back from the grave

And Now What Will You Do

And Now What Will You Do

Duncan Wayne sighed deeply, staring at his cellphone on his bed side table before returning his light brown eyes to his textual studies. Verga hadn’t called or even messaged him since her last wild goose chase a few days  ago.

He slammed his notebook shut too paranoid to read. He didn’t know why in hell he was worrying so much, especially when she would up and disappear in thin air for even months at a time. She was like a stray alley cat, wild, untamable always on the move. It made no sense to chase after her, kittens like that only come and go when it suited them best, staying for the day before returning to their wild and mischievous  lives by night.

He glanced around at his room feeling so much like a bird locked in a luxurious cage. The windows had been barred off and the doors to the hallway bolted shut. No-one could get in and no-one could get out.

Despite how uncomfortable this all made him feel, it was all for his own safety. The serialists were twice as great in numbers since last year and at this point in time it was relatively impossible to tell who was a serialists and who wasn’t. Unlike him, Verga was the fearless sor,t wondering the streets at night with out the slightest of care.

She was brave and strong and has been that way for as long as he’d known her. With her there was all assurance that she’d return. She’d take her time getting back but she’d always return.

But even knowing that he couldn’t stop himself from worrying especially since Vogue the Viscous was rumored to be back in town and came with eyes for one thing.

He racked a hand through his short wavy black hair. He couldn’t help it, he was worried sick. Since he was a child after his near death encounter during a wild forest fire which had devoured the lives of all else except him, he’s been able to sense negative things, kind of the same way animals could sense death or danger. It was an odd unsettling sensation which tightened in his chest, an iron tangy taste would settle at the back of his throat and the urge to vomit, depending on how fatal the situation was,  would dawn on him.

Right now, sheer will power was all that was keeping him from relieving himself of the dinner that had yet to settle. His sixth sense was never wrong, especially not when he wanted to throw up this badly.

As the shadows of night faded and the rays of dawn peeked timidly over the horizon the peace and serenity that usually came to greet him never arrived. There was going to be no mercy here in Bayside, literally at this point the devil’s den.

The beginning of the school, period caught Jason Diehard sauntering down the hallway, in a mood that could freeze hell over, to the library. This first examination was due for nine and he was as blank as his exam paper was going to be if he didn’t try and retain even an ounce of information before he wrote his will and last statement on the exam sheets, because the terrible results would seriously be the death of him.

He sighed, maybe a death like that would be the most merciful he could get. With the serialists running around like they owned the town and all. How did people still expect a student to study knowing that their very lives were at risk. A serialist could impersonate anyone or even be anyone.

And didn’t he know a world about that especially since he his very own parents were serialists themselves.

‘Nope I got nothing,’ Duncan said drawing Jason’s immediate attention.

He offered a glance at the bedraggled teen rummaging through his locker tearing his way through a jungle of paper that came spilling out  after he yanked a text book out of it.