Chapter One
~Welcome to Sanity~
“The door is to the right if you feel sanity is too much for you.”
Same boring old life is what you thought when you picked this book up. Maybe a couple of vampires, elves, something random that catches your interest. Or maybe you just saw the cover and thought “That’s it, the most mystical unicorn book.” Might as well pick it up and read it. The chances are you saw this book randomly sitting in a waiting room or on some shelf at a bookstore. Welcome, now that we have brought realization to the world you can take a few deep breathes. I am just an ordinary writer, as for my stories…
You best find a seatbelt to keep yourself in place. The wild ride is just around the corner, now the choice is up to you. Will you sit and feed your brain by reading or will you simply walk away and watch something on a screen. The invention of the TV, the one thing everyone would sit around and stare at when it first came out. I wonder, did people sit and stare at books ever at all? Everything new gets stared at, infants, cars, stores, houses, heck even the new brand of toilet paper. What happens to the old? Well, that does not concern this in any way at all. Now that you have proved you can last a few sentences into this, we will now get to the real story.
“Roxana! Hurry up in there!” Valentina, a short but frail teenage girl is pounding on the bathroom door. Inside her twin sister Roxana is sitting on the counter. A hand is over Roxana’s mouth holding back the flow of laughter.
First, let me explain the twins. Valentina is as earlier explained, a frail and short teenage girl. Hope you remembered it, seeing it was only a paragraph before this one. She has long blonde hair and brilliant green eyes. I could stop here, like an amateur writer would. This is not her character, there is more than eye color, hair, and height. Valentina’s face has a scar that flows down the right side of her face. She usually covers it with her long blonde hair. Her smile carries out dimples in her cheeks, although her nose is a little too big for her small face.
Valentina is still standing in the hallway, pounding on the door. Her light sleeves flowing down from her wrists to her elbows. Green always looks beautiful on her, it complements her skin and hair. Not the color of baby throw up green or something outrageous like neon green, but soft natural greens. Everything to make her twin sister jealous, only the scar being the one flaw on her body. She has perfect skin, not a single blemish anywhere ever. Perfect grades, perfect family, perfect house, perfect everything. Well, almost everything. She has a twin sister, her twin sister is a little prankster.
Which brings me to Roxana. The grace of a goddess, the pale skin of one of those Goth kids but with a hint of sunlight. Almost the complete opposite of her twin sister. Roxana owns the darkest brown hair cut in layers. It has a weave with blonde in it. The truth is if she were to have full on dark brown hair she would look like those kids that have a million piercings and are destined to get tattoos all over their body.
Roxana has light brown eyes; they are warm and closer to looking like orange eyes. Lucky for her, she shares the gene of smooth skin. The one thing separating her from her twin sister Valentina is her height. Roxana is tall even for most girls her age while her twin sister sits a good four to six inches shorter than her. The two twins share the same face shape, Roxana not having the issue of a pinch too big of a nose. Roxana lacks the scar on her face as well; therefore she had no need to grow it out long like her sister had.
Back into reality, Valentina is still banging on the bathroom door while Roxana is sitting on the counter with a hand still over her mouth. The thrill faint laughter is barely heard on the other side of the door. Valentina had not noticed her sister laughing, though she knew that her sister was surely playing some kind of game. It is early morning, Roxana had already showered, straightened her hair and applied mascara and eyeliner. Valentina is begging to at least shower before her hair turns dull and lifeless with grease. Yes, the girls suffer one common irregularity. Their hair is greasy after about twenty seven hours. It only makes them that much more human.
“Roxana, whatever you are doing it is not funny.” Valentina continues, slowing her knock and setting a hand on the door knob.
“It is to me.” Roxana had finally spoken to her sister on the other side of the door. Frantic laughing is following her speech as she falls from the counter onto the floor of the bathroom. The plush soft carpet catching her fall and keeping her from bruising.
“You take way too much pleasure in ridiculous things.” Valentina still fiercely tries to get into the bathroom. Her left hand knocking while her right hand twists the locked door knob. “Just open this door and let me in.”
“But I am taking pleasure in something.” Roxana is still on the floor, rolling on the soft plush carpet. “I guess it is something you will never know of. You never take pleasure in anything.” Roxana is laughing so hard that she has to gasp for hair between words.
Valentina’s face turned evil. Her eyebrows facing down creating an evil glare between her and the door. The only thing that separates her from a nice long warm shower to begin the day with. This ridiculous door and her ridiculous sister playing a childish game. Eventually Valentina gets so frustrated she kicks the door and pouts off.
“Valentina?” Roxana finds the other side of the door to be quiet. Rising to her knees she looks at the door for a moment. Letting the soft plush carpet to swirl around her knees. A pair of leggings and a skirt accommodate her bottom half. Her upper half having a simple black tank top pulled over her body and a bit over her skirt. Lacking only shoes, she searches the floor of the bathroom. Soon enough she spots her shoes. A pair of low top black converse.
Valentina has ran into Roxana’s joke like this before. She will most likely not open the door for a few hours, therefore Valentina has no choice. The urge to be clean is taking over her body, forcing her to walk outside and into the shed. A house for all the tools of the family, Valentina sneaks a screw driver into the house and to the bathroom door.
Roxana, being the trickster she always has been had something different planned this time. She had witnessed her twin sister removing the door knob before. This time would be no different. Roxana had opened the window and snuck outside to the side of the house. Soon enough she is on the streets, laughter still in her breath as she walks. When she hears her sister calling her name she begins to run, laughter slowing her down by stealing her breath. Once Roxana is a few blocks away from home she finds a park bench and decides to catch her breath and calm down. Once sitting on the park bench she bursts into laughter. Her laughter being something she has lost most conscience over.
Had she been self conscience over her laughter she would have never survived elementary school. Everything seems funny to her, everything amazes her, and she is always surprised at things she knows is going to happen. Laughter is just as common for her as breathing the air around her. Her sister Valentina had been the opposite, she would smile or smirk if she saw or heard something funny. Valentina is the boring one in the group. Therefore, the boring one is the one that gets the most pranks pulled on her.
Roxana continues to laugh, the laughter pulling her to haunch over. The summer breeze hitting her pale face as she continues to laugh historically. Finally she grabs a hold of herself and sits upright, only a few giggles coming from her throat as she looks at the summer scene around her. A few families on walks, their small children on bikes and talking frantically. Families, young and old. A few groups of friends hanging around some other park benches and trees. One person sticks out the most, a boy about Roxana and Valentina’s age sitting under a tree. He had been laying down, his hand extended out.
There is something in his hand. It looks like a small spiral off some kind, perhaps a sketch book? Roxana is very curious as she rises to her feet and starts walking towards the tree. As she steps forward the boy’s identity comes a little clearer. He is much older than she had originally thought, maybe in his early twenties. Much older than sixteen, she takes more steps closer. He has a tattoo on his outstretched wrist. It looks like some kind of snake that is slithering down his arm, the tail of it hidden under his long sleeve black shirt.
Slowly now, Roxana takes slower steps to approach him. He sure enough has a sketchpad in his left outstretched arm. His right arm is laying across his eyes, most likely to keep out the bright summer morning sun. Roxana begins to hesitate with her every step. He has a dirty blonde hair color, the air cut short and back. Even with his thick clothing Roxana can slowly see that he is not weak, surely he has biceps that could restrain someone.
Curiosity killed the cat, but fear killed the scavenging mouse. Again, Roxana moves, her left foot sitting in the shadow of the overhanging tree. Slower now, Roxana steps forward, her right foot falling into the oblivious dark.
“Roxana?” Valentina had finally taken the door knob and broke into the bathroom. Of course, Roxana had not been sitting on the counter anymore. In fact, Roxana was not hiding in the bathroom at all, that is the point when Valentina notices the open window and the curtains blowing in the morning breeze.
Shock and worry surround her as she rushes to the window. She has to stand on the toilet to look out it, seeing the size nine converse foot prints confirm her thoughts. Roxana had bailed out the window, Valentina lifts herself out the window and into the soft ground. A bit of loose soil is lifted up with her drop, the sprinklers had wetted the ground. Just enough to show the direction of Roxana’s steps.
Valetina follows quickly her twin’s steps. Finding them going down familiar streets she had known that her sister had gone to a park they used to walk to as little children. Within moments Valentina is within sight of the park, only to see a familiar park bench. She had rather hoped to see Roxana sitting on the bench; sorrow destroys her face when she sees the empty bench.
Soon enough Valentina sees the same size nine foot prints in the soil around the park. They lead to a tree in the distance. Valentina is not gifted with some kind superhuman vision or anything. The figure looks similar, but to be sure she starts to walk forward in hope that it is Roxana. Of course, I know it is Roxana in the distance still slowly approaching the sleeping boy.
Roxana drops to one knee. Low on the ground she reaches forward, slipping her hand over the sketch book and pulling it slowly from the boy’s hands. Once she has it, she leans against the tree and opens the book. The squeal of the spine sounds telling her it is a well loved but fairly new sketch book. Opening to the first page she looks at the brilliant document. The front page, being the title page is written in some other language. If Roxana were to guess she would say French, it is defiantly not the nonsense her Spanish teacher had written on the board.
The writing is written in paragraphs in ubber small writing. In the center of the page is a brilliant drawing of the moon, each curve in the surface is shaded perfectly. It looks exactly like a black and white look through a telescope at a full moon. Such brilliance, this boy must have been drawing the sky last night. But it seemed so cloudy; yesterday it had rained so there were still clouds in the sky in the late evening.
Carefully, Roxana turns the page to find another beautiful sketch. This one being of the park bench, in the background being a moon. Roxana has to squint her eyes thinking back to science class, wishing she had paid attention to the moon rather than make fun of it for being the sun’s reflection. Slowly, she turns the pages again and again. More and more beautiful sceneries. Each drawn and shaded with such care, with such skill.
The boy by her side had been breathing soft and smoothly trying to remember the scene he had drawn the night before. It had been the moon barely visible from the rain clouds, and yet it looked so beautiful and perfect. Tightening his left hand into a fist he notices something, his sketch book had been moved. Smoothly he sits up, slowly and unnoticeable. Looking around he lightly pats the ground, looking but having no luck finding the sketch book. Brush a hair out of his dark green eyes he looks at the scenery around him. It is day.
Day. The one time the sun’s rays hit the ground. The one time he is not supposed to be out, the one time he is not supposed to draw the moon. Frantic, he searches around him for his forgotten and lost sketch pad. Then he notices something, a shoe attached to a hunched leg to his left. Slowly, he crawls around the tree to find a young girl. Her hair cut in one of those popular punk styles, the blonde weaving through her dark hair.
In her lap was his sketch book. She had reached the last page, the drawing he had made the night before of the moon. Her brown orange eyes are studying the page in front of her better than her hearing is noticing his movement. For a few moments, he sits there and looks over her shoulder, his breath light. Last night’s sketch had come out rather well. The clouds looking as if they are indented into the page. As if the page is the looking glass, if you could reach forward you would feel the cool night air. Feel the moisture those clouds are leaving behind.
With his attention on the girl and his own sketch book he had lost all sense of the world around him. Just as the girl had, now they sit at the tree together not even acknowledging each other’s existence. Neither had noticed the short blonde running towards them, her blonde hair flowing and revealing the long scar on her face.
Once Valentina had reached about half way to the tree she had concluded that it was Roxana. She continued calmly until she had seen the boy sleeping at the tree wake up and looks over her shoulder and at something across Roxana’s lap. A sense of need to protect her twin had come over her. The scar across her face pulsing with a sudden elaborate need to be with her sister. When they had been bored, the doctors had to go into an immediate c section. A scalpel had cut into baby Valentina’s head. Not too deep, but deep enough to scar her face. Remembrance of her birth on her face always. It had never hurt before, not until she saw the face and the dark green eyes of the boy peering over Roxana’s shoulder.
“Roxana!” Valentina had reached the tree. She had not stepped into the shadow of the tree yet, only stayed a bit away from the tree. Something about it told her to be careful, be on the alert for something strange to happen. Roxana had not heard her sister; she had not even glanced up from the sketch book in her lap.
Roxana’s eyes are fixed onto the phase of the moon sketched. It is perfect, just like looking through a telescope. But she had seen no telescope, how could he sketch the clouds every curve without a telescope? Maybe he just has patience, patience and a good keen eye. A steady hand and a keen eye, the two tools of a sketch artist. Only then does she feel the breath on her neck, the hair on her head standing straight with shock and fear.
He had been peering over her shoulder. Ignoring the voice of the girl outside of the shadows. When he is in the shadows he is safe, and this girl has seen the sketches he spent many nights on. What should he make of her? Most likely manipulate her into believing he is a sketch artist who favors the moon. What if the sketches had caught her eye like they had his? She will find herself in more trouble than it is worth.
“Ma’am.” He ends the silence, his hand slipping over her shoulder and onto the sketch book’s surface. “May I have my property back?”
“Oh yes.” Roxana suddenly slams the sketch book shut and jumps forward onto her feet. Extending the sketchbook back down towards the dirty blonde boy’s direction. Both of her hands grasp the edges of the book.
“Thank you.” The tips of his fingers touch the cover of the book. His fingers are full of silver rings, some with moon phases and other with engraved words in Latin. “How long were you looking?”
“Forgive me.” Roxana drops the sketch book. “I had seen all of the sketches while my curiosity took over my mind. I am sorry for tres-”
“You had seen them all?!” His voice is filled with worry as he too stands up. Towering above the already tall Roxana. With dark green eyes looking down at him he pulls her hands into his, the sketch book on the ground below their feet. Slowly, he had slipped a ring off his left ring finger. Placing it silently into Roxana’s palm before leaning back down to the ground and picking up his sketch book.
He lightly dusts it off. Holding it securely in his hand and looking over Roxana’s shoulder again at the blonde girl in the distance. The scar across her face tells him to back up from Roxana a bit. Roxana turns to see her sister. Immediately, she steps towards her sister and out of the shadows. Into the light, her left hand in a fist around the ring the boy had slipped into her hand. Valentina stands, short against her twin sister. Immediately, Valentina takes Roxana’s hand and leads her away, giving the boy in the shadows a death glare while walking away.
“Who was that?” Valentina questions, setting her hand on the back of her twin. Roxana flinches in the sunlight and at Valentina’s touch.
“An artist.” Roxana answers while stepping forward to sit on the park bench. She places her hands in her lap, her right hand curling around her clenched left fist. “He draws the moon.”
“Are you sane? The door is to your right if you feel sanity is too much for you.” Valentina sets her left arm across her sister’s shoulder. “You look like you are in some kind of a…daze.”
“I’m fine.” Roxana lies through her teeth. Slowly, she peers over her shoulder back at the boy in the shadows of the tree. He has sat down again, his sketch book open as he sketches something he is looking at. I had only seen scenes in the night, with the moon in the background. Always the moon, nothing else ever.
“Are you sure?” Valentina questions, still looking at her sister. “What did he tell you?”
“Not much.” Roxana stands up and looks down at her sister. With her right hand she reaches down, a smile on her face while she pulls her sister onto her feet and rushes her away from the park. Away from that tree, away from the shadows, and away from the boy with dark eyes.
“Roxana?” Valentina pulls back while being swung around by her sister. “What’s the matter?”
Roxana turns to face her sister. A smile on her face that makes her eyes squint, slowly she opens them again. Looking over her sister. Valentina had been afraid for her sister; she had not even changed out of her pajamas. Currently Valentina is wearing natural green pajamas and a pair of powder pink bunny slippers.
“I didn’t want to tell you at first.” Roxana begins to giggle. “But you are wearing your pajamas and bunny slippers.”
Valentina looks down at herself and begins to gasp. “Oh heavens! Why hadn’t you told me before?!” Valentina screams and starts running down the street towards home. Roxana stands on the sidewalk, her breath light and full of happiness. A giggle is stuck in her throat, waiting to break through as laughter.
Roxana closes her eyes, pulling her hands behind her back. Her left hand still tight around the ring. The ring digs into her palm and she pulls her hands in front of her. She examines the ring closely; it has the same moon phase as the last sketch from the night before. Looking down at the ring she slips it onto her left ring finger. It fits perfectly, as if it were a one size fits all, it does not even slip out of place.
Turning on her heel, she tries to look back at the boy who had slipped it into his hand. Roxana sees that the boy had disappeared; perhaps he had left to go home? If he has a home to go to, most likely went to find some food. Or perhaps he has a studio somewhere, some place where he paints and sells paintings.
Chapter Two
~Phases~
“I don’t think an apology will be enough for this?”
Roxana wakes up from being restless. Turning onto her side she looks at the alarm clock by her bed. Furious, she kicks away her dark blankets and neon sheets. Yes, Roxana has neon sheets along with dark almost black blankets. The alarm clock had shown the time, it was merely ten o’clock. She had rest her head on the pillows at exactly nine fifty eight. Swearing she was asleep, she sits up and turns on her bedside lamp.
The light reflects the world around her. On her night stand sits the ring that the boy had slipped into her left palm earlier that day. Her walls all a light shade of purple, her carpeting being the same darker shade of purple as always. Neon purple sheets and black furniture, along with her blankets. Roxana examines everything in her room, looking from her desk to the window that sits across the room from the desk. The black curtains are blowing gently in the evening breeze.
Silently, she rises out of bed. Letting her left foot hit the ground before her right. Her light blue pajama pants looking odd against her white tank top. Still, she finds herself slipping the ring back onto her left ring finger. Walking across the room she leans against the window sill and looks outside into the backyard. The first thing she Roxana sees is the fence, a cat is stretching out across it. The moon is in the background from her height, immediately she rushes to her desk to grab a camera.
Looking desperately she gives up, there is no camera on the desk and the cat has most likely jumped off by now. Depression hits Roxana as she picks up a journal her twin Valentina had given her for Christmas. Roxana had never been the girl to write down everything that happens in her life. She would know the number one thing she would have written. “Dear diary, today I laughed at some jerk.” Something common in the sort.
Pulling a pencil out she starts walking to the window sill. Sitting on the edge, she looks out the window and sees the cat still there. From around her right wrist she pulls off a hair tie and makes sure her dark hair with blonde highlights is off her neck. Opening to the first page she notices the pages are much like the pages in the sketch book she had looked at. Letting her left hand slide across the empty page she closes her eyes and catches every sketch in that boy’s sketch pad earlier.
Lightly, she lets the pencil hit the page. Her eyes are still shut. Roxana’s right hand draws the scene that is so perfectly lain out before her. Only to find herself to stop. Slowly, she opens her eyes and looks down at the scene her hand had finished. The moon, its every detail is in the background. The fence is cutting the moon in half. Even the cat is in the sketch, its every hair so surely groomed. It would look like a cheap Halloween black cat drawing; except for it has so much more details.
Taking in a deep breath, she looks back at the sky. The moon has moved, making the scene completely different. Not as beautiful. It is weaning, away from the full moon that had shown a few nights ago. Slamming the journal shut Roxana looks around her room. Soon enough she strips out of her pajamas and slips into a pair of dark denim jeans. Pulling a jacket over her tank top she slowly zips the zipper up. Roxana ends with slipping into a pair of loose high top converse, feeling too lazy to even lace them up.
Before opening her window she slips the hair band out of her hair and lets it fall into its place. Her mascara was washed off before bed, along with her eyeliner leaving her as a make up less face. Not caring, she continues and finds herself in the park she had been in the morning. Roxana takes a seat on the bench and looks up at the sky. She gazes at the sky, the stars and the moon who has made his way across the sky.
“Can’t sleep?” Someone takes a seat by Roxana on the bench. “I find myself in that problem a lot lately.” Roxana ignores their talking completely.
The woman who had taken the seat by her on the bench hunches over, balancing her elbows on her knees and her chin in her palms. Dark curls flow down her neck, heavy eyeliner and shadow cloaking her eyes. A slim bodice pulls her body tight which flows out into a long red wine colored skirt. Her shoes being three inch black heels. She looks like someone who would walk out of a club. Dark eyes without life in them really, they seem as if there are no irises, only pupils.
“Wouldn’t blame you.” The woman takes another sigh and looks up to the sky. “You’re mine now, even if you don’t believe it.” Another sigh brings the woman to her feet, her cherry red lips curving in a slight smirk.
“I have no clue what you are talking about.” Roxana avoids eye contact, keeping her eyes in the sky. “I merely went on a walk; I know self defense and how to avoid knives.” Roxana speaks, fear rushing through her veins but her memory of self defense classes telling her to stay strong and calm.
“I won’t hurt you.” The woman places her black gloved hand onto Roxana’s shoulder. “Draionchea didn’t explain the terms of seeing his work. Did he?” The woman looks up into the sky again. “Or perhaps he had rather meet you before I did.”
The woman turns and looks at the tree that Roxana had once saw the boy. She is standing still, her hands on her waist, only to find their ways out to her side. Whispers come from her mouth, whispers in another bizarre language. They are summoning the boy, Draionchea. Before the next breeze begins, the dirty blonde haired boy is on one knee bowing to the woman in the wine skirt.
“Rise Draionchea. You have a new mission.” The woman looks at Roxana who is still looking at the sky. Roxana’s face pale from fright and her hands in fists and shaking. Fear, it is great enough that even Draionchea a seer can smell it. The woman in the red wine skirt has a smile on her now blood red lips as she starts walking down the street away. Leaving Draionchea’s dark green eyes looking after her.
“If I scream the surrounding houses will hear it.” Roxana slowly turns her eyesight at the boy who is now sitting on the bench beside her.
“I don’t think an apology will be enough for this?” His hands are entwined with each other creating one fist. His back hunched over, his elbows balancing on his thighs. Sorrow is filled in his eyes, in his breath as he looks down at the dirt below him. A few tears fall down onto the dirt and create swirls in the dirt.
“I don’t want to know what the hell is going on here.” Roxana curses with tight teeth. “I just want you to leave me alone.”
“I’m sorry ma’am.” The boy opens his eyes, focusing on Roxana’s fearful face. “There are few things in this world I wish I did not have to do. And yet, I have to.” Another tear slips from his eyes, falling its way down his cheek.
“I’m leaving now.” Roxana rises to her feet. “And if you follow I will file a police report.” As she takes a step forward Draionchea’s hand catches her right arm. Shock freezes Roxana still in the position.
In no time Draionchea is standing, towering over Roxana. His other hand holding her left hand around her back. The silence of the night flows by them, most in which is destroyed by ongoing cars. Most of them must be thinking they know each other. The smoothness in the way the boy holds Roxana’s hands could be mistaken as close friends. He pulls Roxana close into his chest, forcing her to stay put, also allowing his lips to whisper into her ear.
“I am afraid when you saw my sketches your eyes were cursed. The ring I gave you was meant to protect you.” Draionchea’s words are swift, impossible for people even a foot away to understand. “I can see that nothing can help you now.” He begins his story, the story of the night.
In the begging there was the sun, the earth, and the moon. The moon reflects the sun; the earth reflects both the sun and the moon. There are two sides in modern day world, there is the moon and there is the earth dwellers. Everyone is an earth dweller, the woman in the red wine skirt being the only moon dweller left. Some earth dwellers carry a gene; it is only awakened by a follower of the moon though.
Draionchea had been born and earth dweller. Walking home from work one night he had seen the moon, a woman coming from the shadows soon and looking into his eyes. He had lost his freedom; she was desperate for a watcher. As the last follower of the moon she had need for many in her command to watch the moon. She had been separated; she needs one earth dweller to find her way back for her. She cannot watch the moon; her eyes are not accustomed for looking at a moon at night but at the sun. Only at the sun and darkness.
She needed someone; Draionchea is not the only one she commands. Her force is to have her way home. Draionchea has wondered the planet in the night for many years, never aging, never feeling pain, never feeling hungry, and never feeling parched. The woman has never found the way she needs to go, but she has never approached one and told them directly like she had this night. To cancel out the protection spell in the ring Draionchea had given Roxana there is obviously a gene inside her.
“I believe you are her only way home.” Draionchea ends his story and lets out a short sigh. “Which means she will stop at nothing to use you. When she uses you, there is a slight possibility she will posses you.”
“This is strange, get your freaked body away from me or I will scream.” Roxana struggles. Draionchea clenches her tighter, using the muscle he had unmeaning showed off that morning.
“She has made me suffer for many years.” He whispers even quieter now. “And you are my way out. I can use you to get into the moon’s world and free my soul. They will eat us; all of us earth dwellers that know that their world exists. Will you work with me?”
“I thought you had said she was the only one left.” Roxana pulls away again, the grasp around her growing tighter.
“I wasn’t lying. But she has spells, she can bring the dead ones back to life by devouring our souls. She came to earth originally to do so, also to take over our pathetic planet.” Draionchea whispers lightly. “I am afraid even if you refuse to work with me, I will have to daze you and force you to disappear from the human world.”
“I think you best get your arms off from around me. And I give you to the count of three.” Roxana starts pulling away again.
“I need an answer.” His voice is pleading now.
“One…” Roxana trails off.
“Try me and you will fail.”
“Two…”
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Three!” Roxana kicks back with her leg, trying to cause pain to his body. He has a short giggle at her fail. He does not feel pain, not physical pain anyway.
“Sleep.” He turns Roxana over to face him. His breath blows into her face, forcing her body to grow limp and weak. She falls, her head resting in his arms. “Such a stubborn girl. I refuse to be devoured.”
Chapter Three
~Dark Shadow Room~
“May blood be spilt, it will be my own.”
Roxanna, still in Drionchea’s arms after the journey from the park bench to the warehouse is still out cold. She only starts shivering and coming to her senses after the sun has already began to rise in the east. With the long shadows being casted through the east windows, Drionchea’s smile grows slightly. The rising sun, one of his best covers to stay away from the woman of the moon. Her lustful gaze, one of the main reasons he was dragged into all of this.
Drionchea lets out a heavy sigh while dropping the sleeping girl to the ground below him. Her dark straightened hair scattering on the dusty floor while her body lies so unnatural. Anyone could walk by and know that she had been dropped while sleeping, some might even believe her to be dead for real.
“From the darkest shadows of hell he rise.” A voice sounds through the rafters of the buildings. The curved smile on Drionchea’s face matches the cold dark spear that stabbed his heart only years ago.
“Down to Earth she cry.” Drionchea’s returned quote leads to three people dropping from the rafters. The small resistance that is slowly growing, against their will they are forced to watch the moon and report to the woman their seeing. In daylight, there is no moon; the lady surely should not care much of what they do.
The first watcher to approach Drionchea is a man that stands nearly half an inch shorter than him. Instead of dirty blonde hair he has dyed black hair. This watcher watches from a city, a city in which he needs to work hard to fit in with. His eyes fall to the ground where Roxanna lies. With the toe of his low top canvas converse he nudges at her head. Eventually moving her head to the side and allowing him a better look of her.
“Surely cannibalism is not what you are wishing of us.” The watcher continues to examine Roxanna. Her slender body with a slight height to it. Long legs, and a nose which seems oh so very familiar.
“She is what the woman needs.” Drionchea looks down at Roxanna and spits to the side. “This girl cursed herself by looking upon my clumsy work. By dumb luck she has gotten caught up in all this.” His eyes are beginning to form tears from the pain he knows Roxanna will suffer.
“You cursed this girl?” The watcher looks from Roxanna to Drionchea. “It only means that she is of your responsibility. If what the woman of the moon says is true, it will be your own hand in which slays this young girl.” With quick hands the watcher pulls out a long slender knife and extends it out to Drionchea.
“Brother.” Drionchea looks down at the knife. “There will be no blood spilt on this holy ground. Blood of the innocent will only bring this world to more death. A new watcher will be born to replace her.” His left hand lightly touches the blade, pushing the knife back towards the dark haired watcher.
“May we not forget of prophecy?” Another one of the watchers steps forward. A woman this time, a shrill cry begging behind her voice. “She was bound to come, either way we face it. The woman of the moon will open the gateway between our worlds if we kill this girl. The gateway will open, if we are the brilliant ones we will have enough mind to know she is of more use to us alive.” The woman watcher’s hand touches the blade as well. Her hand doubles over Drionchea’s while she pulls the blade towards her.
“May blood be spilt, it will be my own.” The final watcher steps forwards into the group surrounding Roxanna. “Aaron, this young girl may look worthless, but she is our world’s only hope.”
Roxanna’s left leg twitches before extending out in a stretch. Her inhuman sleeping position is soon to change as she stretches from the sleep that Drionchea had placed on her. Before her eyes can flutter open her lips break apart and her mouth opens, filling the room with the sound of a yawn. Finally, her eyes start to flutter open, her hands quickly rubbing the sleep out of them. Her thoughts only thinking that she had rolled off the edge of her bed, which all in which happened last night was a crazy dream. Come to find out, she is on her knees and looking at the four that stand surrounding her.
The woman watcher takes a step in closer towards her. Reaching her hand out, she hesitates before pulling it back in to her side and equipping a knife of her own. Everyone in the small circle grows tense, down in a hunch position with a knife in their hands. Even Drionchea shows his rebellious actions with a knife of his own.
“We are not prepared for this yet. A week more would be nicer, if we kill her now we will have more time.” The first watcher’s voice sounds. His voice is cursing every word, such venom that hides behind his tongue.
“Brother, I will not support your opinion.” The woman looks as if at any moment she can spring forward and bring down the watcher who originally equipped himself with a knife. “You have no hope that we can do this.”
The room grows silent, a few of the watchers growing more tense. The woman watcher drops her knife, loosening her mood completely and standing by the side of Roxanne. Roxanne is frantically searching for a safe way to escape. She curses under her breath knowing that there is no hope, everyone around her has a knife and they look like kids kicked out of school at a young age.
“I don’t need hope, it is only knowledge that will bring us to victory.” The male watcher looks at his own sister. She is biting her lips, standing between him and the girl he swears to run through. “Knowledge tells me that we have less of a chance to survive with her.”
Roxanna gets down into a crouch and looks at Drionchea, her memories of the night before filling her head. The moon, the beauty, his drawings she looked at in the shadow of the trees. Before she can gain complete control she finds herself running forward, hitting Drionchea in his waist with all her weight. Drionchea’s hands fly forward and the knife slips from his fingers as Roxanna still pushes from surprise. Eventually, Drionchea’s long legs reach their limit and he falls back onto the ground, Roxanna landing perfectly on top of his chest.
The flooring below them gives away as if it were made out of water. They fall through, Roxanna holding onto Drionchea’s shirt from the surprise of falling through a dark oil like substance. Every particle of air leaves her body and she gasps for air in the oil liquid, she does not drown, but she does not gain air in her lungs either. The free falling suddenly ends when they slow down, right before they hit hard on a stone ground. Drionchea’s arms wrap around Roxanna as he lands straight onto the stones, cracking a few with the momentum of falling.
Roxanna burrows her head in Drionchea’s chest deep enough to hide everything around them away from her. Wincing in pain, Drionchea finally slowly moves him arms from around her and notices she is not breathing. Rolling his eyes, he tries sitting up and feels the sharp pain on his back. He falls back and wraps his arms back around Roxanna and lets out a groan from the pain. He is swallowed up in his own pain, letting his own eyes circle back into his head, holding back the urge that tells him to scream. He is not a fighter, not an endurance watcher.
Any other of the watchers would have landed with more grace. Had they not had grace they would already be on their feet and looking around the world they had entered. It is a space in between earth and the moon. The dark shadow room. There isn’t anything here, it is just a space where lost things are. It is easy to get out of, just a small walk. It randomly appears, usually not around humans, of course Roxanna is no longer a normal human. She has become a watcher, just like the rest of them; the world’s laws have changed. Some changes better than others.
Roxanna finally gasps, her lungs filled with air as she coughs and pulls her head up. She notices that she has landed on Drionchea, immediately she jumps back and onto her own feet. The stress in her knees forcing her to collapse back onto her knees and looking back down at Drionchea.
“This is just a dream.” Roxanna closes her eyes, her hands flat on the ground between her folded legs. “I just need to wake up.” She shakes her head viciously and starts screaming at herself to get together.
Drionchea starts to gain consciousness back again, his eyes still closed as he sits up again. Supporting his upper body on his left arm and rubbing the back of his head with his right hand. It takes awhile for him to realize that Roxanna had already moved off him and started talking to herself. Something he did the first time he wandered into the dark shadow room. Slowly, he opens his eyes to see the crying mess that is sitting beside him.
“You don’t have to be that emotional about me catching your fall.” He kids around with Roxanna. She seems not to notice nor care that he is speaking. Drionchea stretches out his legs before bringing himself on his knees and looking down at Roxanna. Her jacket had began to unzip, showing the edges of a dark printed tank top. Her elbows have a few scrapes from the fall, it figures that her body is still going to heal slowly since she is new to this world.
Drionchea puts his hand on her zipper, hoping to remove the jacket to see the extent of her wounds. Roxanna, like some sort of demon suddenly stops her crying and opens her eyes, looking straight into Drionchea’s dark green eyes. His shaggy hair covering just below his brows, his right hand still on Roxana’s zipper. Hesitations come over Drionchea, this is the wrong moment to have a hand on her jacket, and yet he wishes to see the extent of her wounds.
“Forgive me.” Drionchea pulls back quickly. “Your elbows are scraped and you most likely would not let me roll up your sleeves.” He looks away, hiding the rosary blush that had filled his face out of embarrassment. Confusion comes over him; he cannot even remember the last time he had blushed at a girl. He had fallen in love with female watchers, but never in his new life had he ever blushed. It is as if her eyes had…It is as if she had forced his heart to actually beat.
“This is all just a dream.” Roxanna speaks calmly. She speaks, and yet she knows that her words are completely wrong. It is not a dream, and she knows it is no longer a dream. “I’ll wake up soon.”
“Until you do.” Drionchea tries to grab a hold of himself. It fails while he tries to rise to his feet. He fails the first few times, finally succeeding and helping Roxanna up onto her feet. She collapses back down to the ground. Again he raises her to her feet, wrapping her left arm around his shoulder to keep her from falling.
“Where are we?” Roxanna questions.
Fleur De Chant Community Member 
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