Post by thunderpunch on Aug 9, 2012 22:50:43 GMT -5
I am working on a new story (it's like the 5th story I've started and yet to finish) But I have high hopes for this one. It is about a boy (currently named Dylan but I may change the name later as I develope the plot more) who is a seemingly normal human. However he isn't as normal as everyone thinks. As he grows older, he begins to notice things about himself and his surroundings that he hadn't ever noticed before. He has gifts (more to be revieled later) like exeremely good hearing and a knack for machanics and engines. Things are about to change for Dylan and everything he thought to be true begins to dissappear and seem like lies.
With that being said, here is what I have typed up so far. I haven't had much time lately to work on it but I will continue to type when I get the time. Please don't steal and please give me some feedback. What do you think could be improved, point out typoes I might have missed, etc.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Dylan, Dylan... Did you really think you could hide from me forever? Silly little boy, you should’ve known that I’d find you.” His gravelly voice cut through the darkness. I looked up and what at first appeared to be nothing more than shadows had materialized and formed the figure of a tall thin man. However, something about him told me he was no normal human being. He stood about six feet tall, looked to be about 150 pounds and even in the darkness I could tell he was extremely well-muscled. There was a thin white scar under his left eye that looked like it came from a blade. He was wearing black boots that end just before reaching his knees, a dark leather jacket and, in his right hand, he held a gun that was unlike any gun I’d ever seen before. I was on my hands and knees, unable to stand for some reason that, like everything else here, hid itself in the shadows just beyond my field of vision. I gazed up at him and my eyes narrowed as my muscles instinctively grew rigid. I tried to speak, to tell him I haven’t got a clue what he means, but nothing escaped my lips—not even a whisper. I tried once more to call out but again nothing. A menacing grin formed on the man’s face and he aimed the barrel of the gun directly at my head. Time seemed to slow and although I saw his finger closing around and then pulling the trigger, I was glued to the spot by some invisible force. I set my jaw and prepared myself for the end. A bright flash of orange accompanied by and earsplitting bang erupted from the barrel and a fire-like beam flew through the air directly toward my skull. However a moment before the beam connected with my head, I was torn away and was suddenly whirling through a darkness that gave way to a bright light.
I opened my eyes and the first thing I noticed was that I was looking at the ceiling of my room. The next thing I became aware of was that I was panting slightly and a thin layer of sweat covered my face.
“It was just a dream” I said to myself, more in reassurance than anything. I glanced over at the alarm clock next to my bed that read eight o’clock am. My head swiveled, scanning the room for anything out of place but everything is exactly the way I’ve left it: a stack of books on the floor under the window, my laptop closed on my desk, my worn out pale blue sweatshirt tossed carelessly over the back of a chair and a small sheathed dagger on the shelf over the desk. I felt like something is wrong but I couldn’t put my finger on it so I ran through the facts: my name is Dylan Smith; I am seventeen years old and live in Bristol, Colorado. My parents are George and Jeena and I am the younger of two boys. James is my older brother, nineteen and currently enrolled at the University of Colorado. ‘It was only a dream.’ I thought to myself again. Lately I’d been having the same dream over and over again, a tall man not of this world pointing a gun at my head. I didn’t have a clue why it kept happening but it came almost every night then and no matter how many times I watched the scene play out in my mind it never got any better, only worse; more frightening.
I shook the thoughts of the dream out of my mind and swung my legs off the bed. I stood and moved, slowly at first, to the dresser and grabbed a pair of worn out blue jeans and a grey t-shirt and headed to the bathroom just down the hall from my room. I changed out of the sleeveless top and sweatpants I normally wore to bed and into the jeans and shirt then brushed my teeth and ran a comb through my shaggy caramel colored hair even though I knew it was useless. My hair seemed as if it had grown to be permanently messy and untamable. I shook my head slightly and decided to quit attempting to fix it because I knew it was a lost cause and walked back to my room. One more look around the room but again, nothing had changed at all. I didn’t know why but I just couldn’t shake the feeling that something bad was going to happen today. I grabbed my navy blue Jan sport backpack and tossed the blue sweatshirt in along with my camera into it. I picked up a silver dog tag on a thin chain and slipped it over my head. After shouldering the backpack I turned to leave the room but something made me hesitate for a moment and glance back over my shoulder at the dagger on the shelf. I watched it for a moment, the blood red gem set into its hilt seeming to glow in a way I’d never noticed before. Another moment passed before I crossed over to the shelf in 3 steps and picked it up. It felt almost warm in my palm and I stared at it before strapping it onto my belt and leaving my room.
As I descended the stairs my footsteps echoed within the otherwise silent house. As I reached the last step my vision swept the room. Nothing out of place. No one here. I listened intently but heard nothing. I don’t know if it was simply genetics or just that I’m lucky but I have an extremely keen sense of hearing. I stepped quietly around the corner still listening, my eyes continually making sweeps across the area. Again, no one in the room; no sounds except for the faint hum of the refrigerator running in the corner of the kitchen. However I saw that there was a note sitting on the counter. As I walked toward it I saw that it was from my dad.
Dylan, Had something come up at work and had to go in early. Not sure when I’ll be home so could you drop the envelopes on the table off at the post office this morning. Thanks, Dad
I glanced over at the table and saw three envelopes there. Most likely bills. Mom was out of town for the week on a business trip and dad worked at the hospital so I often found myself home alone at night or during the day because they had work to take care of. Sighing, I grabbed the envelopes off the table and headed for the door grabbing a granola bar as I went past the counter. I stopped by the door long enough to lace up my pair of black combat boots and toss a worn jean jacket over my sweatshirt.
I stood on the steps leading off the porch for just a moment listening intently and running my eyes over the landscape. The only sounds I heard were those I heard almost every morning around here: birds singing, the dog next door barking at a cat in the window across the street, the leaves rustling in the slight breeze and the very distant sound of cars in town. Everything was calm and nothing seemed out of place. ‘Dylan…’ a nearly silent whisper entered my mind just as I moved to step down off the porch. I instinctively froze, my eyes sweeping the yard for the source but it was impossible to tell whether I had actually heard a whisper or whether my overactive mind had created it. Whatever it was it still made my breath catch in my chest and my muscles tense up. I listened for another few seconds but heard nothing. I shook my head and continued down the steps and moved around the corner of the house to the metal shed where my motorcycle was kept. I had always loved motorcycles: how sleek they looked, the sound of the engine, the freeness that came with riding one. Mine was jet black with lime green detailing. When I had bought it, it was basically a junker. Its last owner had been in an accident with it and couldn’t afford to get it up and running again so I bought it and completely remade it. It was my pride and joy. I inserted the key and started it up as I swung my leg over the seat. I slid my helmet onto my head and pulled on the black gloves I almost always wear when I ride. Backing out the bike out of the shed I heard a faint whisper but I couldn’t tell what it said. I took a few breaths and tore out of the driveway and headed toward town. Silently I planned out where I was going today: first the post office, then the library, then I was to meet with my friends Caleb and Sam before going to the movies.
I know everybody has that one thing in the world that lets them escape reality, at least for a little while. For me, that is simply riding the back country roads on my motorcycle. When the wind whips around me and everything blurs as it surrounds me, there’s just nothing in the world that compares to it. I was enjoying the rush when I saw something ahead of me. At first I thought I was just seeing something, a trick of the light or something, but when I blinked and looked again it was still there standing in the middle of the road. I had about thirty seconds to figure out what it was. It looked similar to a man in shape but something about it seemed un-human. As I approached it the whisper that I had heard back at home entered my mind again only this time it said more. ‘Dylan….you can’t run.’ My eyes widened when I heard the second part of the whisper and at that same moment the thing was upon me. In a panic and not wanting to hit the thing I jerked the handlebars in an effort to avoid it; however even though I missed the thing I lost control of the motorcycle when the wheels hit the loose gravel on the edge of the road. The entire bike began to wobble and tipped forward as the front tire turned ninety degrees. Time had seemed to slow down and as I fought to stay with the bike I was thrown over the handlebars. One second I was weightless, flying through the air, and the next second I landed heavily on the hard ground. My left shoulder hit the ground first followed by my hip and head. Instantly a flash of white hot pain burst through my shoulder and traveled through my body. The pain was so intense that I didn’t even have the chance to cry out before my mind faded into darkness. I don’t know how long I was unconscious but nearly the entire time I heard the same whisper repeated over and over. Gradually the numbness of my body began to fade and I became aware of a number of things: that nearly my entire left side was aching, that I was still lying on the ground and that the whispering had silenced itself.
I opened my eyes slowly, allowing them the chance to adjust to the suddenly very bright light. I opened my eyes and found myself staring at the long grass along the edge of the road. For a moment I had no idea where I was or what had happened; but after a few seconds everything came back to me. I tried to push myself up on my elbow, gritting my teeth against the pain still shooting through my shoulder. I managed to get myself into a sitting position and took off my helmet. ‘Thank you helmet’ I thought when I saw how far I had gone. I was sitting almost five feet away from where my motorcycle was tipped on its side. Although my hip hurt slightly and my shoulder felt like it was on fire, nothing seemed too injured. My jacket had mostly protected my torso while, even though my jeans had ripped where I had landed, the worst I expected there was some major bruising and a few minor cuts. I gingerly ran my fingers over my shoulder wondering if it was dislocated or just very sore from the impact. At first I felt nothing but winced when my fingers brushed over a certain spot. I couldn’t tell how bad the damage was so I figured I’d have to work a stop at the doctor’s office into my day. Sighing, I stiffly stood and walked with a slight limp over to my motorcycle. I pulled it back upright and surveyed the damage. It seemed to have faired off a little better than me because the only visible damage was a few scratches in the paint but that could be fixed easily. I started it up and smiled when the engine purred as smooth as ever. I swung my leg over the seat and took one last look around the area for whatever that thing was but didn’t see anything, not even a print in the dirt to indicate that it had ever been there, which got me thinking.
What if the thing was never there in the first place? What if I had been imagining the thing the whole time? But then a second thought entered my mind; even if I was imagining it, why did I keep hearing the whispering? Maybe I was just losing my mind. Whatever it was I decided to figure it out later because right then my shoulder was killing me and the sooner I got to town the better so I pulled on my helmet, revved up the bike and was off once again.
Fifteen minutes later I arrived outside the local doctor’s office, a small old building that was in need of a new coat of paint. From the outside it looked kind of crappy but the inside was kept clean and orderly. I parked the bike and moved to the front door, still limping slightly. I was greeted by a small breeze of cool air that smelled slightly of antiseptic. I placed my helmet on a small shelf over the coat rack and walked to the front desk where Angie was working in front of a computer screen. She was thin with light blond hair and ice blue eyes. She looked up at me and smiled. She was a friend of my mom so we had known each other for a few years.
“Hey Dylan.” She said then her smile was replaced by a slight look of concern. “What happened to you?”
I grinned in recognition of her greeting then decided on an explanation. “I was on my way to town and a deer or something jumped out in front of me. I didn’t want to hit it so I swerved and lost it on the gravel. I wouldn’t bother coming in but I landed on my shoulder pretty hard and I thought I should probably have it checked out.” It wasn’t really a lie, I just decided to keep the whole mysterious shadow deal to myself for the time being.
“Well that doesn’t sound good. I’ll let Andrew know you’re here and he’ll be with you in just a few minute.” Andrew was the doctor in town and even though he wouldn’t admit it, he was one of the best in the area.
“Alright, thanks.” I turned and took a seat in the waiting area. While I waited I listened to the faint tick tock of the clock on the far wall and the humming of the computer behind the desk. Two minutes later the door to the left of the front desk opened and Andrew peered out, his green eyes instinctively moving to the waiting area. When he spotted me he grinned slightly and walked toward me.
“Dylan.” He said formally as he arrived in front of me. “Gotten yourself into a bit of trouble have you?” a joking tone threading itself into his voice. “Anyway, you can follow me to the back and we’ll get you checked out.”
“After you” I said standing, feeling like someone had just run over my left side with a train. I followed him through the door, down a short hallway and into an exam room. While Andrew turned on the lights and washed his hands, I shrugged off my jacket although not without some difficulty from my shoulder. I sat on the exam table just as Andrew walked over to me.
“Alright, let’s see what we’re dealing with here.” He said as he started to examine my shoulder. “How did you say this happened?”
I watched his hands move over my shoulder and listened as the slight rustle of his lab coat was the only noise other than the sound of our breathing. “I was on my motorcycle and lost control when I tried to avoid hitting a deer and flipped over the handlebars” I said gritting my teeth slightly as he moved my shoulder slightly.
“Well, on the bright side, nothing appears to be broken; however from what I can tell, the muscle is slightly torn. I’m afraid there’s not much I can do for it. I can give you some painkillers but you’ll just have to take it easy for a few days until it heals.” He told me walking over to the counter and waking off his gloves. He picked up a pen and wrote out what I expected to be the prescription for the painkillers. He handed me the paper and said “Here, take this to Angie. She’ll get you what you need. Take one in the morning and one in the evening. You can take the first one when you get them.”
“Thanks. Will do.” I said taking the paper from him and grabbing my jacket. I walked out of the room and turned back down the hallway, following the sound of the cars outside and the tick of the keyboard as Angie typed. About halfway down the hall the whisper entered my mind again. ‘You can’t run Dylan….You can try…but…you can’t get away.’ It said coming from a place I couldn’t locate. It wasn’t in my head and it seemed to bombard me from every angle. I stopped moving, unsure why. It was as if the same invisible voice had bound me to the spot. I swayed slightly feeling for a moment as if I was going to feint but it ended just as quickly as it began and the entire thing couldn’t have lasted more than a few seconds. I took a shallow shaky breath and looked down at my hands, opening and closing them a few times. I closed my eyes and composed myself before continuing down the hall toward the front of the office. Angie was waiting and I silently handed her the note. She studied it for only a moment before stepping into a back room and emerging with a small white bottle.
“Andrew told you when to take them?” she asked glancing at the instructions before handing it over to me.
“Yup, take one in the morning and one at night. Thanks.” I said taking one pill out and swallowing it before placing the bottle into the pocket on the inside of my jacket. I turned and walked over to where I had left my helmet.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
With that being said, here is what I have typed up so far. I haven't had much time lately to work on it but I will continue to type when I get the time. Please don't steal and please give me some feedback. What do you think could be improved, point out typoes I might have missed, etc.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Dylan, Dylan... Did you really think you could hide from me forever? Silly little boy, you should’ve known that I’d find you.” His gravelly voice cut through the darkness. I looked up and what at first appeared to be nothing more than shadows had materialized and formed the figure of a tall thin man. However, something about him told me he was no normal human being. He stood about six feet tall, looked to be about 150 pounds and even in the darkness I could tell he was extremely well-muscled. There was a thin white scar under his left eye that looked like it came from a blade. He was wearing black boots that end just before reaching his knees, a dark leather jacket and, in his right hand, he held a gun that was unlike any gun I’d ever seen before. I was on my hands and knees, unable to stand for some reason that, like everything else here, hid itself in the shadows just beyond my field of vision. I gazed up at him and my eyes narrowed as my muscles instinctively grew rigid. I tried to speak, to tell him I haven’t got a clue what he means, but nothing escaped my lips—not even a whisper. I tried once more to call out but again nothing. A menacing grin formed on the man’s face and he aimed the barrel of the gun directly at my head. Time seemed to slow and although I saw his finger closing around and then pulling the trigger, I was glued to the spot by some invisible force. I set my jaw and prepared myself for the end. A bright flash of orange accompanied by and earsplitting bang erupted from the barrel and a fire-like beam flew through the air directly toward my skull. However a moment before the beam connected with my head, I was torn away and was suddenly whirling through a darkness that gave way to a bright light.
I opened my eyes and the first thing I noticed was that I was looking at the ceiling of my room. The next thing I became aware of was that I was panting slightly and a thin layer of sweat covered my face.
“It was just a dream” I said to myself, more in reassurance than anything. I glanced over at the alarm clock next to my bed that read eight o’clock am. My head swiveled, scanning the room for anything out of place but everything is exactly the way I’ve left it: a stack of books on the floor under the window, my laptop closed on my desk, my worn out pale blue sweatshirt tossed carelessly over the back of a chair and a small sheathed dagger on the shelf over the desk. I felt like something is wrong but I couldn’t put my finger on it so I ran through the facts: my name is Dylan Smith; I am seventeen years old and live in Bristol, Colorado. My parents are George and Jeena and I am the younger of two boys. James is my older brother, nineteen and currently enrolled at the University of Colorado. ‘It was only a dream.’ I thought to myself again. Lately I’d been having the same dream over and over again, a tall man not of this world pointing a gun at my head. I didn’t have a clue why it kept happening but it came almost every night then and no matter how many times I watched the scene play out in my mind it never got any better, only worse; more frightening.
I shook the thoughts of the dream out of my mind and swung my legs off the bed. I stood and moved, slowly at first, to the dresser and grabbed a pair of worn out blue jeans and a grey t-shirt and headed to the bathroom just down the hall from my room. I changed out of the sleeveless top and sweatpants I normally wore to bed and into the jeans and shirt then brushed my teeth and ran a comb through my shaggy caramel colored hair even though I knew it was useless. My hair seemed as if it had grown to be permanently messy and untamable. I shook my head slightly and decided to quit attempting to fix it because I knew it was a lost cause and walked back to my room. One more look around the room but again, nothing had changed at all. I didn’t know why but I just couldn’t shake the feeling that something bad was going to happen today. I grabbed my navy blue Jan sport backpack and tossed the blue sweatshirt in along with my camera into it. I picked up a silver dog tag on a thin chain and slipped it over my head. After shouldering the backpack I turned to leave the room but something made me hesitate for a moment and glance back over my shoulder at the dagger on the shelf. I watched it for a moment, the blood red gem set into its hilt seeming to glow in a way I’d never noticed before. Another moment passed before I crossed over to the shelf in 3 steps and picked it up. It felt almost warm in my palm and I stared at it before strapping it onto my belt and leaving my room.
As I descended the stairs my footsteps echoed within the otherwise silent house. As I reached the last step my vision swept the room. Nothing out of place. No one here. I listened intently but heard nothing. I don’t know if it was simply genetics or just that I’m lucky but I have an extremely keen sense of hearing. I stepped quietly around the corner still listening, my eyes continually making sweeps across the area. Again, no one in the room; no sounds except for the faint hum of the refrigerator running in the corner of the kitchen. However I saw that there was a note sitting on the counter. As I walked toward it I saw that it was from my dad.
Dylan, Had something come up at work and had to go in early. Not sure when I’ll be home so could you drop the envelopes on the table off at the post office this morning. Thanks, Dad
I glanced over at the table and saw three envelopes there. Most likely bills. Mom was out of town for the week on a business trip and dad worked at the hospital so I often found myself home alone at night or during the day because they had work to take care of. Sighing, I grabbed the envelopes off the table and headed for the door grabbing a granola bar as I went past the counter. I stopped by the door long enough to lace up my pair of black combat boots and toss a worn jean jacket over my sweatshirt.
I stood on the steps leading off the porch for just a moment listening intently and running my eyes over the landscape. The only sounds I heard were those I heard almost every morning around here: birds singing, the dog next door barking at a cat in the window across the street, the leaves rustling in the slight breeze and the very distant sound of cars in town. Everything was calm and nothing seemed out of place. ‘Dylan…’ a nearly silent whisper entered my mind just as I moved to step down off the porch. I instinctively froze, my eyes sweeping the yard for the source but it was impossible to tell whether I had actually heard a whisper or whether my overactive mind had created it. Whatever it was it still made my breath catch in my chest and my muscles tense up. I listened for another few seconds but heard nothing. I shook my head and continued down the steps and moved around the corner of the house to the metal shed where my motorcycle was kept. I had always loved motorcycles: how sleek they looked, the sound of the engine, the freeness that came with riding one. Mine was jet black with lime green detailing. When I had bought it, it was basically a junker. Its last owner had been in an accident with it and couldn’t afford to get it up and running again so I bought it and completely remade it. It was my pride and joy. I inserted the key and started it up as I swung my leg over the seat. I slid my helmet onto my head and pulled on the black gloves I almost always wear when I ride. Backing out the bike out of the shed I heard a faint whisper but I couldn’t tell what it said. I took a few breaths and tore out of the driveway and headed toward town. Silently I planned out where I was going today: first the post office, then the library, then I was to meet with my friends Caleb and Sam before going to the movies.
I know everybody has that one thing in the world that lets them escape reality, at least for a little while. For me, that is simply riding the back country roads on my motorcycle. When the wind whips around me and everything blurs as it surrounds me, there’s just nothing in the world that compares to it. I was enjoying the rush when I saw something ahead of me. At first I thought I was just seeing something, a trick of the light or something, but when I blinked and looked again it was still there standing in the middle of the road. I had about thirty seconds to figure out what it was. It looked similar to a man in shape but something about it seemed un-human. As I approached it the whisper that I had heard back at home entered my mind again only this time it said more. ‘Dylan….you can’t run.’ My eyes widened when I heard the second part of the whisper and at that same moment the thing was upon me. In a panic and not wanting to hit the thing I jerked the handlebars in an effort to avoid it; however even though I missed the thing I lost control of the motorcycle when the wheels hit the loose gravel on the edge of the road. The entire bike began to wobble and tipped forward as the front tire turned ninety degrees. Time had seemed to slow down and as I fought to stay with the bike I was thrown over the handlebars. One second I was weightless, flying through the air, and the next second I landed heavily on the hard ground. My left shoulder hit the ground first followed by my hip and head. Instantly a flash of white hot pain burst through my shoulder and traveled through my body. The pain was so intense that I didn’t even have the chance to cry out before my mind faded into darkness. I don’t know how long I was unconscious but nearly the entire time I heard the same whisper repeated over and over. Gradually the numbness of my body began to fade and I became aware of a number of things: that nearly my entire left side was aching, that I was still lying on the ground and that the whispering had silenced itself.
I opened my eyes slowly, allowing them the chance to adjust to the suddenly very bright light. I opened my eyes and found myself staring at the long grass along the edge of the road. For a moment I had no idea where I was or what had happened; but after a few seconds everything came back to me. I tried to push myself up on my elbow, gritting my teeth against the pain still shooting through my shoulder. I managed to get myself into a sitting position and took off my helmet. ‘Thank you helmet’ I thought when I saw how far I had gone. I was sitting almost five feet away from where my motorcycle was tipped on its side. Although my hip hurt slightly and my shoulder felt like it was on fire, nothing seemed too injured. My jacket had mostly protected my torso while, even though my jeans had ripped where I had landed, the worst I expected there was some major bruising and a few minor cuts. I gingerly ran my fingers over my shoulder wondering if it was dislocated or just very sore from the impact. At first I felt nothing but winced when my fingers brushed over a certain spot. I couldn’t tell how bad the damage was so I figured I’d have to work a stop at the doctor’s office into my day. Sighing, I stiffly stood and walked with a slight limp over to my motorcycle. I pulled it back upright and surveyed the damage. It seemed to have faired off a little better than me because the only visible damage was a few scratches in the paint but that could be fixed easily. I started it up and smiled when the engine purred as smooth as ever. I swung my leg over the seat and took one last look around the area for whatever that thing was but didn’t see anything, not even a print in the dirt to indicate that it had ever been there, which got me thinking.
What if the thing was never there in the first place? What if I had been imagining the thing the whole time? But then a second thought entered my mind; even if I was imagining it, why did I keep hearing the whispering? Maybe I was just losing my mind. Whatever it was I decided to figure it out later because right then my shoulder was killing me and the sooner I got to town the better so I pulled on my helmet, revved up the bike and was off once again.
Fifteen minutes later I arrived outside the local doctor’s office, a small old building that was in need of a new coat of paint. From the outside it looked kind of crappy but the inside was kept clean and orderly. I parked the bike and moved to the front door, still limping slightly. I was greeted by a small breeze of cool air that smelled slightly of antiseptic. I placed my helmet on a small shelf over the coat rack and walked to the front desk where Angie was working in front of a computer screen. She was thin with light blond hair and ice blue eyes. She looked up at me and smiled. She was a friend of my mom so we had known each other for a few years.
“Hey Dylan.” She said then her smile was replaced by a slight look of concern. “What happened to you?”
I grinned in recognition of her greeting then decided on an explanation. “I was on my way to town and a deer or something jumped out in front of me. I didn’t want to hit it so I swerved and lost it on the gravel. I wouldn’t bother coming in but I landed on my shoulder pretty hard and I thought I should probably have it checked out.” It wasn’t really a lie, I just decided to keep the whole mysterious shadow deal to myself for the time being.
“Well that doesn’t sound good. I’ll let Andrew know you’re here and he’ll be with you in just a few minute.” Andrew was the doctor in town and even though he wouldn’t admit it, he was one of the best in the area.
“Alright, thanks.” I turned and took a seat in the waiting area. While I waited I listened to the faint tick tock of the clock on the far wall and the humming of the computer behind the desk. Two minutes later the door to the left of the front desk opened and Andrew peered out, his green eyes instinctively moving to the waiting area. When he spotted me he grinned slightly and walked toward me.
“Dylan.” He said formally as he arrived in front of me. “Gotten yourself into a bit of trouble have you?” a joking tone threading itself into his voice. “Anyway, you can follow me to the back and we’ll get you checked out.”
“After you” I said standing, feeling like someone had just run over my left side with a train. I followed him through the door, down a short hallway and into an exam room. While Andrew turned on the lights and washed his hands, I shrugged off my jacket although not without some difficulty from my shoulder. I sat on the exam table just as Andrew walked over to me.
“Alright, let’s see what we’re dealing with here.” He said as he started to examine my shoulder. “How did you say this happened?”
I watched his hands move over my shoulder and listened as the slight rustle of his lab coat was the only noise other than the sound of our breathing. “I was on my motorcycle and lost control when I tried to avoid hitting a deer and flipped over the handlebars” I said gritting my teeth slightly as he moved my shoulder slightly.
“Well, on the bright side, nothing appears to be broken; however from what I can tell, the muscle is slightly torn. I’m afraid there’s not much I can do for it. I can give you some painkillers but you’ll just have to take it easy for a few days until it heals.” He told me walking over to the counter and waking off his gloves. He picked up a pen and wrote out what I expected to be the prescription for the painkillers. He handed me the paper and said “Here, take this to Angie. She’ll get you what you need. Take one in the morning and one in the evening. You can take the first one when you get them.”
“Thanks. Will do.” I said taking the paper from him and grabbing my jacket. I walked out of the room and turned back down the hallway, following the sound of the cars outside and the tick of the keyboard as Angie typed. About halfway down the hall the whisper entered my mind again. ‘You can’t run Dylan….You can try…but…you can’t get away.’ It said coming from a place I couldn’t locate. It wasn’t in my head and it seemed to bombard me from every angle. I stopped moving, unsure why. It was as if the same invisible voice had bound me to the spot. I swayed slightly feeling for a moment as if I was going to feint but it ended just as quickly as it began and the entire thing couldn’t have lasted more than a few seconds. I took a shallow shaky breath and looked down at my hands, opening and closing them a few times. I closed my eyes and composed myself before continuing down the hall toward the front of the office. Angie was waiting and I silently handed her the note. She studied it for only a moment before stepping into a back room and emerging with a small white bottle.
“Andrew told you when to take them?” she asked glancing at the instructions before handing it over to me.
“Yup, take one in the morning and one at night. Thanks.” I said taking one pill out and swallowing it before placing the bottle into the pocket on the inside of my jacket. I turned and walked over to where I had left my helmet.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~