The Tale of Jacob Buschell

1. The Tale of Jacob Buschell

A/N: This is another short story for my creative writing class, so I don't put as much effort into it, but I'm sharing it with you lovely Wattpad people. 

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I wake up with a start, my breath catching at the end of my yell. It's a stormy night. I can hear the weather raging outside. Lightning lights up the sky. Thunder claps in the distance. The ocean angrily hits the docks outside of my house. Constantly I worry about a tsunami or hurricane tearing up the town I know as home.

Home. Seaway Docks. It is such a tiny and bland town, built almost entirely on harbors over the ocean. It's always wet here, but I loved it, despite the rotting buildings and foreboding weather.

“Jacob?” Sarah stands in the doorway, clad in a large gray t-shirt that covers her small shorts. Her long, dark hair is swept over her should as she cups her left elbow. It seems as if her intense blue eyes are searching the room for danger.

“What is it?” I ask, sitting up in my bed. I try to pretend she was the one to wake me up by rubbing my eyes sleepily, wanting to make her feel guilt, not concern, for me.

She isn't buying it. Tip-toeing into my room, she closes the door behind her. “You were yelling again. Are you still having those dreams?” The words themselves might convey care, but I can see the mocking glint in her eyes. She thinks I'm lying about the dream. I never should have told her about it.

“Shouldn't you be in bed?” I question, my tone harsh. Her very presence is testing my patience. As our mother describes us, we were cat and dog, constantly baring our teeth at each other. It didn't use to be so bad, but then Sarah's douche of a boyfriend cheated on her. Now, she thinks she deserves the same treatment as a queen.

“Okay, mom.” Sarah snaps, blue eyes flashing. “I'm sixteen, not five. I'm allowed to sleep whenever I want.”

“Just get out of my room.”

“Tell me what your dream was. Did it have Mary in it again-?”

I leap off of my bed, bristling with irritation. “I'm not telling you!” I growl, pushing her out of the room. “Now go!” I slam the door in her leave before running my hands through my blonde hair, messing it up more. Sighing, I move back to my bed. Truth was, Sarah was right. The same dream that I had once told her about had indeed been the thing to wake me up.

My pillow stares at me, as if questioning why I'm not sleeping. There's a simple answer to that; if I fall asleep again, the dream will come and haunt me. Again. Instead, I grab my phone off of my nightstand and head out of my room and down the stairs. I pull on a jacket and shoes as I make my way outside. The sidewalk is slick with the recent rain and the street lights- or rather the harbor lights- reflect in the pools of water.

Testing how my footwear will fare on the slippery surface, I debate whether I want to run or not. I answer my own inquiry by starting to jog. The dream comes to mind, with it's haunting images. Mary Carnegie is there, zombie-like and unresponsive to my worries.

Mary Carnegie. My girlfriend of three years. Her auburn is easily swept up in an imaginary wind that plays in my mind's eye. It's flying gracefully behind her as she runs towards me. Those pale green eyes of hers lock onto to mine as she smiles, laughing. Her voice has my mind thinking of tinkling bells, always bringing a smile to my face.

Smack. My hand goes immediately to my forehead, rubbing it. My daydream disintegrates as I stare down the pole that had slapped my in the face. Then I hear it, the laugh that is so full of snide behind me. I turn around to spot Sarah only a few feet behind me.

“Did you follow me?!” I spit, pinching the bridge of my nose.

Sarah laughs again, leaning against a tree, seemingly not bothered by the wet environment. “Mom told me to, actually. She said that I need to keep an eye on you after that dream.”

“You told her?” I snap, my body tensing with anger.

“Of course I did.” Sarah pushes herself off of the tree. “Did you really think I would keep that kind of thing secret? Jacob, you're obviously hallucinating. You need help.”

“I can't believe you told her! I can't believe you'd betray my trust like that!” My hands itch to hit her, grab her, do something to her to show how enraged I was with her, but they stay firmly at my sides.

She only rolls her eyes. “Puh-lease. Like I care.”

“You know what? You've been a little bitch ever since Daniel Vega cheated on you and I can't stand it any longer.”

All traces of the smug and arrogant attitude wipe off her face. “How dare you!” Her face flushes as she shouts. “How dare you say that!” I can tell she's about to jump at me, ready to punch me with her tiny fists.

Before Sarah can even take the first step towards me, she freezes suddenly, her face shifting into a shocked expression. Her eyes roll up into her head as she crumples to the sidewalk.

My anger is gone immediately, replaced with worry and fright. I run to her side and kneel, grabbing hold of her shoulders and shaking her. “Sarah? Sarah?! God dammit, Sarah, wake up!” Her dark hair falls off her shoulders and reveals the small dart imbedded into her neck.

Just as my mind starts to whirl with the shock that my sister had been shot, I feel something prick my own neck. My hand goes to my throat and I can feel a dart fixed there. I pull it out, but the black dots were already forming in my eyes.

The last thing I sense is the sound of someone talking. “These are the ones, right, Mitchell?” Before I can decipher who's talking and about what, I fall to the ground myself, going unconscious.