1

I unexpectedly bolt straight up completely conscious and alert at my cellphone chiming from a text message. The noise startles me I nearly drop out of my bed. Wait...how did I get into bed? It's like I went to bed like any other night. How did I even get back home? Was the previous evening all a fantasy?! Not a chance, it could never have been. I remove my sheets and look down at my garments, I'm wearing my nightshirt. Perhaps it was a fantasy, however it appeared to be so genuine. I absolutely recall being out the previous evening and heading back home. Ugh, I scratch my head. This is confounding. Maybe I need to stop going out so late at night.

I reach for my cell on my end table to see who messaged me. It's from my landlord, and work boss.

"Ambria, where are you hun?"

My eyes shift to the clock....

Ahhh! It's two PM. In addition to the fact that I missed all my morning classes, I'm late for work too. How could I sleep in this much?!

Following thirty minutes of rapidly tidying up to tame my wavy fluff of hair, and tossing garments on, I'm running down the steps to the little book shop on the first floor. I spot Miss Rose, an old lady in her late 60's behind the counter looking something up on the laptop close to the register.

"Bria," she says without gazing upward from the screen. "I have a package arriving shortly, it's new books for the store. Would you be so kind as to receive it, dear? I need to go out for a bit to take care of something important."

"Of course," I answer. "Sorry for being late."

"No problem," Miss Rose says while reaching for her bag behind the counter. "The store hasn't been extremely occupied today." She sets out toward the entryway. "I'll be back soon."

I peer around at all the shelves fixed with books, it's exceptionally quiet right now as there are no customers at the moment and no music is playing over the stores speakers. Perhaps I ought to invest energy cleaning up any dirt and dust lying around.

As I stroll around I see that the shelves and books are really perfectly spotless as of now. The store is thickly stuffed with books that occasionally it can get a bit claustrophobic. Following half a month of working here I became acclimated to it however, and presently I love working here. 

I take in a weighty inhale that would no doubt fill my nose with dust in the event that the store wasn't spotless. The front entryway jingles as I'm taking my third breathe. Might be the delivery Miss Rose was anticipating.

As I circle around a shelf I see the behind of a person wearing a long slim dark coat that embraces his slender frame hovering close to the sales register. He turns and gazes straight toward me with eyes that look as though they could peruse my spirit. He looks over me strongly as though he's passing judgment on me here and there. He looks recognizable, and he's additionally the most flawless person I've at any point looked at.

"I'm searching for a book," he unexpectedly says waking up me from my gazing. His voice is shockingly deeper and more profound than I naturally suspected it would be. His elements are sharp and impeccably calculated. His eyes are half hidden behind bangs look as though he could have some Asian in him, similar to me. His attire and looks scream gothic K-pop star. I like it. "High level Yoga."

"A yoga book, huh?" He doesn't seem like somebody who'd be into Yoga.

"It's for my sister," he says. "She's into that stuff." He mutters something ambiguously under his inhale that I can't exactly make out.

"The wellness books are on a shelf at the rear of the store. I can show you if you'd like."

"No," he says rapidly. "I'm sure I can find them on my own." He speeds past me and vanishes into the Thickness of the bookshelves. My hair ruffles from a breeze from how quick he moved. What an odd person, he seemed uncomfortable conversing with me. 

A couple of moments later he rises out of the labyrinth of books with two in his grasp. He puts them on the counter. One is the yoga book he requested, the other a piano book of printed music for various melodies.

"You play the piano?" I ask, wondering for no specific reason as I ring him up.

He shrugs, "a tad."

He doesn't say another word, yet oddly enough I think that he is captivating. I need to understand what drives him to dress in the manner in which he does. I like individuals who have a unique sense of style. One reason why I dress in the manner in which I do. I must have all my garments hand crafted or ordered from online shops since my current style is cute but feminine Korean fashion.

When I finish ringing him up, he pays with cash. No card, so I can't figure out what his name is without asking out right. All the negative outcomes flash through my mind as I can't help thinking about how he would respond on the off chance that I did.

He says thank you and leaves. I have a desire to pursue him, however I can't leave the store unattended, and just as he leaves the delivery person with the books appears. He would presumably find me unusual in any case for doing as such. I hope to see him again sometime.

After four hours I'm finished with work and in need of a breather and something sweet. I choose to stroll to the coffee shop down the road. It's my #1 in the area, the owner likes Parisian stuff, so the whole cafe was themed after the nation and deal a wide assortment of themed desserts and cakes.

The cafe is strangely not occupied, only a little modest bunch of customers staring down at either their phones or laptops. I request my typical marshmallow hot cocoa made with almond milk, and vegan vanilla scone prior to sitting down close to the fireplace to keep warm. It's freezing outside as it's the middle of January.

As I take a taste of my coco I contemplate over the events that happened the prior evening. I most certainly remember heading back home from studying at my college's library, being followed, then at some point, I was assaulted. The hands of my assailant...they developed into long sharp blades....wait....What? How can that be?! I rub my temples. My hands! I scraped them on the rubble from the ground. I gaze at my palms, there's not a solitary scratch on them. Weird, I vaguely recall the stinging pain that shot through them. Then, at that point, he appeared, the person with the purple eyes. Now that I think about it, he very closely resembles the person in the book shop prior. I'm certain of it, however his eyes weren't purple like last night.

I recover my note pad from my bag and start to jot down notes from the previous evening.

I make note of, how did I return home? Did that person take me? Assuming this is the case, how could he have known where I live? Did he change my clothes as well?! I recline in my seat in the wake of taking the last sip of my beverage. I sigh, all I wanted was a typical school semester with nothing insane occurring.

"Hi," a voice out of nowhere says. It's light, melodic and delicate. My gaze shifts upward and lands on a tall slim long platinum blonde haired lady hovering above me. Her outfit is all white, fresh and clean like it had recently been laundered and pressed. She doesn't look much older than I am, yet something about her appears as though she's more mature for her age. "You're Ambria."

It's not a question, more like a proclamation she believes me to agree with. Her lips transform into a delicate smile and she lightly chuckles to herself when I don't answer immediately.

"People usually just call me Bria." I say. "Can I help you with something? How did you know my name?"

"You met with one of my brothers recently," she says disregarding my inquiry. "Did he say anything peculiar to you? Do you recollect anything about the previous evening?"

I'm sure I look confused to her and worried as I respond. "Your sibling?" I press my note pad against my chest to conceal my notes from her. "Last night....?"

Her eyes narrow, however before she can say anything a man who seems to be about as old as her wearing easygoing garments approaches and takes a hold of her arm. He gives her a look that I can't exactly fathom, however she seems to comprehend what it implies.

"Disregard I said anything," she says to me before the two retreat from the cafe.

"What was that about?

Twenty minutes go by as I munch down on my vanilla scone while sitting lost in my own thoughts. I glance at my watch, I should probably head home. I have a paper due later this week.

I get up and accumulate my things, today felt like it went by genuinely quick. Must be because I slept until two in the afternoon when I regularly get up at seven am since my first class is at nine since it takes me around thirty minutes to walk to my college's campus. I could ride the bus, but I wouldn't get any exercise doing that.

As I step out into the chilly night air, the hairs on the rear of my neck stand up and I get the inclination like I am being watched. I brush it off, it's probably just my creative mind pulling pranks on me.

I begin a steady stride towards the book shop, however I pick up my momentum as the sensation of being watched heightens. The road's vacant, there are no cars or pedestrians strolling around. I hear the sound of someone's footsteps, yet every time I pivot to look, there's nobody there. My brain must be pulling pranks on me.

I progress forward at an energetic speed when unexpectedly the leaves on the side of the road swivel into the air leaving me speechless. They spin in the breeze, however there is no wind. My eyes shift from left to right in a frenzy. I am definitely creeped out right now.

I hear a clamor behind me, as I turn I see a set of long sharp fingers lurching straight for my throat. Before they pierce my skin the person from the book shop earlier appears out of the blue. He drives the hooded figure away from me pushing him almost twenty feet away. My hand flies up to my open mouth in shock. What is he, some super human?

I attempt to move my feet and make a beeline for my escape, however somebody snatches my arm obstructing the process. It's a lady with a serious measure of curly hair tumbling to her waste outlining her slender yet curvaceous body. She's dressed like a hot Bollywood boho chick in various varieties. The site of her uncovered henna inked softly tanned stomach makes me think about how she isn't freezing out here.

Her eyes gaze eagerly into mine and I feel as though my thoughts are getting all jumbled up. I feel as if the recent events are starting to fade away into a hazy mist. Her gaze intesifies, her unblinking eyes catching me into an improvised staring contest.

"Aireyel, stop," the man from the cafe appears by her side all of a sudden. He twirls this Aireyel individual around taking us out of eye to eye connection. 'We want her to remember."

"And that would be my cue," the other guy from the bookshop appears by my side catching me in his arms. Before I can say anything his eyes meet mine and everything goes blank.