Unable to find anything,
I’m about to give up and walk blindly into the forest when I see
the movement again.

I cautiously step closer to the tree,
squinting, trying to see what is there. I’m starting to get scared.
I’m in an unknown place and don’t know how to get back to Jane’s.
When I freak out, my mind starts racing. I imagine every possible
horrible scenario. What if someone is out there? It would be easy
for someone to kidnap or kill me. No one would know what happened
to me. What if there are cannibals in the forest? I can’t image
that I would taste very good. I’d be a breaking news story for a
day and when there was no evidence found in the case, I’d be
forgotten. With no family to alert or friends to mourn me, my file
would be placed in another unclosed case box and placed in the back
of a storage room to collect dust.

Suddenly, the wind begins to pick up and the
leaves on the trees begin to fly everywhere, swirling in a vortex
around me.

“Stop that!” yells the person from the
tree.

“Stop what?” I call back. “I’m not doing
anything.”

He jumps down, and says, “Calm down. Your
emotions are affecting the weather.”

I scoff. This guy is crazy. Putting my hands
on my hips, I push my chin out and defiantly I retort, “How the
heck are my emotions affecting the weather? That’s not possib…” I
trail off. The rest of the sentence is completely forgotten when I
see the man standing in front of me.

He looks slightly older than me. It is hard
to tell. He has long black hair that moves with the wind and light
gray eyes the color of steel. The most interesting combination I’ve
ever seen on anyone. A long jagged silver scar runs across the
length of his left brow. His nose is crooked as though it has been
broken a few times before. His full pink lips are set in a straight
line as his hard gaze focuses on me. He is wearing a tight black
t-shirt, emphasizing the muscles in his chest and arms, and has a
dark leather belt strapped around his waistband. Around the width
of his right upper arm is an extravagant flamed tattoo that
disappears beneath the fabric of his shirt. Filled in with black
ink, it reminds me of the tribal tattoos I’ve only ever seen on the
internet or on those teen novels with the shirtless men on the
cover. A large matching silver flame shaped pendent hangs around
his neck.

He is very good-looking in that bad-boy
way—the kind of boy that your parents would hate if you ever
brought him home.

At the sound of him clearing his throat, I
break out of my trance like state. Still staring at him, my cheeks
turn a deep shade of red. What is wrong with me? This is the second
time in two days that I’ve been caught openly ogling an attractive
guy.

Let me try this again. “What do you mean my
emotions are affecting the weather?”

“You were confused and scared. It picked up
on that. Watch what you think and feel. Everything is affected by
what
you
do,” he says as he begins to turn and walk
away.

“What I do? Why?” When he doesn’t stop
walking, I begin to follow him, “Where are you going? What is this
place?” Still I get no reply. I stop and look around. I realize
that without him I am alone in this unknown place. So, I do the
only rational thing. I follow him into the dark and eerie
forest.

I have to jog to keep up with his long quick
strides. After following in silence for a couple of minutes, I
speak again. “Hey, wait. Stop! Where am I? What is this place?”

Silence.

I pick up my speed and run in front of him.
When I stop, he collides into me. I would have fallen flat on my
butt if he hadn’t reached out and steadied me. He lets go of me
quickly and stares straight at me, silently demanding me to
move.