I would like to say that I never though I would mix being a DL with being a writer. I’ve been out of practice for ages however, and this has been floating in my head for a couple days. Penning chapter I soon.
Hope you enjoy the Prologue, mine are usually short.
[size=12px]Alan Davis woke up to the usual sound of his mother’s voice, shouting at him from down the steps. At the age of sixteen he was acknowledge by his friends as a walking contradiction. Alan Davis was a geek but not a wimp, not a man but not a boy, He could recite every event from the rise of Rome to the fall of the Soviet Union. He liked to help, but not put himself at risk, he loved to read but hated English, he was serious, but funny, and unique, but forgettable by all who he was not friends with.
Sighing, Alan ran a hand through his oily dark-brown hair while swinging his feet over the edge of his bed. He had always hated Mondays, Alan never slept on the weekends. As he wiped the crust from his eyes his mother’s voice boomed up the stairs once more. “Alan!” He gave a loud grunt in reply as he stood. Adding “Christ” under his breath, his mother could be so impatient sometimes. Alan then began his morning ritual of taking a quick shower, relieving himself, and getting dressed for High School. It was mid-November and already snowing in Pennsylvania.
As he finished Alan took one final look around his room before he went downstairs. It wasn’t very large, but was able to fit his computer desk, his book shelf, a pile of cloths, his bed, finally his dresser and TV. The dresser sat in the corner nearest to the stairs. There was no upstairs hallway, just his room. The TV sat in the middle of the room on an old nightstand, facing his bed, which sat in the corner directly opposite, by the only window. A couple feet in front of the bed sat the computer desk facing a third corner of the room. In the final corner sat a pile of junk and cloths. Alan was constantly yelled at for his dirty room. That, and he rarely cleaned it when told.
When Alan confirmed that he had everything he needed for the day he made his way downstairs. As usual he found that he still had over forty minutes till the bus arrived. After ten years of this he stopped questioning why his mother woke him up so early. His mother was on the couch, as she was every morning. Amber Davis was even more odd than he son at times. At the age of thirty nine she had experienced many things people never will in their life. She had made an unsuccessful album at one point, met a couple celebrities, had been to the hospital multiple times. Survived a tornado and a car wreck. On top of being a punk rock junkie when she was a teenager she had quite a few stories to tell. Right now though, her frequently died hair was red, she was working as a secretary, and was getting just enough money to keep them from being homeless. The typical single parent family.
“We have cereal, or you can make a bagel.” Every morning she tried to get her son to eat something, first thing. Almost every morning he refused.
“Okay.” Short simple, Alan’s usual morning reply. It didn’t require a lot of thinking, and he wasn’t bound to it like a yes or no. This morning though he was hungry. He poured some cereal into a bowl with milk, Mini Wheats, he was the only one he knew who liked the stuff. He was half way done, with the sound of the news in the living room, and his mother in the kitchen making coffee, when he heard it.
“Alan, what the Hell are you doing?!”
At this point many things his Alan very quickly. As he stood he suddenly felt himself doing more than just wetting is pants. In the shock and confusion he didn’t even have time to think of why, or how. Just that it was. Next, as he looked at his mother she had replaced the empty mug of coffee with a bag of Pampers and was advancing towards him, with an almost wicked look on her face.
“I’ve been waiting for this day for a long, long time Alan.” Yet, it was the next words that shocked him more, with both the volume, and suddenness. “Alan, I said wake up!”
Alan’s eyes snapped open as the words registered. His heart was pounding in his chest as he looked wildly around the room. A dream, oh thank god. I’ve never wished something was just a nightmare more in my life. he though to himself as he started to get out of bed. Already he had forgotten what it was about. Alan quickly answered his mom before she shouted again before quickly going through his morning routine. All the while trying to remember what it was about. Even as he poured the very same bowel of cereal, at the very same time he could not remember. At 7:10 he gave up as the bus arrived outside his house. He gave his usual goodbye’s to his mom as he stepped out the door. Out the door and into another day of Hell as he called it.
Of course, Alan would find out just find a much, much more real hell very soon. If he had by chance grabbed the exact same pair of pants, and the exact same underwear as in his dream Alan would have noticed the very tell-tale stains of someone who had heavily soiled them. All of this would come together later though. With Alan completely oblivious to the hands of fate changing for him. For unknown to him there were two people in his house watching him leave. If he had looked towards the upstairs window he would have seen the shadow of a man eying him intently, before slumping over, and vanishing.[/size]