| I walked on, ignoring all the yammering inconsistencies of all these mice. A few call my name, and nod in my general direction, but no one laughs anymore. They know better now. Striding steadily, and proudly, a harsh sound smashes into my thoughts. I turn to face one of my few "friends", Ray. Sadly enough, the man honestly believes himself to be a vampire. Now I know, he is something far worse. "Davey!" Ray croons, tauntingly. I slap him, and after picking himself up, still grinning. He asks if I know what day it is. "Friday, retard." "You know what that means, right?" Still, he grins, showing off his surgically implanted fangs. "Um, that it's Friday?" His good mood and idiotic grin are infectious, and I flash a rare smile to him. A group of girls nearby immediately begin whispering; remembering the last few times I've smiled at anyone. "No, dude. It means that Seya is having a party, which you must attend." "Oooh, you can use the imperative! I'm all impressed...and stuff." "Because of you, smartass. If I keep hanging around you, I may be able to count to ten without taking off my shoes." "I don't know if my mom would want me going anywhere, and I don't want to promise I'll be there if I can't." "What are you, a knight of the round table? Hello, Arthur is dead, chivalry has been beaten to bloody death by treachery and greed." I spoke defensively through my teeth, "She might need me at the house. Sometimes she needs me." "Alright, sorry dude. Anyways, please come? Seya really wants you there, and I think she might offer to initiate you tonight. Since, you know, I can't." I sigh. "Ray, you are my best friend, but sometimes you are a complete idiot. I don't want to be initiated. I don't want to be a part of your gang, or whatever the hell it is." "Clan, Davey." I detested the nickname Davey. Yet, I tolerated it from him because he knew me - as well as anyone could. "Fine, no initiation, but would you please come? I don't want to deal with Balx and C'an by myself." "Who the hell names their kid Balx?" I scoffed. Balx was an even bigger loon than Ray, Seya, and myself put together. Worse than that, he was emotionally weak, unintelligent and annoying. "His parents, obviously. Unless that's just what he calls himself. I can't stand C'an, his little toady. Why the hell can't he just spell his name normally?" The name was pronounced Shawn, but the little bugger just had to be different. Too many fantasy RPG's, I suppose. "C'mon David, please?" Uh-oh. He stopped grinning. He used my proper name. He started doing this weird, disturbing imitation of puppy dog eyes. He looked at me like I'd just broken up with him. "I might be there," I conceded, if only to get him to stop making that face at me. "Don't piss anyone off today," I sighed, changing the subject. "I don't feel like getting into any fights for your stupidity right now." Ray laughed almost disbelievingly. "Dude, people barely look at me since you put that kid's head through a locker door." I winced regretfully. "I still feel bad about that, he really didn't deserve that. I was just kinda having a bad day and I snapped." In a genuine act of concern for the kid, I'd gone to visit him at the hospital. Once I had managed to get past his mother, he and I became decent friends. "You and your damn conscience. I've told you before, you need to get rid of that damn thing." Ray stalked off in disgust. School was over, for the week. I had survived, relatively unscathed, my "sanity" intact. I had a brief two days in which to ponder the meanings and applications of my lonely existence. Lonely, yes, it was. I alienated myself from other people, and not just because I felt intellectually superior to them. And I was smarter than most people, far above average, and arrogant about it as well. Yet I realized that there were many minds far superior to mine. But I was still lonely, because...I do not honestly remember why I separated myself from the dregs and dolorous of humanity at it's best. The only thing I can remember about it is that it was a bad idea. I tortured myself, staying far away from everything that could have saved me, which could have saved us, our race. And I miss it, more than anything in this now truly lonely world. |
| chapter one |
| When everything was normal, I managed to find something wrong with everything. As a teenager I longed for the simplicity of kindergarten. As a child I had wished to be treated like an adult. As an adult, I long for death. I remember the evenings when I was in typical goth mode, pretending that I knew what pain was, hoping for immortality or death in the charade of typical teenage confusion. I would sit on my bed with a tape recorder, musing on my dreams and all their hidden meanings, enjoying the tortuously ambiguous analyses with all my black little heart. Now, I think I just wanted to hear myself speak, and I recorded it so that when and if I snapped I would have evidence to support my insanity. But then, it was important. These dreams were pivotal, and the possible interpretations were more crucial than anything I had ever known... I sat on my bed, talking into a tape recorder. "I think I know what it means. I've tried to be a good person, and I would like to think I've succeeded. But these dreams... I keep destroying something that's perfect, something that I love more than I thought I ever could. It makes no sense. I want to protect this perfection, to keep it safe from harm and corruption, and the only way I can think to preserve it is to destroy it." I paused for dramatic emphasis, reveling in the paradox that I had probably just stolen from a book I read. I also paused to formulate a hypothesis, lest I misspeak and prove myself idiotic and incorrect unintentionally. I was usually silent until I was completely sure of what I wished to say. "I think it means that there is no way I will be able to have everything that I want. What I am able to attain, what I manage to wrest away from the gaping maws of humanity will come at a price. Everything has a price. A lot of people are going to die because of me, and a lot of people might live a little longer because of me. In a few millenia though, I wonder who will remember my name... If things continue as they have been, I wonder if there will be anyone at all left to remember..." I spoke slowly, letting my mind deftly reason whether I had a purpose or if I was just a mistake, like half of the population. Welcome mistakes they may have been, but I have seen ample evidence to prove that I am not at all welcome in this world. "I know that no matter what I do, I will have a lot of difficult decisions to make. But no matter what I choose, someone - maybe everyone - I love will die." With that cheerful note, I rubbed my eyes, laid back on my pillows and dropped the tape recorder on the floor. Eventually I drifted off, and I would have sworn and could still that it was to the sounds of crows lamenting in the distance. I woke the next morning - as usual - fatigued and angry - as usual - and began preparing for my trek through the Six Hells (Seven if you counted lunch). I left without saying a word to my "mother", arrived early to school, and headed to the library to find some archaic text to brood over. Since schools seem to be anti-depression (and therefore are seriously lacking in the classical literature section), I was forced to do my brooding over If You Give a Mouse a Cookie. I forget how the story ends, but it has always dissuaded me whenever I began to feel generous or sympathetic towards my insipid fellow man. Eventually, the bell rang. Satisfied with my brooding for the morning, I began to head to class, where I would exert all my energy to acting as if I weren't listening, and piss all the other students off when I recieved the highest grades in the class. Teachers called on me once in a rare while, in which case I gave them the shortest answer possible. Walking down the halls, people stared. Almost everyone stared. I don't remember much about school anymore, the End pretty much gave me the reason I had been looking for to quit school; but I remember them all looking at me. Not that I didn't ask for it. My eyes were naturally a very deep green, and I had been told often that I was quite handsome. I had dyed my hair this sea blue colour. Yes, it was my feeble attempt to call attention to myself so that I could paradoxically push everyone away in order to properly simmer in my own angst. Oh, how I simmered. My best friend had asked me once why I had dyed my hair, stating that black was an excellent colour on me, even better because it was natural. My reply was that sometimes, people must change. For a long time I would have no idea how right I was. I stood over six and a half feet tall, but I made sure that my posture never showed it. I tried to act submissive towards strangers and friends as another brilliant piece of my insanity plea. Despite my overally submissiveness, if some unfortunate idiot made the mistake of saying the wrong thing to me (and no, there aren't that many "wrong things" someone can say to me), I ensured that it never happened again. And yet, it wasn't the colour of my hair or the unique way I clothed myself that made people stare. Yes, I wore all black, and accessorized with chains and duct tape. I am ashamed to admit it, but I am making an effort at being factual. Despite even my horrid posture, I moved with a grace that denoted power. And leeches that will never possess power for themselves always like to watch as it goes by, seething and fuming with jealousy. But more and more often I found myself returning their stares coldly, daring them to speak to me, pondering which rock of sarcasm I could use to pound their skulls. It's interesting, I once thought to myself, what people can do to themselves and to each other when they think no one's looking. When you make it known that you see them, that you really hear what they're saying, their cries for help cease in embarassment. Of course, no one approached me. So I kept walking. |