Prologue

Prologue

A Chapter by Leigh
"

This is the Prologue for the Entrapment story.

"

Prologue �" 10 years ago


Autumn was a fitting season for this �" It was a time of ending and dying. I felt a leaf crunch under my black shoe and a tear slide from my eyes to land on the wet ground. I squeezed my father’s hand, which was cold and shaking. He was doing no better at holding back the tears than I was.

The sadness in the air was palpable and I was sure that everyone felt it.  How could they not? My mother was the most courageous and loving person I had ever known.

             And now she was gone.

The grief was unrelenting. She can’t be gone. The desperate thought seized my mind and I sniffled as the tears began to come faster. Memories of her kissing me goodnight, playfully tickling me, and whistling as she taught me to cook overtook me. An an only child, I had the unique pleasure of soaking in all of my parents’ affections.

But now what? My heart sank as I thought about returning to my house on the cul-de-sac and opening the heavy front door… and mom not being there.

My heart seemed to twist in my chest and it was hard to breath as I watched the men lower the casket into the ground. My dad wrapped his arm around my shoulder and whispered, “I love you,” and I wasn’t sure if he was speaking to me or to my mom. Possibly, he was speaking to us both.

            Finally daring to look away from the casket, I found myself gazing at the group of people around us. None of them were even related to Mom. Her parents had died long ago and she had been an only child. There wasn’t even a cousin or an aunt to speak of. 

             However, what Mom lacked in family she made up for in friends.  Mom had touched the lives of many teachers and staff at my school through her hours of volunteer and involvement. She had a knack for developing relationships with anyone she spoke with. Dad’s family was there and I could see my Grandmother, Nana, looking heartbroken.

      It wasn’t just her expression that indicated her sadness. There were colors around Nana that reflected her emotions. The colors surrounding her were a deep blue/purple, and those same colors could be seen in various shades among the guests. The colors meant sadness and grief, and I knew that everyone at the funeral sincerely cared for my mom. There was not a single person feigning their sorrow.

            At the very least, I knew my mother was loved. I had lived 12 years with the best mother I could have asked for.

            Wait. I squinted at a man standing at the far edge of the group. He had jet black hair and looked to be in his early forties, about my mom’s age. I didn’t recognize him and the colors surrounding him were odd.

           According to Mom, these colors were called auras. She could see them too, and they gave us the ability to see people’s true intentions. I instantly knew that this man’s intention was not to show his respects and come to grips with his grief. He was angry!  I could see red forming around him as clear as day. The red was mixed with a deep blue and purple, but there were also waves of green, representing jealousy, a desire to take revenge. I remember seeing it in many of the boys who were picked on at school.

           I could relate to his feelings. I was angry too, and seeing his anger only heightened my own. Could it be that he also knew that Mom’s death was no accident? Did he know about the creatures, the ugly horrifying demons that had killed her?

            I was sure that the creatures had killed her.  Everyone else thought she had died in a tragic car accident. But I knew better! I was there when it happened.

    It was just 3 days earlier. Just 3 days ago �" But that seemed a lifetime away.

            Mom always walked me to the bus stop where the school bus would pick up the kids on our street. Michelle was one of the girls I usually sat with. She had short curly blonde hair that always bounced as she walked. We climbed onto the bus together, and I happily claimed a window seat. Mom was still waiting at the corner and she waived at me.

            Her wave caused me to blush. At 12 years old, I was getting a little old to have my mom wave goofily from a bus stop. But her cheerful yellow aura and her utter happiness was too much to ignore, and so I waved back and smiled. Satisfied, she turned to cross the street towards home.

            Just then something caught my eye. A black aura. I had never seen a black aura before. Curious, I pressed myself into the window. The aura was coming from a person in a car that was heading down the street Mom was about to cross. I knew something was terribly wrong. The black aura was so ominous; it had to mean something bad.

            The car accelerated towards Mom just as she was crossing the street. My heart froze in my chest and I shouted “Watch out!” My hands pressed into the cold glass of the bus window, and terror overwhelmed me as Mom stepped right in front of the car.

            NO!

            The car slammed into her. Disbelief, grief, anger, terror and an overwhelming need to be at my mother’s side overtook me. A wave of dizziness enveloped me. The world was spinning, and not just metaphorically. The sounds of the kids morphed into an eerie hum and I suddenly found myself being pulled into a tunnel.

            The next thing I knew; I was standing at my mother’s side. I gasped and fell forward onto my hands, trying to collect my bearings. There was a pool of blood around her. Oh god.

            “Melanie?”

            “Mom!” I screamed. She was alive! I went to grab her hand, but my hand passed right through it. I let out a desperate cry.   

            Mom looked at me with her bright green eyes. “How did you get…” she winced, struggling with her words. “One of them did this.” she managed to get out in a whisper.

            “Mom,” I said again, sobbing. “You’re going to be alright. Someone call 911!” I yelled at the people gathering around us. Oddly, no one responded and suddenly someone knelt down next to Mom, but part of their arm passed right through mine.

            What was happening? Was I dead?

            “Melanie,” Mom whispered, and I looked back at her. “Don’t let them know you can see them… I love you…” Her aura had exploded into an array of colors indicating her anger and pain, but also her love for me. It was quickly becoming dimmer. 

            “I love you too,” I responded desperately and tried to hug her, but my arms passed right through her.

            Then suddenly there was a tugging sensation. Something was pulling me in the other direction, and I felt like I was going to be sick.  “Mom, I’m being pulled away!”

            I looked back at her, and I could see that something had changed. Her once bright green eyes were fading. I watched in horror as her aura completely went out. For the first time, I was looking at a person without color around them.

            The realization that she was gone jolted me. Suddenly I felt like I was being sucked through a tunnel. With a gasp, I found myself looking into Michelle’s stunned face.

            I was back on the bus.

            Michelle’s hazel eyes were wide. “Melanie how…” she gulped and let out a shaky breath. “Your Mom?”

            Anguish spread through me. “She’s dead.”

            The memory was almost as unbearable as the experience. Almost. I wiped another tear from my eye and then I focused my attention on the man with the red aura.

            He seemed to notice my gaze and he looked straight at me, his face impossible to read. The red aura around him grew, almost indicating that he was angry at me.

            “Dad, I’ll be right back,” I whispered to my father, and I moved towards the dark haired man. He saw me and he stood very still as I neared. He had piercing green eyes, just like my mother’s.

            “You are Melanie, right?” He asked slowly. I nodded and he seemed to smirk a little. “We are distant relatives, you and I.”

            “Really?” I was intrigued. “Are you a second cousin or something?”

            He laughed a little. “More like an eighth cousin or so. I meant it when I said distant.” Then he peered at me curiously. “But why have you come over here?”

            This was the opening I needed, but I hesitated, unsure of how to word my thoughts. “You seem angry. I believe that what happened to my mom was no accident. Do you agree?”

            The man frowned thoughtfully. “You couldn’t be more right. But even so, those are dangerous words to speak. You would be best to accept this as an accident”.

            Hah! Like I was going to just blindly agree after he had hung that nugget in front of me. “Yeah, that’s unlikely. Tell me what you know.” I tried to say that last phrase in the most serious voice I could muster.

            The man pursed his lips. “It was a mistake to come here.” His aura deepened into blue and green, showing his frustration. He took a few large steps backwards and held up his hand. An eerie red smoke began to swirl next to him. Suddenly my worst nightmare took form in front of me. 

            I gasped and flung my hand over my mouth, staring wide-eyed at the creature that had appeared. It was fiery red and probably 9 feet tall, though it was not standing. The legs were made of a swirling red wind, but the chest, arms, neck and head were humanoid. The arms were long, muscled, and had gold bands on the wrists. The fingers had claw like nails, and the ears, chin and nose were sharp. The eyes of the creature were the most human thing about it, and they were simply grey.

            Then those eyes met mine.

            My heart sank to my knees as I realized my awful mistake. My mom had warned me with her dying breath not to look at these creatures. But how could I not look at something so terrifying?

            When I was 5 I had seen one of these creatures for the first time. My Mom could see them too, and she had stopped me before I started pointing and crying. “Honey,” she said, “this is important. That creature cannot hurt you unless you look at it. You can never look directly at the creature, or it will know you can see it. If it knows you can see it, then it can hurt you.”

            The words haunted me now and I quickly looked away. But from the corner of my eye, I saw the man and the creature looking at me. The man gave me a strange smirk and then muttered something under his breath. In the next instance, both of them were gone.  

            I gasped and looked around at the people who must have seen them disappear. Even if they could not see the horrifying creature, they had to have seen a person at the funeral just vanish.

            To my surprise, no one was looking my way or seemed at all concerned by what had happened. My dad did look up at me after a moment, and he waved me over. It was time to put the dirt onto the casket.

            I was used to shrugging off strange occurrences and moving forward with my life. Dad knew nothing of my ability to see auras or about those strange creatures. He had no idea that the creatures had been responsible for Mom’s death. The black aura around the guy in the silver car was no coincidence. The man in the car must have been controlled by one of those horrifying, fiery red, pointy demons.

            With my mother’s death came the realization that there was no one left I could confide in. She was adamant that Dad was never to know about our abilities and about the creatures for his own safety. I didn’t want to disobey her.

            I moved towards Dad and said nothing about what had just happened with the man and the creature. Deflated of all energy, I picked up the shovel and scooped a small amount of dirt on it. I dropped it onto the casket and whispered, “Good bye Mom.”

            The rest of the funeral passed slowly and I wanted nothing more than to crawl under my covers at home and wake up to find that this had all been a dream. If nothing else, sleep could be a welcome escape into dreamland for just a little while. 

            Once the funeral had ended, I told Dad that I needed time alone. I wondered off into the cemetery. It was an oddly beautiful October day, and the leaves dying above me were absolutely stunning in their radiant red, orange and yellow colors. A deep grief overwhelmed me with each passing step. I wished that there could be some way for this pain in the pit of my stomach to go away. It was too much to bear �" I felt like I was being stabbed by a knife.

            “Hey, uh, Melanie,”

            The voice was hoarse and uncertain, and I spun around. Next to me stood a boy about my age with dark brown hair and light blue eyes. He had thick eyebrows and the square jaw to indicate that he had already gone through puberty. He may have been closer to 13 or 14 perhaps.

            “Who are you?” My question came out more abruptly than I had intended.

            “My name is Devan,” he answered somewhat hesitantly. “I’m here to help.”

            “With what?” I asked tartly, not in the mood to be patient or sociable.

            “I just want to say that I am very sorry about your mother. I didn’t know her well, but I could tell that she was a good person.”

            That statement brought the tears back to my eyes. “Thank you,” I said softly, meeting his blue eyed gaze. “I appreciate that. And she was a good person.” I wiped the tears with my black sleeve, and all I could see around me was a blur of cemetery stones and leaves. I let out a shaky breath, feeling the knife in my stomach turn.

            “It’ll get easier, I promise.”

     I simply nodded but continued to look down. Suddenly, I felt two sturdy arms around me.

            Is this stranger really hugging me?

            I felt angry for a moment, and I wanted to tell him to go away. I hated when people touched me uninvited. Kids on the bus would play with my hair or someone would pat me on the shoulder, and it drove me mad.

            However, as quickly as my anger formed, it dissipated.  A sudden warm, peaceful feeling took over my body. I let out a sigh of relief. Losing my mother was horrible and I would never be the same after this. But that did not mean that life would always be awful. Somehow I knew that there were good times ahead.

    I forgot that the boy’s arms were around me until they no longer were. He smiled lightly at my dazed look, and I could see a warm yellow color seeping into his blue aura. “I thought that might help. Take care of yourself, Melanie.”

             He moved away swiftly. Before I thought to look after him and ask him how he knew my name, he was gone.

             “Devan,” I whispered, shaking my head. That was one of the oddest boys I had ever met. But who was I to talk? I was quite the weirdo myself.

              And he was right. That hug had helped. Somehow.



© 2016 Leigh


Author's Note

Leigh
I have been struggling to get this prologue "right". Please let me know your thoughts on whether you "feel" her sadness and how I can do more "showing vs. telling". Thank you!

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Added on December 24, 2016
Last Updated on December 24, 2016
Tags: Prologue, Entrapment


Author

Leigh
Leigh

Columbus, OH



About
I have always wanted to write and finish a novel. I am 28 years old and I started the initial idea of this story when I was 14 years old. I wrote many versions of it, but then 10 years passed and I th.. more..

Writing
Entrapment Entrapment

A Book by Leigh