Hidden Appearances

Dissociative Behavior

Hello, everyone! This is Heather. It's been over four years since I've written a chapter for this story. I started this story my senior year and stopped before I graduated. Shortly after, I started college and had to worry about paying bills and keeping up with homework. It was hard but I got certified in Teaching English as a Second Language. 

Because of a certain fan, who's stayed with me even with my years without updating, has convinced me to restart this story. I had to reread everything I wrote and try to understand what I had created so long ago. 

So, before you think this is an update, think of this as a new start to the story. This is chapter one of Hidden Appearances 3rd draft. I hope you all enjoy and leave wonderful comments. I worked really hard on this chapter and tried to bring back the amazing world I had created.

Something to take note of is that many of the characters names have changed. Gingerale is now Gaeah Gracelynne DeQuincy or Gracie Q. Sam Grafter is now Sam Ambrosia. Uncle Frank and Aunt Nelly are now Uncle Flint and Aunt Neda. More changes will be revealed as the story continues. 

Otherwise, welcome back to the world of Nenharma!

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It had been sitting on the table for over an hour. I could almost feel its presence as I scurried into the cluttered living room, throwing my school bag on the tattered couch. Dust fluttered into the air, coating my face with a thin layer of dead human skin and last week's nail clippings.

It was time. Shaking off the filth, I turned back to the offending object sitting seemingly harmless on the kitchen counter. I knew from past experiences that nothing was powerless. I could already hear the curses coming from Uncle Flint's office as he "negotiated" with a client. My time was short; I needed to act now.

My stroll to the kitchen counter was quick and soundless. Only the dust from the floor could be seen in my wake. After so many years, I knew how to get to one place to another without being noticed. In my situation, I knew that one mistake could lead to a world of pain.

Reaching across the counter, I nearly had the object in my hands when I heard the counter creak. Not even a second later, I heard my uncle's insidious ranting cease. The sound of a door slamming on the wall was my only warning before my uncle's enraged face appeared in front of me.

Backing against the counter, I tried to seem impassive, saying, "Flint. You're home?"

I had hoped when he remained quiet and unmoving that a confrontation wouldn't take place. Uncle Flint glared at me for nearly a minute before he turned away, stalking back to his office. When the coast was clear, I swung around and reached for the object one more time. I practically had my hands around the object when a load crack sounded against the kitchen counter.

I froze as I saw the lament counter fracture and pieces flying every which way. But the yellowing, lament counter wasn't the only thing I was staring at; my left hand laid in a bloodied and broken mess, coating the counter with a fresh coat of crimson. My mind screamed but no sound left my lips. Only my head moved to notice Uncle Flint holding a cracked, newly bloodied bat in his offending hands.

Uncle Flint's face lit up as he let a hell worthy laugh erupt into the silent house. As he readied another swing, I fell to the right, falling to the floor. As Uncle Flint continued his assault, breaking the counter, the object I was reaching for rolled onto the floor next to me.

As I readied myself to grab the object, I felt a burst of pain on the right side of my forehead. I didn't need to see to know what hit me. Still, I remained sitting in the position I fell to and grabbed the object. I smiled as I finally accomplished my original goal.