Violet Fire

“Juliet, dinner’s ready,” Mom said through my door.

I jerked upright and stared at the little puddle of drool on my desk for a couple of minutes. I had fallen asleep while working on my homework. But oh no, that’s not all! I managed to ruin my hard work by drooling all over it. I got up and stumbled a little on my way to the kitchen.

“Are you okay sweetie?” Dad asked as he sat at the head of our little table.

“Yeah, I just fell asleep,” I said with a yawn.

Mom glanced at me, probably thinking that I was mad at her. But seeing me bleary-eyed and with my hair a mess probably reassured her. Mom set out the boxes of Chinese on the table – she’s not much of a cook – and my parents chatted while we ate. I didn’t say much, but I kept glancing at Mom. I could tell she was still worried. Was it because I mentioned L.A?

I can’t count how many times I’ve wondered what had happened to make her fear that city so much. All I know is that it happened when I was a baby and that it was enough to make her move her office closer to home. I shook away my musings when Dad asked me a question and didn’t think about it the rest of the evening.

That night I had the dream again. The same dream that left me trembling in a cold sweat.

I was running down a dark hallway, my heart pounding. I could see her ahead of me, her dark curly hair blowing in the icy breeze. She turned, and I stopped. It was like looking into the future, seeing my face twenty years older. A man joined her, wrapped his arms around her waist lovingly. They couldn’t see it, couldn’t see the shady figure behind them. I screamed, but no sound came out. Then everything was in flames.

I could hear them screaming, but I couldn’t move, couldn’t think. When the flames faded, they were gone and the figure was striding toward me. It was a woman wearing a dark cloak and an evil smile. I could see my reflection in the mirror behind her as she stopped in front of me. Her eyes glittered, and she put a finger to her lips conspiratorially. The mirror shattered, taking the dream with it.

I woke with a start, sounds of shattering glass echoing in my head. Part of the dream always remained seared into my memory afterward, leaving me shaky. The woman’s eyes were the exact same as mine.

I glanced over at the clock on my bedside and groaned softly. It was only six on a Saturday morning, and there was no going back to sleep now.

I rolled out of bed and dressed quietly. I managed to scrape my hair into a ponytail before grabbing shoes and my iPod. I tiptoed through the house and sat on the front porch to put on my shoes. I turned on my music and started down the sidewalk at a brisk walk. It was the beginning of June, the summer weather already starting to set in. The sky was overcast and I could feel the gathering warmth.

I let the music wash over me as I worked up to a run, let it drown out the remnants of my dream. I loved that time of day, before everyone was out and the sun became scorching. It was as quiet and peaceful as it ever got, and it helped to clear my head. I waved to Mr. Smith as I passed by his house, then started back towards home.

By the time I stopped at the last light coming home, I was relaxed but tired. I glanced over at my high school while waiting for the light to turn and noticed that the weekly car wash had already started. I also noticed that the hairs on the back of my neck were prickling. I looked behind me out of the corner of my eye and saw a guy in a dark hoodie standing a few feet behind me. I shook the sensation away and crossed the street. He crossed too.

I walked briskly to keep as much distance between myself and the strange guy, sneaking little glances behind me. I turned into my neighborhood and he hesitated. But then he turned too. It took all of my willpower not to sprint back home, but I managed. I stood with my back against the door for a moment while I waited for my heart to stop pounding.

“Good morning!” Mom called cheerily from the kitchen, nearly making me jump.

The smell of bacon and cinnamon rolls had a small calming effect on me. I forced a smile, seeing that Mom was scrambling eggs. The fact that she was actually cooking proved that she felt guilty about last night. I mumbled something about needing a shower and headed to my bathroom.

The cascade of hot water couldn’t relax the tension in my muscles. My mind kept tumbling over the guy I had seen. Maybe it’s just a coincidence, I thought. Maybe he lives here. I tried to latch onto that thought, but it ran between my fingers before I could grasp it. No, it wasn’t a coincidence.

He had come here because of me.

The only question was, why?

I tried to finish what homework I had left, quickly giving up. I couldn’t focus, which wasn’t like me at all. Why couldn’t I concentrate? Because some creep tried to follow you home, the snarky voice in my head responded. I sighed and glanced at my bookshelf, thinking that I could try reading. I wandered over to peruse my books, absently picking up the journal. My hands ran over the cover, always going back to probe the lump in the spine. I swapped it for a familiar book, opening the cover with stubborn determination.

I was bored within a few pages, so I tossed it aside in mild frustration. My thoughts spun around and around until I was dizzy. The dream, the creeper, my agitation, and back again. I pushed myself off of my bed, grabbing pencil and paper. I had never been very good at drawing, but knowing my dream so well, I gave it a shot.

The woman who looked like me was easy, although drawing a face I knew so well was strange. It was even stranger to add little smile lines around the eyes. The man was harder, not having a reference for him. As I drew, the sense that I should know him grew stronger. I set down the paper that I had drawn them on and looked at it for a long time. Who are you? I wrote absently.

Unable to study it any longer, I moved to the last person from my dream. She was the hardest, as she was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. She was near perfection, excepting the coldness in her eyes. The eyes that were just like mine. Shivering slightly, I laid the drawings next to each other.

A knock on the bedroom door interrupted my thoughts. Without waiting for a “come in,” Mom opened the door. Her mouth was ajar, ready to say something, but she stopped to stare at my drawings.

“What are those?” she asked softly.

“My drawings,” I replied, stopping myself before mentioning my dream. I couldn’t tell her about it, and I wasn’t sure why.

With a little effort, she smiled. “Those are very good.”

“Thank you,” I said carefully. “Did you need something?”

She shook her head slightly. “I forgot. Don’t worry about it.”

What was that all about? I could only wonder.

I continued drawing parts of my dream, and it seemed to help. I remembered more of it every time I drew, until almost the entire thing was on paper. It helped keep my mind off of the creepy stalker guy. He kept his distance, but it didn’t stop me from keeping pepper spray in my purse. At least at school I didn’t see him as much, but school was almost over.

I visited Grandma more as time went on, trying to figure out why the journal was so important. But she was no help at all. We would chat for a few minutes before I could make my escape. Grandma is a sweet old lady, but the visits hadn’t improved our relationship much. It was like visiting a stranger, and we were still strangers at the end of the visit.

At home, I would pick up the journal and stroke the spine absently. I drew all of the time, mostly imagining what could be hiding in the spine of the journal. My friends noticed my distraction.

“What’s up?” Emma sat across from me at the lunch table.

I rubbed my eyes tiredly. “I haven’t been sleeping well,” I mumbled.

“You look like you need something to do,” she replied, chewing her banana thoughtfully. “We’re all going to the movies tonight; do you want to come?”

I considered for a moment before saying, “That sounds like fun.” Maybe getting out of the house would be good for me.

Emma picked me up later and we headed to the theater. The change of scene was nice, and for a while, I was able to forget about my dream. We saw a super hero movie, spending most of the time commenting on how hot the actor was. I was in a great mood leaving the theater. We walked toward Emma’s car, and that’s when I saw him.

He was in a small alley between two shops, leaning against the wall casually. His hoodie was nondescript, but I would recognize him anywhere. He stared back at me steadily, his green eyes nearly luminous in the dark. As I watched, another figure in a dark hoodie joined him. Goosebumps shivered down my arms. He smiled at me slowly, as if sensing my fear.

“What are you looking at?” Emma asked.

I turned to Emma, not sure how to answer her. I looked back toward the alley; the hoodies were gone.

“Nothing,” I lied quietly. I forced a smile, putting my back to the alley. “What are we waiting for?”

Emma looked at me skeptically, but didn’t push it. My smile faded as I tried to ignore my pounding heart.