Chapter One

Chapter One - The Immortal

"When was the last time I allowed myself to cry?" 

________________________________________

   The lingering disquiet from the dream clung to my consciousness as I tried to shake off the surreal unease. The world, once perceived as timeless, now felt haunted by an eerie sentiment that refused to dissipate. Meeting you, whoever you were, brought a revelation that unfurled within the recesses of my cranium.

   In the dream, an unidentified voice echoed through the corridors of my mind, questioning why I had let them go. At that moment, fear and confusion gripped me, only to be replaced by a haunting prediction - a promise of reunion, followed by an inevitable parting. The voice serenaded with words of enduring love, but their final utterances were lost to me as if the very fabric of the world prevented me from hearing anything beyond those haunting sentiments.

   Awakening from the dream, I found myself drenched in sweat, a palpable lump in my throat betraying the emotional weight of the nocturnal encounter. A soothing voice, that of my mother, penetrated the lingering haze of the dream. 

   "Sweetie, it's time for you to get up,"

    she gently informed me, dispelling the remnants of the dream's grip on my psyche. At that moment, the reality of the day ahead settled in – school awaited, and the echoes of the enigmatic dream lingered like a spectral whisper in the recesses of my mind.

   My mother's worried eyes spoke volumes as if she could sense the lingering residue of the terrible nightmare that had haunted my sleep. Her concern manifested in the gentle inquiry, "Ambrose, would you like waffles or pancakes?" Her words flowed seamlessly, a comforting attempt to draw me back from the shadows of the unsettling dream.

   As she continued, her voice softened, 

"Oh, I know you would like to have some orange juice." 

   I found myself lost in the murmur of her words, a mixture of care and routine, a soothing balm for the disquiet still echoing within me. The weight of her concern and the familiarity of our morning routine provided a reassuring anchor.

   Uncertain of how to articulate the tumult of emotions stirred by the dream, I allowed her words to wash over me. In the quietude of the moment, I silently hoped that the mundane comfort of breakfast and routine would help dispel the haunting echoes of the nocturnal enigma that clung to my thoughts.

   Glancing at the clock, I recognized that the hands were steadily inching towards the time when I should be heading to school. The memory of a previous occasion lingered when my neglect of a meal had spurred her to consider visiting me at school out of concern.

   Recalling that incident, I couldn't ignore the genuine worry engraved across her face. It was a concern that seemed to amplify after the death of her husband, my father. His departure had left a void, and it felt as though her world had crumbled in the aftermath. In the wake of that loss, I sensed a heightened protectiveness, as if I had become the anchor tethering her to this earthly realm.

   Every uneaten meal, every instance of my well-being, appeared to carry an extra layer of significance. Recognizing the fragile connection that bound us together in the aftermath of our shared loss. The echoes of her care resonated in my mind.

   I knew that, but the heavy lump in my throat made it almost impossible to eat, no matter how much my mother insisted. The task of eating the breakfast became daunting.

   "Mother, is it alright if I just eat at school today?" I let the words escape, feeling a weight lift off my shoulders.

   Instantly, I sensed a shift in the air. Her smile, once warm and comforting, seemed to waver for a split second, but she quickly composed herself. She looked at me, and I could feel the unspoken concern in her eyes. There was something she wanted to say, something hovering on the tip of her tongue, but instead, she pursed her lips and uttered a soft, 

   "Sure."

   I managed a small smile, grateful for her understanding, though a tinge of guilt lingered. Rising from my chair, I attempted to hide the unease that still clung to me. As I began to gather my belongings, searching for my backpack, the room held a subdued atmosphere. The routine of our mornings, once a source of solace, now carried an unspoken tension beneath the surface, a fragile balance between my struggles and my mother's unwavering care.

   I stood by the door, anticipating my mother's arrival. Her big red purse was a vibrant accessory, draped casually over the side of her arm. The contrast between her long, flowing blonde hair and my cherry red locks always intrigued me, as I couldn't trace the origin of my unique hair color back to either of my parents, maybe it was just a recessive gene. 

   We shared a similar height, both standing at five-seven. It was a comfort to have this physical resemblance, even though I often felt small amidst the towering figures of my classmates. Regardless, my stature was something I couldn't change, and I learned to embrace it as part of my identity.

   As my mother approached. The distinctive rustle of her red purse and the click of the door formed a backdrop to our shared journey to school. Each step resonated with a silent connection, the echoes of the dream, the haunting voice, and the promises made in the night continued to play in the recesses of my mind. Yet, in the presence of my mother, amidst the routine of our morning, I felt a sense of groundedness. The enigmatic dream may have left its mark, but the warmth of my mother's love and the comforting routine of our morning ritual served as a gentle anchor, guiding me through the uncertainties that lay ahead.

   During the drive to school, my mother's strawberry-scented perfume filled the car. As I glanced out the window at the familiar scenery, I noticed a girl in the woods staring at me from afar. Her gaze seemed otherworldly, almost as if she wasn't alive. My mother's voice interrupted my thoughts, "I've never seen you look so intense before," she inquired, bringing my attention back to the present moment.

   Hesitating before I spoke, I finally let out the words, saying, "I was just thinking about a school project I have to work on," fully aware that I was lying to my sweet mother.

   "Haha, don't worry too much about that. I used to hate school projects before I met my best friend," 

   she laughed. I couldn't help but join in, laughing along with her, even though the truth was I had no friends at school.

   "We arrived. Don't forget to eat lunch; you didn't eat breakfast. I need you to always be healthy,"

    my mother insisted, pinching my cheek. I understood her worry, but I'd never been sick. She even took me to the doctor to check if I was okay because I'd never experienced any health issues before.

   With one final smile directed at my mother, I stepped out of the car. The moment I closed the car door, an unexpected force collided with me, almost causing me to lose my balance. It caught me completely off guard, especially considering I had just mentioned not having any friends.

   Gasping for breath, the person who had run up to me stood there, looking down with a mix of excitement and urgency. 

   "Bestie-best o pal," they panted out, "I need you."