The Initiation

01-05-17

14:56

Garth is dead. He died today. In the early hours of the day. Suicide. A rope to his neck or so I heard. But I'd seen it. A day before. Not his death, no. I'd seen it, Death. Or so it seems. It came as a fog, at first. Then it took the shape of a teenager in black with a wide hat that covered most of his face - if he had one. He had a crow. It perched on his left shoulder. I didn't seem to notice much. It was a blur but I could feel that piercing eyes of his. Frightening and terrifying but familiar. I don't know but I thought so at the moment. I'd seen him turn his gaze from me. For a moment I was scared. He looked like death. He felt like death. He smelt like death. I'd seen him walk up to Garth and drew a mark or a symbol on his forehead. I had stood rooted on the spot and stared. Until he left, then my gaze had shifted to Garth who wasn't the least bit aware. He just walked on. Very much unaware. I knew he was going to die but I just turned and walked away. I could have changed things but could I really? Honestly, I didn't think so.

The bell rang. Sighing lightly, Jerome closed his journal. He stood up from the corner of the hallway where he always was between classes and headed for class. He had History? He wasn't sure. When was the last time he was actually focused in class. Certainly not this year. It was a good thing he hadn't failed most of his courses yet. Surprisingly, he wasn't the geek with the glasses that always gets bullied by the hallway. He wasn't the nerdy boy with the perfect grades. He was more like the loner no one knows exists. The one with average grades that lives in a trailer. The one with no friends save for a journal.

He could hear the chatters and giggles of the other students as they drifted out of school. Jerome felt alone. He was alone. He left school grounds and headed to the woods. He loved taking this path. It was quiet and scary. Ever since that weird first encounter with the man - who looked like Death. He had become more withdrawn. More solitary. Not that it made much difference.

He walked through the woods. The place was eerily quiet save for the chirping of birds. The ambience was solemn. He could sometimes hear the cawing of a crow. One which he couldn't see yet felt so close to. A notification on his phone disrupted the mood. He picked up his phone and browsed through it. He shook his head. It was a blurred photo of a nude girl. This wasn't new. The scandal. It happened frequently. Jerome took a glance at it and shoved it back into his pocket. The girl might be popular but he hardly knew her. It was none of his concern. He walked through the woods. The place so serene he felt calm. Taking a stop by a tree. He breathed deeply. He felt relaxed. He sat near the tree. His back leaning on it. He could feel the bark of the tree against his skin.

17:03

I'm out of school. I'm in the woods. I feel weird. The sky is hazy or my eyes is. I can feel it again. Him. I could hear it. His crow. I feel peace. I'm troubled. I can feel it. It's the smell. It's coming but for whom I know not. It's lingered more than it should. I think it seeks more. I feel his uncertainty. I'm uncertain. I feel its solitude. Its silence. It's lonely. I'm alone.

Jerome picked his phone up. He logged into the internet. It took a while. The server wasn't responding. He waited a while and it went through. Sighing in relief. He quickly searched through a page and bookmarked it. He had nearly forgotten his research. He logged out and was about to drop it when it had a glitch and switched off. This was surprising. He tried the power button. There was no response. He guessed if it was broken. He tapped the screen several times. Still no response. He was already getting really frustrated . Thankfully, it came on. However, it showed two masks. A male and female, with these weird markings. There was a black knot at the top and at the bottom there was a word, 'Welcome' in the form of a knot. He grew curious. He tapped randomly on his screen. His hands hitting the 'welcome' a few times. Then it blurred. He squinted his eyes and brought the phone closer to his face. But he still couldn't see anything then he suddenly felt dizzy. His head started to ache. He quietly laid his head on the tree he was leaning on. Then he went unconscious. Fallen into an unnatural slumber.

He found himself in a misty place. He couldn't see far. There was nothing around him.

"Hello". He called. Hoping someone would hear him. He trudged slowly. It was very silent. He could even hear his own breathing. Suddenly there was a person backing him not far away. He hastened his footsteps. "Hello". He called again. But he discovered to his dismay that no matter how he tried to shorten the distance. He wasn't getting anywhere closer to that person. He bit his tongue. He could feel the blood staining his lips. The pain coursing through his body. He took off again. This time, he managed to reach the figure. It was the teen that looked like death. He stretched out his hand and pulled the figure back, trying to see what exactly he looked like. The figure turned slightly and Jerome could barely see what he looked like. It was his own face. He backed away immediately. Fear taking over him. He tried to scream but nothing came out. He stumbled as he tried to run. He blinked. It wasn't misty. There was no figure. He wasn't on the floor. He looked around. He found himself in a cemetery. He wore a black robe with a hood which covered his face. He wasn't alone. There were lots of people there. They wore the same clothing as him. He couldn't see anyone. He could hear them muttering. Some were laughing. Some singing. There were even a few who were dancing slightly. He could perceive the smell of ale. It was like he went back to the medieval era. He was slightly surprised that he knew how an ale smelt like. It was like a ceremony. He noticed he was at the front with a bunch of others dressed like him. They - including him - looked like new initiates. He blinked.

He felt himself kneeling this time. He was still in a group - they were all kneeling. In front of him was a tombstone. He couldn't see what was written exactly on it. He could only make out one word 'Augustus'. He could hear chants again. It started slow at first, then it got fast, real fast. He could feel his head ache badly. His eyes turning rapidly. He felt like he was all over the place. He could hear himself chant. But it wasn't him. It didn't feel like him. Heck, he didn't even know what this was. How could he know the right words to chant or the meaning, however it was him. He was indeed chanting. The words came rolling off his mouth naturally like he had studied and practiced it severally. Then suddenly everyone bizarrely stopped. It was so quiet. Then he saw it coming. A knife straight to his heart. He screamed. His voice came out this time. And he screamed - the loudest ever since his coming to this world.

He woke up.