King of Shadows: Of Blood and Tears

Chapter 1: Landing in Findara

Maximus was lying on his queen size bed, squeezing his eyes tightly shut, trying to fall asleep. He always seemed to have to talk himself into closing his eyes, convincing...no, forcing his body to alert itself that it was time to get some much needed rest. 

Yet every night, his thoughts appeared to have their own agenda. His mind unraveling, throwing him into spiraling reflection, and even retrospection of his life. He thought about the good things he had done, the mistakes he had made, and what actions he should have taken instead of what he had actually done. 

Then the self doubt would flood his veins, his lack of confidence within himself and who he wanted to be was the ruthless storm brewing inside. The thunder was too loud to sleep, waves coursing through his body, too fierce for his ships of esteem to find their way. Undoubtably making it that much harder for him to snap out of the tangled mess he found himself in every single night.

Maximus, restless more than ever, turned to his left side instead of his right. Still not comfortable. He thought as he sat up in his bed and looked around his room. He flipped his pillow around, searching for the cool soft cloud his head and soul were about to encounter.

Much better. He thought, eyes growing heavy at last.

His full head of dark brown hair now smothering the pillow, no doubt turning into its "bed head." Because of this, Max had theorized to a couple of friends he had made over the summer that he thinks somebody sneaks into homes at night, glueing the hair of individuals that have done them wrong. In Max's case, his hair was nearly impossible to put back into its normal form after a good night's rest. "Damned bastards." His friend William Johnson would say. He said that to just about everything, though, or he would cut it short and just say a good ole' "damn bastard." Depending on the severity of the situation. 

Max would typically just keep talking, knowing Johnson probably wasn't listening, anyway. "Whoever I wronged really holds a grudge." Max would reply. He was right about one thing, at least. That somebody, or perhaps something, sneaks around meddling in his affairs. Unfortunately for him, it was not a man with a bottle of glue, snickering as he squeezed it into his medium length hair. "Damned bastard..."

Just as the seventeen-year-old boy was about to doze off into the land of dreams, his thoughts became unbearable. Blaring as if the grudge-holder snuck a boombox inside of his ear canal. Thoughts relative to why, ever since he moved to Shadow Grove, he had been having the weirdest notion that something wasn't quite right. Or how the day he had today used to be special, but now just felt like another draining day. And to most, it was.

It was August 19, an average day in Shadow Grove, or to any member of humanity skimming over a calender. But on Max's calender, it was his birthday. A day meant for celebration, though as of late, Maximus did little of that. His family barely spoke to him, and when they did; it would be blunt and short.

The morning of his birthday, he used to be surprised with breakfast set out on the counter (Bacon, eggs, toast with no butter, and a large glass of chocolate milk). His mom would leave his present on the counter in the oak filled kitchen. His four sisters would wait for him to come up to the "surprise." 

As he got older, all of that seemed to fade away. His mom grew distant. Her cold eyes frosting the air around them as if he had wronged her. Maybe she is the glue grudge holder. Max thought to himself, wincing.

His awakening from a night terror began the day of August 19, 2022. When he came up to see if anybody was waiting, he saw nothing. No breakfast, no present, not even a relative in the vicinity.

A looming stillness taking hold of a day meant to be special. Though it was not just a day of being ignored, it was also a day filled with questions about why his family grew so distant.