Chapter One: Meet Neil/The Dream

You're introduced to our less than content protagonist, and something impossible seems to happen!

Neil awoke to the abrasive cries of his alarm mixed with the shouting of his mother. While he lied there, he sluggishly opened his eyes as much as he could at this early in the morning and tried to process the words that were shouted at him. The floorboards thumped as his mom walked up and down the hallway outside of his room making it sound like stomping, but that’s just how it was. Looking over to the digital alarm clock set for 5:30am he noticed with blurry, crusty vision that the time was now several minutes past 6am. The alarm continued to wail as he sat up, pushing against the surface of the bed. The thumps went by again, past the cracked-open door. “You slept through your alarm again, you’re going to be late,” she said sternly. Neil, by that time, was across the room and had hit the snooze button, turned around and plopped himself back in bed, rubbing the crust from his eyes and staring at his ceiling. This was a typical start to his day, just more of the same. He was short and slightly overweight; he ran his fingers though his greasy, messy hair and parted it, so it framed his squareish face; a few strands covered his hazel-green eyes. He grabbed his long black trench coat from the rack by the front door and put it on over his tee shirt and jeans. He is seventeen; he could easily be mistaken for someone younger based on his mannerisms and physical characteristics.

Reaching his boot out onto the wet porch, he continued stuffing the cold slice of pizza in his mouth, thinking about how his mom yet again criticized him for his breakfast selection. The compact umbrella around his wrist tugged at him from behind the secondary glass door, and as he fixed his situation he desperately tried not to think of whether or not the others across the street at the school bus stop could see what happened. Neil turned around to see one of them jogging up his driveway in the rain and walked up to the porch stairs, looking at him.

“Hey, uhh do you mind if I borrow your umbrella? I forgot to bring mine.” Neil knew him a little bit and they had hung out together before. Sure, the guy was a bit stinky and made every surface he sat on smell like feces, but he was one of the only people nice enough to reach out and try to be friends with Neil, even if he didn’t come around often. Neil opened up the umbrella, reached down and handed it to him. He felt good as he watched him walk across the street to the intersection street sign where the others stood. He didn’t mind the rain so-

Weird, why did he hand it off to one of the guys that are always messing with me? Neil processed the feeling of shock, anger and betrayal all at once when he saw the umbrella stomped on and stuffed into the gutter. Then they all laughed. They all laughed. This wasn’t the first time it had happened, but it seemed like every time he met someone who genuinely liked him, that he was waiting for the truth to be revealed. Neil ran down the stairs and through his driveway; he didn’t know who he would thrash when he got there but he knew that was his intent. Just as he reached the end of his driveway, the school bus pulled up. “S**t,” he said under his breath, as he struggled to catch it.

###

At lunch, Neil targets the table with the least amount of people around it and sits down. He was pissed off and just wanted to focus on drawing to make the day go by faster. He heard footsteps approach and the bench lean slightly from someone sitting down.

“Hey, kid why are you always sitting alone?” Neil wasn’t sure if he knew this guy or not, he was bad with recognizing faces and he didn’t exactly go out of his way to memorize who everyone he met was.

Neil says without looking up, “I don’t know anyone.”

“Well, maybe if you weren’t such a weirdo, people would sit with you. I mean, aren’t you the kid that wore a T-rex puppet on your hand all day and pretended it was real?” He did remember, and remembered it being fun despite what people might have thought of him.

“Please go away or I swear I’m gonna stab you.” Neil could feel the heat rise through his face and rationality stepped aside to anger.

“Oh yeah, you think you have the balls?” He placed his hand closer to Neil and this flipped a switch inside him. The pencil slammed into the stranger’s hand, breaking the tip in the process. “What the f**k!” The bully yelled. “You’re f*****g crazy!” Neil felt somehow proud and ashamed at the same time, that is until he saw the Vice Principal looking right at him from the lunchroom entrance.

            Neil sat in the vice principal’s office, staring past the lecturing man, daydreaming of a world where he could be himself and not be mocked or assaulted for being weird, but was interfered by his anger-driven thoughts. The least they could do is tell him what he’s doing wrong, but no it’s always “you’re weird, you’re crazy, you’re lame, you like [insert franchise].” So descriptive. Why was he always the butt of the joke? Why was he always the easy target? He just wanted to be left alone by everyone who didn’t like him but he was like some kind of bully magnet. The bell finally rang and brought him back to his senses. “Go right to ISS for the rest of the day and you’re suspended out of school tomorrow.” Neil got up and opened the door. “Neil, it’s nearing the end of the school year, just hold out a bit longer and you’ll have all summer to yourself. Next year will be much better, trust me.” He didn’t turn around or say anything, he couldn’t understand that this wasn’t just a school problem, it was perpetual.

###

As Neil stepped off the school bus, he was looking forward to getting into the house only to punch some holes in the wall. He had been racking his brain to find the cause of the problem, but as far as he could figure, everyone else was an a*****e that enjoyed the emotional suffering of others as a pastime. It was at this time he realized that any time someone intentionally triggered his anger, they would always let Neil strike first before beating him to a pulp or simply laughing at him. “Oh, my god, I’m so stupid. This is why they get off scott-free and I get suspended!” Neil digs deeper into more painful memories as he walks across the street; he wondered if any the guys who still have their father are as weak as he was. It was bad enough that he would have those reoccurring dreams; sometimes he’s underwater struggling against something and trying to escape to breathe, sometimes he’s in the middle of a violent tornado that is slaughtering hundreds of people. The visions seemed vague, yet so vivid; he could feel the lack of oxygen and the grief of taking life. The only thing the dreams had in common was the immense pain he continually felt. The pulsing spasms that increased in intensity all over his body became so unbearable that it prompted him to wake up in a cold sweat, exhausted from enduring the experience. Why was simply existing so painful and hard? The frustration only swelled and fueled his anger further.

At this moment, Neil attempts to analyze these visions as infuriating thoughts flash through his mind. His eyes well up with tears because he’s so enraged. He suddenly stops at the end of his driveway, feeling his heart pound wildly in his chest. Looking down to the ground, he clenches his fists tight. “If I had claws, I’d puncture my own skin,” he thought. Neil clenches his teeth so hard, his cavities hurt, only infuriating him further. More pain. Just from existing, from feeling. He felt, or maybe secretly hoped that if he clenched his teeth hard enough that they’d fall out. Tears drop to the ground below his hanging head, but something else drops too, beside the empty wet circles. Blood. His nose began to drip, streaming beside the tears of futile discord. He reached up to touch it (as we all do for some reason) when a sudden pain shot into his hand, unlike any pain he felt before…yet it seemed like a familiar sensation, if anything. He was no longer angry. He was scared, scared for his life. He looked at his hand; it was pulsing rapidly as if it were coming alive…This was no simple spasm, was he dreaming or was this reality? He tried to compose a thought, but the pain was too unbearable; he just couldn't focus. He gripped his head in agony; it was pounding furiously now. They say your body can only efficiently process one pain at a time, resulting in a dulling of pain in another area. That was not true in this case. He felt everything, every pain separately… and he couldn’t stop it. All he could do was bear it. He dropped to his knees and let out a yell, sounding almost inhuman.

Just when the pain became so agonizing that he felt his skin would rip open; it stopped. He looked around, looked at his hand; it was fine. He looked down to the ground where the tears and blood should have been but weren’t. Everything was the same as it was before it started. Even his nose had shown no signs of bleeding, and he was standing, not on his knees. His heart was not pounding, he was not breathing hard, and there were no traces of anything strange. He was far too confused to be upset now. He tried to remember those thoughts he had tried to think before, when it was happening…if it was happening. As he walked though his driveway, he was more confused than ever. He looked up as he walked through; the car wasn’t there (as it usually wasn’t). He let out a long sigh and continued walking up the stairs to the front door with his head down. His mom was out yet again doing who-knows-what. He got out his keys and unlocked the front door. His mom always made him lock it, and if he didn’t, she would freak out as she usually did. He opened the door and walked inside; turned around, and with a dull look in his half-closed eyes, locked it.

He took off his boots by the door, climbed up the stairs of five, and looked where he would greet his pet if he had one. The house (which was the upper half of a two-story apartment) gave more than enough room for both Neil and his mother without being too big. The living room took up most of the house being wide and gaping, almost empty. This was the first room to be entered as soon as the small set of five stairs was climbed. To the left, there was one bathroom, connected to his mother’s room by a door. His room was across from hers, and at the end of the hall was the back room, who’s function seemed to change occasionally. Game room, spare bedroom, workout room, computer room, storage room, this room had been it all. The kitchen was always clean, and if it wasn’t, it would be cleaned until it was spotless. There was no table in there (the dining room next to it had a full dinette set and china cabinet), and the sliding glass door led to the outside deck which overlooked patches of brown and green, a big difference from the overgrown jungle that it was when they first moved there.

The landlord lived downstairs and did not interact with them much, mostly to gather rent or to borrow a cup of sugar, something of that sort. Seldom did he complain; he really had no reason to. Neil never understood the concept of “borrowing” sugar, though. Of all the times that anyone did so, none was ever returned. Neil once was going to return some sugar to the landlord as a joke, but the stern look on his mother’s face suggested otherwise. It seemed no one would let him be who he was without some sort of punishment. Now, with the same glazed look in his eyes, he walked through the kitchen and opened up a can of potato sticks. He then sat down on the couch, watched TV, and fell asleep.

###

He awoke to the voice of his mother ranting to herself pacing in front of the couch. He decided to keep his eyes closed until she engaged directly. “What the hell are you doing?”

He opened his eyes to see the scowling face looking down on him. “I thought I told you not to sleep on the couch.” She briefly looked to her right, then back down. “And what are you doing sleeping this early anyway? Get off the couch.”

She started to walk away and took her shoes off; as she did, he sat up. “I was tired,” he said looking down, still feeling a bit of pain in his black eye.

“Why are you so tired?” It seemed she was half-suggesting something.

“I don’t know, I just was.”

She eyed the can of potato sticks on the table. “And what did I say about eating in here?! You ignore everything I say!” Her wide eyes locked on to him before storming away to her room; the cobwebs in the upper corners of the hallway caught in her gust.

“I know how you feel.”

He then lied back down and put his arm over his eyes. He knew this wasn’t the worst his mom was, she was nearly ten times worse when she was drunk (and she probably would be later).

She passed him to go down to the door, footsteps still seemingly angry. “I’m going out for a while.”

“Bye,” he said, not lifting his arm or opening his eyes.

The door seemed to slam, but that’s how it was. The decorative glass sun that hung above the door swung slightly as it shook. He fell asleep, but not before letting out a deep sigh.

When he woke up again, it was eleven o’clock or so, but he still felt how he did when he first got home. The house was now dark except for the flashing glow of the muted television. He got up, turned on the light in the kitchen and took some leftovers out of the fridge. “Steak and mashed potatoes,” he said taking the last of it. “Some kids aren’t so lucky.” He then popped it in the microwave and while he waited, he looked on the movie channels for a movie to watch. Just then, the phone rang. Looking at the caller I.D., he could see that it was his mom. He already knew what she was going to tell him.

“Hello?” he answered.

“Hi, it’s me.”

There was a pause. “I’m staying at a friend’s house, I won’t be late.”

He knew she was drunk and wouldn’t even be home when he woke up the next day. “Okay,” he said with a sigh. “Oh,” he furrowed his brow as he recalled the events of his day. “Something weird happened to me today…uh, I think. It was w�"”

She hung up.

With a sigh and that same glazed look, he hung up the phone, unmuted the TV, and got his dinner out of the microwave well before it could beep. He sat down and ate it.

That night he had a dream. A dream he never had before. He was standing all alone in the middle of a big white room, seeming infinite in depth. “Welcome…” a distorted voice echoed, “To your subconscious…” He could barely make out what it was saying, and all he did was circle around confused until he saw a giant monster fighting with…himself! He could feel the battle as if it were him fighting, yet he had an omnipotent view, seeing himself standing in the middle of the room, watching the battle. While staring in awe, it seemed so familiar that he felt he knew all the moves that were dealt before they were even thought of being executed.

As the battle raged on, he saw a huge ball of electricity form between the demon and the Neil he was fighting. The demon made a motion with his arms and the ball exploded creating a blinding flash. Horrible pain from the attack pulsed within his body. He was surprised to find he was feeling pain in a dream, let alone pain that wasn’t directly his own. His dream counterpart flew across the room and fell onto the floor. He was about to rush over to help him when the dream Neil got up with the look of a warrior in his eyes. Glaring at the demon, he yelled, “I will not let you be dominant!” Words so loud and fierce, they seemed to echo through his very mind. To the watching Neil’s surprise, he mouthed those words exactly as the other had said them. A sheathed sword then appeared at dream Neil’s side. He drew it and ran full speed towards the demon. The demon let out a roar as he slashed with claws, just missing Dream Neil before swinging his sword, cutting him in half diagonally. The demon fell to the ground, severed in two pieces. Standing over the slain demon, Neil’s dream counterpart sheathed his sword. “May you carry the scar of defeat.”

Just then, as Dream Neil started to walk away, the demon’s two halves were joining together. He healed nearly perfectly, with nothing but a relatively small scar running diagonally across his chest. He got up, uttered a low growl, and roared at the watching Neil.

He woke up in a cold sweat hyperventilating. “Don’t get too mad,” he said between gasps. By the time he realized he had spoken, he was incredibly confused. He had remembered every detail of the dream. This wasn’t immediately forgotten until the event like his normal de ja vu dreams, he felt sure it had happened before. But how? Where? When? Still with a confused look on his face, he walked into the kitchen and poured himself a glass of water. Taking a sip in between thoughts, he started trying to rationalize what had been happening to him, piecing all the events together. Was he losing his mind? Sip. Was this cryptic foreshadowing? Sip. Was his subconscious preparing him for something? Sip. Was his mind simply sorting out his feelings in a way he could not do consciously? Sip.

By the time his drink was finished, all he could figure out was that all these events were somehow related, he just wasn’t sure how. “The dreams, the pain, now visions…What the hell is happening to me?” He then took the last sip and held the glass over the sink to place it. The grip of his still trembling hand was weak, and the glass fell shattering into several pieces. He let out a gravelly sigh and reached in to pick up the glass, cutting himself in the process. He immediately withdrew his hand and put his finger in his mouth.

“Damn it,” he said, sucking the blood. He took out his finger and examined it.

He was shocked to see he was staring at a clawed finger. Taking a deep breath, he shut his eyes and shook his head, thinking he was still a bit groggy from sleep and hoping that’s why he was having nightmares and hallucinations. That had to be it, his crappy sleep. When he looked back down, his finger was fine. There was still a cut, but it had stopped bleeding. Figuring he would clean it up tomorrow, he put his finger back in his mouth, plopped back down on the couch and fell asleep once again.

###

The next day, he woke up to the sound of a sitcom, meaning he had missed pretty much the whole school day. There had been no word from his mom, not even on the phone. Meaning either she couldn’t wake him up, or she too was oversleeping and had gone to work from her friend’s house. “Didn’t matter anyway,” he thought. “I’m suspended…again.” 

He figured he would take a walk outside down to the shopping center. It was such a nice day out in his suburban town; he happily walked out the door after grabbing his wallet and brand-new CD player (with 60 second anti-skip!). He of course did not forget about what had happened; he simply shook it from his head. He was trying to enjoy himself for once; all this stress seemed to be having negative effects on his sanity. As he started down his driveway and headed in the direction of the shopping center, He pressed play to start the Antichrist Superstar album. Since he knew all the words to the songs, he had to sing along.

Before he was even halfway there, he thought that he felt something whiz past his head. He looked around, but nothing was there. He continued walking until a sharp pain jolted in the back of his head. Rubbing the bump, he bent over and picked up a small rock, too large to call a pebble. He looked around and saw them this time; they were hiding in the bushes. He decided to ignore them and keep walking. It was a rare occasion, but he just didn’t feel like wasting his time and energy on getting mad and beaten up. Besides, there were three of them. He pretended not to see them by looking around some more, shrugging his shoulders and continuing to walk. By then, his favorite song on that album was on, Wormboy. Of course, he sang it. The music was so loud, he couldn’t hear his own singing, and unfortunately for him, he couldn’t hear the rapidly accelerating footsteps behind him either.

The force of three heavy bodies slammed his face to the ground and his earphones were ripped from his head. He struggled but they were just too strong, and the buzzing in his head didn’t help too much either.

“What do you guys want from me?” He yelled from under the three bullies. They gave him no answer, they just laughed as they punched and kicked him.

One grabbed his CD player out from his pocket and held it up to his friends. “Ooh, look! This one’s new!” He lifted it up over his head in both hands, and everything became slow.

Neil thought, “Of all the days to play hooky, why did these guys pick today? I was about to get a hard-earned vacation from this madness…” The CD player left the bullies hands and hurtled to the ground, shattering into twenty pieces, most among them being the CD.  

His eyes shot wide open and turned blood red, but they didn’t see that. They turned around and looked at him as he was staring at the ground, breathing heavily.

“Aww,” the leader said. “Is the widdle baby gonna cwy?” They all laughed as though it were the funniest joke ever told, but they grew silent when Neil got up, lurching over with glowing red eyes and spikes protruding from his shoulders. His clenched teeth were sharp and long. He pointed a clawed finger at them.

“Widdle baby,” he said in a deep demonic voice, “is going to kill you!”

They tried to run away, but Neil, if he was still Neil, let out an inhuman roar that not even the most savage of beasts found on earth could conjure. It seemed to leave a hole in the very air itself, like a glowing passage. His face became wider and leathery; Small horns protruded from his head and curved back as they grew. Raising his now massive arms in clenched fists, He let out another roar as he slammed his fists into the pavement, sending a shockwave of blacktop toward the fleeing bullies, causing them to fly into the rift. The now fully transformed demon leapt inside after them.

They had crossed over. To where, they didn’t know; their minds were frantic, seemingly in a nightmarish world. It seemed dark and mysterious with black swirling clouds above them and streaks of red lightning flashing in the distance. They were only allowed a few seconds to take in their surroundings, as a loud roar grabbed their attention. The demon swung viciously at the boys, but each time he did, they managed to evade. One swipe was so strong that it dug up a great deal of earth with it; each clump landed with a solid, dull thud. The bullies ran behind a boulder to shield themselves, but a giant fist soon crumbled it. As they ran around his back, the demon finally caught one of them in the corner of his eye. He turned around and sharply smacked him, causing him to fly back into the other two. The hole had shrunk significantly during this time, and the humans had noticed this. The three frightened boys bolted toward the passage and jumped back out into their home world. The demon leapt, but the portal then sealed completely, leaving him behind. He let out an earth-shattering roar and dropped to his knees; everything turned black as he collapsed.