Abnormal

1- Morning

I'm five, playing behind the castle with my red Alaskan husky puppy. She lays in the grass in front of me, sniffing the ground so much I'm surprised it doesn't get sucked up her nostrils. "Okay," I say, "roll over!" She stops sniffing the ground to look up at me, then sneezes, and runs off barking. "Hey," I call, laughing, "come back!" Jenna runs into the trees, and the underbrush of the nearby forest, and I chase after her. "Jenna! Come back!" "Hunter?" A familiar voice, half calls, half asks. So familiar, and for some reason makes me sad, whose voice-then I see her. Standing in a patch of sunlight shining through a break in the branches overhead, it shines on her fiery red hair, and it looks like she has a halo of light. Her light skin seems to glow, almost as bright as her emerald eyes always did. "Mom-" my voice catches on a sob, "how..." I try to ask, but the question refuses to form. "I'm so sorry I haven't been around Andy, but I am alive. You've been so strong, my little Hunter." I reach out for her, but then she just vanishes, and everything goes white.

My eyes snap open to find nothing but darkness, with the exception of the red glow of 5:17, to the right. I calm down, and stop gasping for breath. Slowly my senses come back to me. I haven't dreamt about Mom in forever. She's been gone for thirteen years, it's been twelve since they declared her dead. I used to hold out hope that there was another reason for her abandoning dad and me, especially after I started having that dream, but kids grow up. I realized it was just a dream. An impossible wish, and Mom was never coming back. Once I accepted that the dreams stopped. Until now... I wonder about why that is, but interrupt myself as I notice my face is wet.

I wipe some of the moisture off of on my pointer finger, and look at it. I don't see anything, and so I taste it. I'm surprised to find it salty and wet, then again, what else could I have possibly been expecting, but I haven't cried in years. Then again, I haven't dreamt about Mom in years either. I wipe my face off with my forearm as I swing my legs out of bed.

It only takes a couple of minutes till I'm dressed in jeans, a simple t-shirt, and a worn brown leather jacket. Jenna stretches, trots over to me, and licks me in the face since I'm bent over to tie my shoes. "Jenna!" I whisper-shout, "Come on!" I wipe her saliva off my face, and onto her back. There are streaks of grey starting to run through her fiery fur. "You're getting old aren't you?" I say, as I stroke her head. She growls at this comment, and backs away, giving me a look. "Oh, you don't like that do you? Face it, you are a thirteen year old dog, that's like eighty in dog years." She turns around as if to say, "Talk to the butt."

"Fine, I'm sorry. You're practically a puppy, you look so young."

At this she comes back, tail wagging, and licks me right in the face! Again! "Jenna!" I wipe the saliva from my face again, this time with my sleeve, and open the window I've been sitting on the ledge of this whole time.

Jenna jumps up with her front paws onto the ledge. "Jenna," exasperation has reached my voice now, "I don't doubt that you can climb down with me, but you can't climb back up." Jenna gives me another look, sometimes I swear she's a human in a dog's body. "Ok, you can get back up too, but you could break a leg. It's really dangerous for a dog. She whimpers, backs away, barks, -quietly, thank goodness,- and jumps onto my bed, to my dresser, to on top of the armoire. She circles once before curling up with her head laying behind her tail. She looks over the top at me. I roll my eyes, show off, before climbing out the window onto the roof, and pull it as close to closed as it can get, and still stick out a little so I can open it from the outside later. I check my watch, 5:22. Alright, I have two and a half hours. I think to myself.

I make my way across the roof to a large tree, that has a branch that hangs about one foot over the roof, and a few feet above it. Jumping, I grab the branch and pull myself on it, with the ease that can only be attained through familiarity built with years of practice. I climb through the branches, and jump from the lowest one to the ground. I land with a thump, but perfectly on my feet. Carefully, I make my way over to the part of the castle walls with the stables, and sneak out that way. It leads right into the forest, exactly where I'm trying to go. I follow the road for a couple minutes before turning straight into the trees. I follow a deer run, a path worn into the underbrush from the constant repeated use, which leads me right to the stream. I continue to follow the stream till it takes me to my pond. It's nice, calm, beautiful, and best of all, secluded. I take a deep breath, and hang my jacket on a branch. The brisk fall wind chills my arms, but I ignore it, and rub my hands together. Really quick I look all around, searching for prying eyes, at one point I hear branches rustling and breaking, but find that the source of the sound is nothing more than a squirrel. Satisfied I'm all alone I raise my arms, and get ready to practice. Still, I can't help but feel like I'm being watched.

Then again, I think everyone committing a crime considered treason, and punishable by death, feels like they're being watched.

Even the prince.

1029 words