Violet Fire

The dream was different this time. I was in a dark stone corridor, facing the woman who had my eyes. She looked me up and down, circling slowly. Her beautiful face was unreadable, her head cocked to one side.

“You are the one with the key? You are just a child. But I suppose I was not much more than a child,” she mused. Even her voice was beautiful. “We shall see.”

Her voice echoed in my head as I sat up. I didn’t bother to check the time; I just grabbed paper and pencil. I tried harder than ever before to try and capture her perfectly on paper. She radiated power and arrogance, but there was an air of sadness to her, as if she had seen great tragedy in her life. The sun rose as I put on the finishing touches, just in time to shut off my alarm. All I wanted was to stare at the woman from my dream, but I had to get ready for the day.

A few minutes later I found Mom sitting at the kitchen table. Usually she was heading out the door by this time, but she was just sitting there. The floor creaked under my feet as I stepped into the kitchen, breaking her reverie. She put on a smile, but there was still something on her mind.

“I thought that I would take you to school today,” she said.

“Are you sure? School is just across the street.”

“It’s fine, I can take you.”

Mom pulled up in front of the school, but I stayed sitting. She looked like she wanted to talk, but didn’t know where to start.

“Mom, what’s wrong?”

She began to speak, then stopped herself. She breathed deeply, looking out the windshield for a long moment before turning to look at me.

“There’s something I need to tell you,” she paused, searching for the right words. The bell rang before she spoke again, but I didn’t move. She put her smile back on. “We’ll talk when you get home.”

I got out of the car and walked slowly toward school, sending glances over my shoulder all the way to the doors. When I looked back the last time, Mom’s car was gone.

I wasn’t much for conversation that day, so Emma let me be. My other friends followed her lead, letting me stew. I wanted to talk to them about it, but I wasn’t sure how. I waved goodbye as I started home, making a concentrated effort to ignore the Hoodies.

At home, I didn’t even bother looking through my homework, knowing that nothing would get done. I flopped down on the couch and turned on the TV. I don’t usually watch the news, but for some reason I did. I flipped to the news just as the commercials ended. The theme song played before the camera cut to the news room, where two serious-looking news anchors sat.

“Good afternoon, I’m Cathy Torero reporting for Channel 4 news,” the woman began. “It is a dark day for the residents of Los Angeles. Today marks the 15th anniversary of Evelyn and Caleb Monroe’s disappearance. Maggie Hart is live in the neighborhood where they were last seen.”

The camera cut to a young reporter standing on a dirty street. The buildings surrounding her were some of the oldest in L.A. and were rundown and dingy.

“Thank you, Cathy,” the reporter said. “Evelyn and Caleb Monroe were both LAPD detectives, but it is unclear whether they were investigating a case when they disappeared.

The couple had taken their three-year-old daughter on a family vacation just one week before, but had apparently returned early. They left their daughter with family members to work on a case, and never returned. No information has been released on the case they were working, and officials have not ruled out foul play. To this day, no bodies have been recovered.

As you can see behind me, many local residents have left candles and heartfelt wishes for the Monroes. Our hearts go out to their family on this tragic day. Back to you Cathy.”

I shut the TV off a few more minutes later. Something about the news story pulled at the back of my mind.

Dad came home as I was walking into the kitchen. I smiled at him as he headed toward the office. I walked over to the fridge and opened it up. I looked at what little we had in it and determined that I could make something out of it. I started pulling out ingredients and then looked up a couple of recipes. It was relaxing, and it was one of the few activities that occupied my mind and hands.

I worked methodically, focusing on what I was doing. Mom came home just as I was starting to make a fruit salad.

“Mm, smells good in here,” she said, smiling.

“Thanks. It’s almost done,” I replied.

“I guess I got home at the perfect time then.”

Mom looked as if she were no longer agitated, which was good. But it left me wondering what she had wanted to tell me. She headed toward my parents’ room and I resumed chopping fruit. Dad came in a minute later and started to set the table. I cut a strawberry and popped half of it into my mouth. I savored its sweet taste and juicy texture. Mom walked in as I popped the other half of the strawberry in my mouth.

“Is that what I think it is?” Dad asked.

I hadn’t noticed that Mom was holding something and grinning. I turned to look at what she was carrying and nearly choked.

“Your mom’s pregnant?” it was the next day at lunch, and probably the fifth time that Jessica had asked that question.

“Haven’t you asked her that enough?” Emma retorted, starting to get annoyed.

Jessica stuck her tongue out at her.

“That must be weird,” Josh said quietly.

“You have no idea,” I mumbled.

I barely remember the rest of that day. Tony came and talked to me between classes, and asked me out again. I gave him some vague excuse of why I couldn’t go and left him looking a bit dejected in the hall. I felt a bit bad as I walked away from Tony, and more than a little surprised at how quickly I had forgotten about him. But thoughts kept bouncing around my mind – first about Mom, then about the Monroes. For some reason the news story seemed important to me, but I hadn’t done any research yet. I clearly remember a pounding headache as I walked toward my bike at the end of the day. But it wasn’t quite over yet, because Emma was waiting for me. I groaned internally before approaching her.

She was leaning casually against my bike, her long blonde hair shining in the sun. If I didn’t know her I would probably assume that she was just enjoying the sunshine. But I did know her, and I knew that soaking up sun was not the reason she just happened to be leaning against my bike.

“Hey, Em,” I said, starting to unlock my bike.

“Hey, Jules,” she replied nonchalantly.

We chatted for a minute, but Emma didn’t beat around the bush for very long.

“What’s bothering you?” she asked.

I looked down as if inspecting my bike.

“What do you mean?” I replied innocently.

I looked up to see the glare Emma was shooting me. I stared back for a moment, considering. I almost told her, right then and there; but as I started to draw breath to spill my guts, that annoying little voice of reason in the back of my mind chimed in.

Oh, nothing Emma, it’s just that I’m being stalked by two guys that only I can see, I’m dreaming about people I’ve never met and I’m seeing things, it said sarcastically.

That last part was true. I kept catching glimpses of things out of the corner of my eyes. Flashes of colored light, shadows flitting around corners, and once I even thought I saw a leprechaun. Even though I was pretty sure I was going crazy, I couldn’t tell Emma that. So instead I said, “I just have a lot on my mind.”

Emma regarded me for an uncomfortable minute, obviously trying to see if I was lying. I could tell that she wasn’t satisfied, but she let it drop. A horn honked a short distance away, and we both turned to see Emma’s mom waiting for her. So Emma and I parted.

As I rode home a knot grew in the pit of my stomach, getting tighter each time I pedaled. When I finally got home I was relieved to find the house empty. I headed into my room and let my backpack drop with a soft thud to the floor. I looked over at my nightstand, and the leather-bound journal sitting on it. I felt as if it was taunting me. This whole thing had started the day I got it, and although I desperately wanted to believe that it was a coincidence, I knew better.

I didn’t touch the journal again for almost a month. There were a couple of instances where I got the urge to feel the lump in the spine, but I ignored it. My life never went back to the way it was before I had gotten the journal, but I mostly ignored the things that had changed. It was getting harder to ignore them, though. I knew that I had two stalkers, and they were getting bolder by the day. I barely left the house after the last day of school.

And then there were the dreams. They were getting darker and more urgent. The beautiful woman was always in them, and sometimes the couple from my first dream. The couple was always in distress, always calling out to me, but I could never reach them. I kept waking up early in the morning and drawing until I heard my parents get up.

The week after school ended, I decided to go for a run. I hadn’t been out by myself, but I needed to run, needed to clear my head. I crept out of the house in the predawn light and started off at a brisk walk. By the time I reached the park, the sun was peeking over the horizon and I was exhilarated. I took a little extra time at the park before turning towards home. As I slowed down, I became very aware of my surroundings.

I hadn’t run with music, so I had my ears pricked for the slightest sound. My heart pounded, but not because of my run. I had to stop at the light, and I could feel my muscles tensing as I silently willed the walk sign to turn green. It took me a minute to realize why I was so wound up. I couldn’t see my stalkers. This thought made me more nervous than knowing that they were right behind me.

The walk sign turned and I started to cross, almost without thinking. I felt something slam into my back, pushing me forward. I turned to look back and where I was standing a second before there was a car making a right turn. The driver flipped me the bird as he went, and I sent him my best glare. I turned back to look at the person who pushed me out of the way and saw my stalkers in front of me.

The one with the green eyes had his hand out to help me up. I ignored it and stood on my own. We crossed quickly and I prepared to bolt for home. Hoodie Number One blocked my way, smiling at me. Those luminous green eyes regarded me coldly from an angular face. He was at least a head taller than me and had sandy hair. I glanced at Hoodie Number Two, but all I could see was a pair of clear blue eyes.

“You should be more careful,” Hoodie Number One said.

“Who are you?” I snapped, not even pretending to be polite.

“We are friends,” he said, smirking.

“I could beg to differ,” I grumbled.

“What, no thanks for saving you?” he asked with mock hurt.

“Thank you,” I replied sourly. “Now leave me alone.”

I made to push past him but he blocked my way. “Leaving so soon?” he asked.

“What do you want from me?” I asked, starting to get angry.

He opened his mouth to reply, but Hoodie Number Two put his hand on Number One’s arm. He said something that I couldn’t hear and they stepped out of my way. Hoodie Number One smirked at me one last time.

“You’ll find out soon.”