Authors: Jenna Kay
“Angels aren't real,” I remarked in a bare whisper, pinching the bridge of my nose as a stale headache began inching its way into my brain.
Sam appeared undeterred.
“I'm real—and I'm an angel.”
I felt the fury building up inside of me, and my face burned with resentment.
“You think I'm stupid or somethin'?” I inquired through clenched teeth.
“What? No, I've never—“
I pushed him away from me, barely moving him an inch. “Did ya really think I was gonna believe you? Just because you have this unnatural beauty and power?” I pushed him again. “I know you're different but did ya really have to make up such an unbelievable story?”
“Clarity—“
“No, I'm done listenin' to the crap comin' out of your mouth.” I glared at him angrily. “Get out of my house. Now.”
To my surprise he laughed.
“You humans,” he said softly. “Even when the truth is staring you in the face you choose not to believe.”
“Get. Out.” My lips formed an ugly scowl.
His eyes held a defeated edge as he said, “Alright, I'll leave. But always remember.” he paused, grinning slightly, my heart skipping into my throat.
“I am where you are.” And then he was just...gone!
As I stared open-mouthed at the spot where Sam had just stood I felt the strength leave my legs, forcing me to slide to the floor. I pulled my knees to my chest, hugging them. My stomach churned, and a sour taste began rising in my throat. Had Sam been telling the truth? Was he really what he said he was?
I dropped my head to my knees, trembling with uncontrolled sobs. I wished I could go back to twenty minutes before and really, really listen to Sam, keeping my mind open. I wanted Sam to reappear and encircle me with his calming power and security.
Was he really an angel? Or was he making fun of me?
I was totally, irrevocably, completely confused—more than usual.
I'm such a friggin' screw-up!
A piece of paper hanging on the refrigerator door caught my eye. I got up and walked over, grabbing the paper from its magnetic holder. A laugh bubbled out of me as I read the paper—it was the letter from New York State.
I had been accepted.
Chapter Ten
I was lost.
Lost in a field thick with tall sunflowers, except these did not resemble the average sunflower. No, these sunflowers had stalks twenty feet high and blooms bigger and thicker than a bowling ball—they were ginormous! And right now I was lost in the bulk of them.
Lightening flashed and thunder rolled, shaking the ground beneath my feet. The sky was dark gray and the clouds seethed above me, a severe storm brewing in a fleeting manner. The harsh winds tossed the statuesque sunflowers back and forth, like ocean waves battling a fierce hurricane. A chill cut me deep in my bones, the urgency to run screaming between my ears.
So I ran...and ran...and ran. But the wind fought me every step I took, stealing away every ounce of energy I had left. My breath was coming in deep huffs and my heart was beating like a drummer had invaded my chest, pounding away in demented, inconsistent thumps.
An opening appeared in between the massive stalks and I began racing to it, finding a strength I did not know I had somewhere deep within myself. My palms were sizzling hot, but they were the least of my worries. My only objective was to get to that clearing and out
of this ridiculous maze. The wind continued to howl behind
me, and I felt
something trying to tug me back into the giant sea of flowers. But I forged on, determined, and with my last bit of energy I jumped through the breech, landing and rolling hard onto the ground.
Standing to my feet I conveyed my surroundings, staring in amazed wonder. I was in the middle of a circle, the immense sunflowers stationed around me like some sort of makeshift prison. At one end of the sunflower wall a mirror appeared, my reflection causing me to jump with surprise. Walking toward the mirror my eyes took in my reflection. I was wearing a white dress that reached the ground, fluttering in the wind. My hair flowed down my back in beautiful curls, swaying along with my dress.
Gazing into the mirror I could see the sunflowers being tossed violently by the stark wind, the dark clouds rolling in fast motions. I caught a glimpse of something peculiar lurking behind me, my breath catching in my throat. Something was moving towards me from every direction, pushing through the large flowers.
People.
People were making their way to me, more people than I could count. I watched in distress as the people pushed down and destroyed the sunflowers, obliterated them to make their own paths. Before I
knew what was happening I was being surrounded by people; the only problem was that I could not tell who any of them were. Their bodies from head-to-toe were blacked out, like shiny black paint had been poured on them, masking who they were. Their heads had no eyes, ears, mouths, or noses. They were mere silhouettes of human-shaped bodies and nothing more.
An acrid silence bit into the field, quieting down the hostile wind. All I could hear was the beating of my heart frantically trying to break out of my chest. Stillness settled over reality, over everything, and the temperature had dropped tremendously, my breath forming circles of smoke in the air. Dread clasped every part of my body and I felt a terror that was indescribable.
A bright light formed directly in front of me and Sam appeared, pulling me quickly into his strong arms. His embrace immediately warmed me but did nothing for the growing anxiety in my chest.
“Who are they, Sam?” I questioned innocently, my voice small and soft.
He gazed down at me, his eyes the brightest I had ever seen.
“They know what you are, Clarity. They've found you.” Anguish
laced the
edges
of his voice, his expression was disconsolate.
Confused I asked, “What am I? And who are they?”
Before he could answer the ground began to shake like an earthquake ravaging the land. A cacophony of voices, malicious and rich with fury, cried out all around us, growling in agony.
“SHE'S OURS, ANGEL!”
“THIS ONE'S ALREADY TAKEN!”
“SHE ALREADY BELONGS TO OUR FATHER!”
Cold fear ran through my blood and in an instant I felt completely frozen. Even with Sam's warmth I began to shiver, the cold so rampant it pierced every cell in my body, forcing me to the ground. I felt my consciousness slipping away, my eyes burning—then everything turned to black, though my ears still worked.
Somewhere through all the torture I heard Sam shouting, his voice strong and unwavering. I could feel the blacked-out silhouettes tremble with fear as he spoke.
“SHE WILL NEVER BE YOURS! NEVER!”
I woke up to a girl screaming, only to realize the girl was me. Like all the nightmares I had woken from before, I found that my sheets were soaked in a cold sweat. My window was open, the cool night air stinging my bare flesh. Shuddering, my mouth a big chatter, I jumped up and slammed my window shut, pulling my curtains closed. The palms of my hands were the only parts of my body that were warm. No glow emanated from them this time. I walked into my bathroom and turned my shower on to boiling. Lying down in the tub I hugged myself into a fetal position, taking in the glorious warmth of the shower water.
Why me?
I thought grudgingly.
Why was I being tortured? Why?
“Why me?” I asked aloud. “Why?”
* * * *
“Is Brenton meetin' ya after work?” Janey asked as she hastily wiped disinfectant off the fingerprinted windows.
It was a Saturday night at Baker's Supermarket, and the two of us were busy with our closing duties, eager to get out of the drab confinements of the store. Mr. Baker had left earlier, claiming that he had a “date” later that night. So with the boss out of the store and no customers to bug us, we had started closing up early.
Sweeping trash and dirt into a dustpan I replied, “Nah, not tonight. He's workin' overtime at the garage.”
“Bummer,” she lamented lightly, getting on the tips of her toes to reach the highest parts of the windows.
I shrugged. “Ain't no biggie.” I dumped the trash into the garbage can. “I really need to go home any—”
I was unable to finish my sentence because Janey's face turned a sick green and she ran to the trash can, throwing up. Instantly I put a hand to my mouth as a nasty vile taste burned up my throat and into my mouth. Whenever I saw someone puke I always thought I was going to join them—the worst thing in the world is to throw up! Like when Kora would get too drunk to stand and I would be the one to wash the puke out of her hair. Not for the squeamish.
“Uh, you OK?” Wow, what a stupid question. Of course she wasn't OK—she had just blown chunks!
A few dry heaves later she straightened up, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.
“Oh, gross,” she groaned. “I think I'm sick or somethin'. I've been feeling cruddy all week.” She placed her hands on her knees and leaned over, sucking in a couple of breaths.
“You probably have the flu that's been going around,” I opined, taking a mental note to wash the skin off my hands.
Her eyes, darkened with circles and filled with tears, gazed up at me deplorably. Her rosy complexion was replaced with a grim paleness.
“Probably,” she replied a couple eye blinks later.
“Listen, Janey, when you get yourself together, go home.” I gently patted her on the back. “There's not much left to do around here—I can finish up.”
“No,” she declared willfully, forcing herself to stand up straight. “I don't want to leave ya alone! Mr. Baker—oh, crap!” She flung herself over the garbage can and vomited again. After she was done (I hoped!) she slowly turned her head to the side and looked at me weakly.
“Ya know, Clare—I think you're right.”
“Yeah, I know I am. Now
go
.”
I watched as she got in her car and took off for home. Sighing, I busied myself with the ho-hum motions of closing the store, doing mine
and
Janey's work. My body ached and my head pounded from lack of sleep, the nightmares I had been having for weeks now taking their toll. Sleep was easy for me to get to—I usually passed out right when my head hit the pillow. The problem was the dreams. They felt so real, waking me up in the early morning hours, leaving me wide awake and drenched in sweat. I was getting used to only sleeping two hours a night. I just hoped I could continue to go about life with a sane mentality.
Sam had been a no-show for a couple of weeks now, and I was beginning to wonder if I had made him up. Of course then I would catch sight of my tattooed hands and know without a doubt he was real—and possibly out of this world.
It was nine fifteen before I was finished. Setting the alarm and locking the doors I sucked in a deep breath, filling my lungs with the early November air.
Finally I could go home and rest, maybe even enjoy a few shots of tequila to shove me off to sleep. Heck, if I could just knock myself out for a few dreamless hours I would be totally grateful.
Tiredly strolling to my car I noticed how exceptionally dark the night was. It was cloudy, windy, and smelled liked rain was on the way, possibly bringing storms in its path. On thinking that thought sprinkles started falling from the sky.
Only three of the six lampposts were operational around the supermarket, the dull orange glows barely lighting my footsteps across the parking lot. It was depressingly gloomy without the shine of the moon.
Halfway to my car I halted my steps, noting the change around me. Four apparent changes, to be exact, had occurred in the fifteen seconds I had stepped outside the store.
First, the temperature had dropped, like opening and walking into a deep freezer. With each breath I exhaled, little white cottony puffs flew in front of my face.
Second, the air had thickened, as if a giant vacuum cleaner had attacked the earth, sucking all the oxygen out of the atmosphere. Breathing was proving to be a challenge, my lungs working overtime with the air so heavy and dense.
Third, a creepy stillness had covered the region. No wind, no sprinkling rain, no nothing. Like God had hit the pause button on the earth, stopping its continuous spin.
Fourth—my hands, of course. My palms were tingling with heat, pulsating and glowing red.
The lampposts started to flicker on and off, snapping me from my reverie. I scanned the parking lot for anything out of the ordinary. While my eyes browsed the lot, the three functional lampposts flitted out, leaving me in total darkness. Well, except for my glowing hands. I turned toward my car and my blood froze in my veins and a bitter frost flew over my skin, glaciating my bones.
Four guys, maybe teenagers, had appeared around my car. Two sat on the hood, one leaned against the driver’s side door with his arms crossed and head facing down, and one was sprawled on top of the trunk with his long legs dangling off the bumper. They were all dressed in black, blending into the night. Even through the darkness I could see every detail on their faces, thanks to my flashlight hands. They all had pale faces and strong, flawless features, and my first impression of these guys were that they were totally hot—but that thought rapidly vanished when they raised their heads and met my eyes with theirs. My breath caught in my chest and my heart sped up to my throat. I rubbed my eyes to make sure that what I was seeing was accurate.