Unleashing Demons | D.D. Bk. 1 | ✔️

Chapter 1: The Vision

I sat there for what seemed like an hour, staring out at the obscurity of the storm. The rain drummed a beat against the roof, a calming tune to my senses. Once I gathered my scattered self, I shifted gears before backing out of the deserted parking lot.

Only to have my car backfire until it suddenly died.

I swore at my battered sedan, banging a frustrated fist on the wheel in front of me. Of all the time...

Looks like I have to start my day early.

* * * * * *

Despite the earlier rainfall, the sun shined brightly throughout the rest of the morning. The city sidewalks were crowded with people who shuffled about on their way to work while the streets clustered with ongoing traffic. The city blared with life on another brand new day.

I took in the sight; the tall buildings that towered over its dwellers consisted of both old and new architectural designs. They blended harmoniously with the tree-lined street walks which gave the city a natural edge. The mere simplicity and beauty of this metropolis always captivated me. It served as a constant reminder on how it had been a great idea to move here from the small town I used to call "home".

Although I tend to get nostalgic whenever I thought about it, I just simply reminded myself that it was for my own good. My aunt-dad's sister-was resistant on the idea at first. After the incident, she took me under her wing; she doesn't have a family of her own, which I never questioned. With her being the only family I ever had, it would seem logical that I stayed with her until I can do well on my own. But my insurgent self reasoned that it can help me get back to my proper footing, a clean slate. After further insistence, she reluctantly agreed, in a condition that I called and showed myself from time to time. I left after I graduated high school.

My back trickled with sweat as I walked the fifteen minute journey to work from my apartment. With my useless car at the repair shop, I decided to walk off the remnants of the nightmare instead. The mere thought on why I've dreamt of it again after for such a long time, was still a mystery to me.

I finally reached The Hawthorne Historical Museum, a little gem tucked in a corner amid the city. The building erected somewhere in the late 1960's, with its classical design akin to ancient Greece or Rome. Characterized with its carved decorations, pillars and symmetry, it was a wonder how it survived the pace of modernity-untouched by time.

As I entered, the workers already assembled the scaffoldings at the vast reception area-with their painting materials ready. The museum will soon be celebrating its 80th anniversary with a themed-exhibit-hence its yearly restoration. Mimi, the receptionist, was already at her circular desk, phone tucked in one ear. She acknowledged me with a tilt of her chin and jerked a thumb at one of the two glass-doorways that was on either side of the reception counter. She mouthed the word Ice Queen and I thanked her as I pushed the door.

A platinum-haired woman dressed in a pantsuit, stood amidst the chaotic exhibition room. She directed the staff as they packed the once displayed artifacts into labeled crates with protective padding. Others shifted furniture around the expansive space and carried glass cases out to the storage area.

"Careful on those, make sure you store them under the Egyptian Relics for inventory. I said careful you little twat!"

I flinched at the same time the staff did, who apparently almost let an objet d'art worth more than her yearly pay, slip through her fingers. She and her companion carefully packed the last relic and hurriedly set off as they pushed a cart with two crates.

"Good morning, Ms. O'Reilly."

Roselyn O'Reilly glared coldly at me through her gold-rimmed eyeglasses, the lines on her face contracted as she scowled. Being chief curator for more than two decades, she was beyond dedicated to the well-being of the museum. Known as Ice Queen, Slayer, She-Dragon and other profanity to most of the employees below the food chain, she tends to pierce your dignity with the heel of her stiletto shoe.