A/N: The story does not end here, but it had to to meet the deadline of my writing class(: Don't worry, there'll be more after this, promise!
(4/16/12): Added more music to this one!
Human, by The Killers. (Ohh, the irony ;D)
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Weeks passed, and it became an unspoken tradition to sit with Meila. Each day we’d huddle under the ancient oak tree, making small talk for the most part.
My life fascinated her for some odd reason, and she had several new questions about it each day. They ranged from what my favorite color was, to my childhood and what it was like in Arizona.
I answered most of the questions the best I could, often accompanying my answers with a story or two. It occurred to me at times, that the interrogation was completely one sided. But it didn’t bother me really, because it was quite entertaining to watch her reactions to what I told her.
Most times she looked focused, eyes trained intently on my face. Other times, she’d look as if she were trying to solve something difficult, and her eyes would narrow as her nose scrunched up a little. The second reaction always confused me, but I never commented on it.
One particularly sunny spring day, we sat quietly under our tree, soaking up the rare rays of sunlight gratefully. She had asked me what classes I planned to take next term, and I began to look through my bag for my new schedule.
I took out my notebook, about to flip through it, when she gasped. I turned to her, raising my eyebrows inquisitively. Her eyes had widened and her mouth was slightly agape, the picture of shock.
“What?” I asked, confused.
As quick as lighting, her hand shot out and snatched my notebook. She carefully traced the symbols worn into the cheap, cardboard cover.
“What are you doing?” I tried again, bewildered.
“Where did you see this?” she demanded, her voice shrill with panic and disbelief.
I flinched automatically at her harsh tone.
“I didn’t see them,” I replied quietly, defensive.
“Like hell you didn’t, mortal!” she snarled, eyes as sharp and cold as icicles.
Mortal?
I looked at her evenly, anger pricking at her accusation.
“I do not see these figures,” I clarified.
“Then how?” she asked impatiently.
“I just… they just happen” I finished lamely, anger dissipating.
A few long minutes passed by in silence, before Meila spoke up again.
“So you just draw them, then?” she asked tentatively, and I could tell her anger had been replaced by both skepticism and curiosity. I nodded and explained how it usually happened, using my history class as an example. Once I finished, we both lapsed into silence again, absorbed by our own thoughts. A while back, the final bell had rung.
“So it is true,” I thought I heard Meila whisper, under her breath. To me she asked, “Walk me home, after school?”
She was uncharacteristically cheery, her expression free of anger and skepticism. But her eyes betrayed her real emotion, for they were cold and stormy with worry. I found myself nodding, agreeing to meet her out in the front yard after school.
YOU ARE READING
The Faeyrwynn Prophecy
FantasyFollowing his uncle's new job, Seth moves overseas to a quietly dull town. Starting over is all he's ever known for the past fifteen years, so it's not a complete surprise to have to finish off his senior year in England. There, he meets a stranger...
