[Kay]: 505.Stories.Mirror, Mirror.Chapter One

I don’t have a big house, and the name’s Mark.

What? That’s a fine way to begin a story. Many noteworthy stories open with the same exact concept, although I honestly don’t remember them. A whine. About money.

I’m always whining about money. At least I’m up front about it, instead of hiding my poverty behind a mask of anger towards capitalism. That’s the way the world turns, really. It’s no big deal. I have a house now-okay, so it’s an apartment. I always wondered why they were called apartments when they were so close together, and with the thin walls so that if you listened really hard, you can tell that you were the only person in the building not getting laid.

I also do have money, and it’s not as if I work for minimum wage. …So I work for slightly above minimum wage. I just wondered what you’d expect of me. I’m only in college. And the vampire incident wasn’t exactly the best thing in the world to boost my résumé.

No, I’m not a vampire. I just fell in love with one.

Oh, blah. You think I’m just some ordinary guy, right? Especially after all that vampire talk. No, really, I have a regular life. A personality, too, or I couldn’t write about it.

I just have to get one thing straight: She is real. She has radiant black hair, dark purple eyes (well, they’re brown, but in most lights they have a purplish tint, especially when she gets angry) and fangs. I might take a while, but it will come back to those fangs and that hair.

No, I’m not lying. I’m not exaggerating any Gothic girl.

I fell in love with a vampire.

Really, it all started about New Years Eve, back when I was still in the dorm, the second year of college; they allowed second-year housing, but in a crappy dorm. At least it was cheaper than an apartment. I was staring up at my ceiling, wondering what to do at midnight (as I was the only one in my entire dorm room not attending a party), and thinking about getting a girlfriend.

About a month later, I-what? Did the New Years Eve excerpt have anything to do with anything? Why not? I’m a loner type of guy. That night was when it really hit me, when I popped open a can of beer, toasted myself by banging it against a lamp, and threw it out the window without taking a single sip. I’m the one who plans out where to sit in class in order to avoid people. I sit in the second row but not in the front or the back, because sitting in the front singles you out and sitting in the back-well, there are 400 people in the class. I can’t see from the back, lack of good vision can do that to a person who can barely afford rent, much less glasses. Plus, the back is for the geniuses and the flunks, usually on continuing rivalry, as neither group is paying attention. All I know is that I’m not one of them. In more ways than one. For example, even the geniuses have girlfriends, like in the movies, even though they’re more anti-social than I am. Which gets me back to my story, as I-for the first time that year-actually gave thought to a girlfriend.

Don’t act shocked. Not all boys are testosterone-raging sacks of sex. Some of us, surprising as it may seem, need to study quite a bit to get a good grade in the class, and most of us while studying don’t like to concern ourselves with girls during this time, as they tend to get touchy when we don’t pay enough attention to them.

So I tried to get a girlfriend. Sorry, I was going to leave this part out, the main reason why it took so long to get around to it. It’s just a bit painful, as… I hate to admit it… I’ve never had a girlfriend before. Barely had any girl friends. As is mentioned before, I am very anti-social. Women are people, and thus, by definition, they scare me.

So there was Stacy. I heard bars are the best places to pick women up, and thus went, driving my beaten-down Beemer. Stacy was blond and beautiful and a total ditz. By the third drink she was ready to go home with me. I got her address from her wallet after she passed out the first time, helped her up to her room, held her hair back when she vomited into the toilet, and left with her begging in a slur for me to have my way with her.

So Stacy was bad enough, but along came Georgia. She was pretty bad to start out with-she couldn’t stop talking. The subject didn’t seem too important to her, she just seemed to focus on the act of hearing her own voice. After the second drink she got even worse. No, not another Stacy-this time she talked. The girl refused to take another drink, which left me with little hope that she’d pass out the same way as Stacy. Stacy was starting to seem like the perfect Athena or Helen, or some other Greek unattainable. Georgia barely drew breath during maybe three hours, which seemed like three days, and I finally fell asleep at two in the morning at her house. Fifteen minutes later, she noticed I had fallen asleep and got quite snubbed-I don’t blame her for being mad, but I do cite her as the cause of my slumber. Thirty minutes later, I collapsed just inside my front door and woke up at three because I had forgotten to shut the door and it was party-time with the neighbors, meaning they ditched their own dorm room and were splashing drinks all over the place in the hall. I spent the rest of the night smelling like beer.

After that, Virginia was on the list. She was-nothing. She had no personality. One of those Goth types that wear black, paint their eyes with enough makeup to immobilize a small buffalo, and don sunglasses even at night. The kind that do exactly what every other Gothic person is doing, yet refuse to ‘fit in with the crowd’. Her talk led mostly on the side of her extreme depths of angst and the intense fear of infection from the dreaded preps. About halfway through another angsty poetry session, I decided to get rid of her the only way you can get rid of the Gothic types-by talking about religion. My first question was if she had found Jesus in her life. She dumped me like a bag of dirty laundry, rushing outside to smoke and be moody with all the other Goths, whining that labels are for soup cans.

I then refused to meet women at bars, especially the ones with the names of states. Yes, they were in plentiful supply, like a field of grain waiting to be reaped or harvested or whatever farmers do to grain. It’s just that I was destined for strawberries and the nonexistent orchard of them. I then tried the library for a bit more choice of the ‘better’ variety, but the women there are like wild wolves, as scared of me as I am of them, yet vicious in their own right-so not much luck there. The only good part about that I did finally read a couple books I needed to get around to. By this time I had completely given up on girls; however, I still went to the library for the security of it, which segues into yet another part of the main story. See? I’m getting around to it.

I was there for the third week, about two months from the New Years Eve, checking out an armful of books. Suddenly remembering a book I had forgotten, I went to go find it. Walking through the aisles, wondering where the hell this author had gotten off having the last name he did, I saw her.

No, not Stacy or Georgia, or even Victoria; I’d have gone running the moment I detected them… although I’m not sure if Stacy remembers me. This girl was strange. Strange as in her hair was a dark blue and fell to her waist, and she had glasses. Big glasses. Which, in itself, wasn’t so strange, except they lacked any glass lenses. Her pants were on the verge of falling off her waist, and she wore a tie.

Not only all that, she was walking along the aisle and randomly selecting books. No list, nothing. I couldn’t stop staring as she grabbed ‘Motorcycle Repair for the Seemingly Hopeless’ and ‘Chicken Soup for the Grandparent’s Soul’. I had completely forgotten about Mr. Impossible Name, who fluttered in my hand on the piece of paper, and tried to absorb her.

Finally she noticed. Waving about a copy of Walden at me, she narrowed her eyes and said her first words, “Got a problem?”

My mother had always taught me to tell the truth, but under her glare I could only stammer it. “Hair… glasses… books…” She didn’t look as understanding as I had hoped. I doubted this girl would restrain herself from freeing that book from her hands and providing me with extra burden in the extremities.

She frowned. “Are you that close-minded?” she said, disgusted, and started to walk away.

I’ve always had problems with people hating me for the wrong reasons, so I called out, “Please! No! It’s my mom’s fault! With the truth…”

“Probably-she didn’t seem to spend enough time at the good condom section,” she called back, obviously not hearing the last part. I sighed, knowing I had completely set her up for that and knowing that half the library could hear us.

“Ach… Never mind,” I said, already praying she didn’t frequent this library often so I wouldn’t have to avoid it.

Suddenly I felt a hand upon my shoulder. “No,” she said, still glaring at me as though she wished to rip out my throat then and there. “Now I’m obliged to bow down to my curse.”

I was intrigued as well. “Your curse?” I asked.

“Curiosity,” she said. “You can learn a great many things through it, but really it’s a burden when it can’t be helped.”

I shrugged. “You know the saying-”

“Don’t say it,” she said. “Curiosity killed the cat.”

“Ah, yes, but you forget the ending-and satisfaction brought it back.” I now had her full attention, something I liked. I decided to amuse her with an anecdote of when I was younger, and my mom finally imprinted into me the importance of honesty. I was about three or four, and my mom made cookies. Now, when she made cookies, she only made so many, and that day we hadn’t really eaten breakfast, so I was pretty hungry. The cookies had just cooled on the pan when I got to them, so… well… I ate them. All. All twenty of them. I was picking the crumbs from the pan when my mom announced her position in the door. She had silently watched me polish the whole thing off, but I thought her cough was a bluff, and decided to call it. When she asked where the cookies had gone, I said a little bird had eaten them.

My mother finally got it into my head that the truth is a story that makes sense. She said, gently, not lecturing, that when you lie, you teeter on the edge of a knife blade. On one side is the dangerous chance that they are listening to you lie with the full knowledge of what you are doing-the biggest kind of trouble you can get in. On the other side is a deep chasm-if you fall into it, you’d just keep lying, and soon enough you’d never stop, the truth forever lost to you. You have to stay on the knife, which isn’t fun in itself, as your feet get entirely cut up. I was wide-eyed at the time. They say I was too young to remember it, but I think I do. At least, I can’t lie without a sour taste of cookies coming to my mouth.

The blue-haired girl was a good audience, which was pleasing. I explained that I just have a staring problem with things that fascinate me. She listened; her eyes wide open with curiosity behind her false glasses. When I was through, she grinned, and chose another book at random. I stared at it.

“Can I ask a question?” I asked.

Cocking an eyebrow, she said, “Well, you didn’t give me much of a choice.” But she didn’t answer the unspoken question, forcing me to voice it.

“Why the random book choosing?”

She looked down at her addition, Joy of Cooking. “I need to expand my horizons,” she said.

I cocked an eyebrow at her. She sighed, imitating me earlier.

“I’m in good classes, usually at least a little advanced,” she said. “And I’m usually at the top of them.” We both started walking toward the checkout line. “I love to get top grades-but recently, things have been coming up that have prevented too much studying, on my part.”

“Things?” I questioned.

“You know… things.”

I mock-gasped. She shoved me with her elbow. “Shush. You don’t have to know. Also, the units have been a bit harder than usual for me. So last grading period, I checked out the class ranking, and…” She swallowed, as if the mere thought left a bad taste in her mouth. “And I’m 4th in the class.”

I smiled and nodded, impressed, but sobered up very quickly once I realized that she was very dejected about the whole thing. “And what ranking do you usually get?” I asked, trying to be sympathetic and quiet.

“Top two,” she whispered.

My eyes widened. “Top two-in advanced classes?” I asked in a slightly loud voice, attracting stares from all over the library. Calming myself, I shook my head. “That’s actually pretty impressive.”

“No way!” she says, her voice raising a couple of notches. People who had just turned away from my outburst swiveled back and returned to staring at us. “Not only do I not have as much time to study, but we have those two transfer students, probably from Japan! They’re at the top, now-all because of superior learning at their schools, or something! The classes aren’t even above their grade level!” She literally growled, taking me aback. “They are now my rivals!” she said, with so much venom that I flinched.

“You’re slightly scary, in the are of rivals,” I mentioned. “My grades can stay where they are.” Gathering my courage to continue her on that subject, I nodded toward the books. “And those are to…?” I ventured.

“I already told you, I’m expanding my horizons! Those two geniuses are definitely not going to catch me off guard for anything.” She snapped her fingers, shifting the books to the crook of one arm. “Which reminds me, I’m hungry. Buy me lunch?”

This surprised me even more than her ferocity. “Why?” I asked, hardly daring to believe it.

“Because I am able to con my way into getting you to buy me lunch,” she simply answered. “I’m hungry and have no money. You have money, right?”

I sighed again. Digging into my pocket, I discovered the remnants of yesterday’s paycheck-fifteen dollars. “Yeah,” I said, sadly. “But it’s going to have to be cheap.”

The librarian scanned my books. “McDonalds is okay for me,” she said. “I’m too hungry to be picky.”

I rolled my eyes and waited for her. “You have a car, right?” she said. I nodded. “I don’t. Gimme a ride.”

I mock-growled at her. “So demanding,” I mentioned. She glared. “Okay, okay, to my gas-guzzler we go.” She happily followed me.

We got to McDonalds, and I coughed up some money for her cheeseburger. Grabbing my own meal, we spent two minutes debating whether to eat in the car or on the outside benches. We finally chose the benches, as the girl managed to trip over herself on the way out, almost losing her drink and completely losing my confidence in her ability to not drop her food.

We also had a very nice discussion.

“I’ve heard they use all the parts of a cow,” she says, taking a large mouthful of one.

“Define ‘all’. Do you mean the bones?” I asked. She shook her head, and took a moment to swallow before answering.

“No way. They just use the intestines as well as the meat, and the testicles, too.” I looked skeptically down at my hamburger, and back up at her. She rolled her eyes at me. “You’ve been eating it for years, what harm can it do now?” I decided she had a point, and cautiously took another bite.

“What about you? Why do YOU not care?” I looked over her for her response. She thought for a moment.

“I think it’s because I truly don’t care,” she said. “It’s a good reason. I just like MEAT. Good and raw. I mean, run the cow by me. I’ll grab off what I want then ride the rest home.” We both had a good laugh, and I shook my head at her, amused yet faintly disgusted at this choice of lunchtime talk. “I heard that horse and bull testicles were a meal down South,” she said, in an attempt to get me going again.

I grimaced at her.

“They call them prairie oysters,” she added helpfully.

“What about vegetarians?” I asked. “Are you attempting to convert me?”

She narrowed her eyes. “No. And anyways, I’m not calling them wrong,” she stated. “It’s just another viewpoint. However, my viewpoint on them involves this question: Are they merely increasing the animal population while depleting their food source as a crueler, slower method of killing them off?” She grinned as I glared at her.

We finished our meal, talking about the fries in the same way-a discussion on how potato is pronounced-then grabbed our drinks and went to my car. “Don’t spill,” I warned her.

“Okay, where do you live?” I asked.

She frowned. “Aw, that quick?” she said.

“Hey, I bought you lunch. There wasn’t a deal or anything, but I feel that my end of it is up. Maybe you even owe me lunch sometime.” The words slipped out of my mouth without me even thinking of them. I went into Auto-Fumble mode as I hurriedly absorbed that I had basically asked her out on a date without meaning to. “I mean… I didn’t mean… You know… You don’t know… I didn’t mean what you’re thinking. It was just… I’m not a rich kid…”

“This is your mom’s fault, too?” she asked, smiling. I noticed how her eyes squinted up when she smiled. “Fine, then. I owe you either in money or physical favors.”

I glowered at her while she laughed hysterically. “Shut up,” I finally told her, pulling out of the parking lot. “Where?”

Still giggling, she pointed the way. We got there in under five minutes-her apartment wasn’t that far from the library. She began to climb out, then pulled a pen out of a book and scrawled something on my arm.

“You’re going to have to remind me,” she said, as I looked down at my arm and discovered her number. “I’ll probably forget you after today, so I’d probably be in debt until I die if I were to get your number.”

“I could sell your body to science and get my money back that way,” I said brightly, as she walked into her apartment laughing.

It wasn’t until I was in my dorm room copying down her phone number when I realized that I had no idea what her name was.

So what does that have to do with vampires? Hey, you’re getting ahead of me. Although, it does make sense, as I got ahead of myself in the beginning. I’m sorry for raising your expectations, I just need to get through a bit of exposition first.

I called her up the next day, just to learn her name, also to give her my own number and name. It was Sipht, or at least that’s what she told me she wanted me to call her, for one reason or another. Her real name was Kimberly, and her parents called her Kelly. I decided to do a little research on Kimberly in the school’s computers, and discovered some amazing things. She graduated high school at the age of 16, was caught by the government detective agency for hacking into secret files at the age of 14, and was a double major. There was a strange hole in her high school attendance record for her sophomore year. She was in the top of her classes-all of her classes, except, of course, one. The ID numbers above her name in the rank glared up at me like rabid ferrets.

I stared at them. Each college student has an ID number, and each class has a rank-our college was very competitive. These numbers almost seemed to have a silver sheen about them, as if the combination was a magical one. Intrigued by these people who have managed to beat the young genius-and every other student in their other classes-I found myself investigating them.

One was a boy, and the other was a girl. Their ages were closer to mine than Sipht’s was, being in my grade. Their names were Zhin Hulten and May-lea Menshin, respectively. They were foreign exchange students, although the country was strangely absent their description.

I didn’t know why I was still curious about them. It was obvious that they were both very smart, and probably already knew all of this material, but other than that this was nothing special. We have students like that-who come in from foreign countries, graduate each year with flying colors, then leave. A couple of them are even average students, about at my level. Ones that were even better than that were only a slight bit more interesting.

Again, the combination of the numbers is what I’ve been blaming it on for a while now. That, and their curious names-I couldn’t place any sort of nationality to them. Zhin and May-lea. They were causing Sipht distress, but there wasn’t much I could do about that except help her beat them in school, and she would probably have to help me study. I shook my head and leaned back from the computer, tired. Putting my hand on the mouse, I hesitated only an instant before clicking the computer screen off and shutting down.

A couple of days later, I received a call from Sipht.

“Hey!” she declared, sounding urgent. “Wake up!” I yawned, looking at the clock and noting that it was still two hours before my first class that day.

“Why so early?” I mumbled. “It can’t be lunchtime yet.”

“No, you have to help me face my rivals!”

My slow brain took a moment to process that, and then connected it with memory to get what she was talking about. “Now? What would my presence do?”

There was silence on the other end of the phone. I could imagine her eyes widening, as they did when she thought about herself or listened to another person tell a story. “Absolutely nothing,” she said. Then adding, “Maybe give me some good insults.”

“At the moment,” I stretched, “The best insult I could give you includes your mother. And I don’t know if I want to direct it towards them.”

I could imagine her glaring with impatience. “Come on!” her voice says. “Pick me up in ten minutes! I’ll be late for my class!” The phone clicked off, followed soon after by a dial tone.

I shook my head, now in more than a little bad mood. “Fine, fine,” I muttered, getting dressed. “If I don’t, you’ll probably kill me, eventually.”

When I got there, she was tapping her foot. “Took you long enough!” she shouted, running to the car. When I pointed out that I was five minutes early, her only response was to stick her tongue out at me and tuck a strand of dark blue hair behind her ear.

While driving there, I noticed she was fidgeting. Glancing closer, I then noticed she was wearing makeup. She’s nervous, I thought, surprised. Sipht didn’t seem the type to get nervous.

“Okay, so when we get there, you have to just stand there,” she hastened to say as we pulled into the school parking lot. “You’re to help me out and defend me if I get too ahead of myself.”

A bit more awake at this point, I was able to say, “And what are you doing?”

“Sizing them up,” Sipht said, getting out of the car. “Maybe telling them I’ve declared war.”

“So you’ve declared war, and they don’t know,” I replied, following her. “I think you skipped something in that definition.”

“Well, it’s like that saying goes-‘It’s not a competition until I win, and they’re not my enemies until I get my revenge’.” She glanced about, and then strode into the building and down a hall. I shook my head and quietly followed her.

“Yo!” someone called out. I heard the ‘click’ of high-heels, and suddenly a blond girl was standing there. “You got a boyfriend, Kels?”

Sipht shook her head, frowning. “He’s just my backup,” she explained to the short-haired blond girl.

“Can I take him?” she said. “He’s nice.”

I blushed while Sipht looked skeptical and startled at the same time. “How? You’ve never met him, Rachel.”

“I’ve met his… friends,” she says. I got nervous. I didn’t like the way she said friends.

“Friends?” Sipht said when I didn’t say anything.

“Stacy!” she squealed. I nearly fainted when that name was uttered. Sipht looked at me sideways.

“Some girl,” I managed to get out.

“I’ll tell you the whole story later,” Rachel giggled to Sipht as if I wasn’t there. “Stacy remembers most of it. You got great backup. He passed up a chance to get laid.”

Rachel walked off as Sipht and I continued to walk, me bright red, Sipht thoughtful. Finally, she talked. “You passed up-”

“Quiet,” I said. “I’ll tell you later.”

“Good, because we’re here.” Room 182. I hadn’t been in this classroom since I was a freshman… And wouldn’t ever step into it again.

“By the way, I am going to hold you to telling me later,” Sipht added as she opened the thin wooden door and stepped inside, looking about.

I entered as well, looking around and refusing to make any sort of eye contact with the freshman. This was a class lower than me-you can take it earlier instead of later, and most people take it earlier (although you can take it during sophomore year, if you flunk or are lazy)-and I refused to let them entertain the thought that I was here for a specific reason.

Despite my demure demeanor, I still managed to solicit quite a few giggles and stares. I sighed as if the world were crashing down about my ears when Sipht slapped my arm half-heartedly.

“What?” I hissed, still trying to stare down the girl who had just stuck her tongue out at me. She hit me again. I sighed, not as earth-shattering a sigh as the previous one, and turned about.

That was when I saw her. She had the richest black hair I had ever seen, covered partly by a black beret that matched her dark clothing. Her skin was extremely pale and looked wonderful on whatever part of her slender body showed.

She noticed me staring at her and looked up. In the moments before she put on her sunglasses as she continued to stare at me, staring at her, I noticed that her eyes were a dark, dark brown-but purple seemed to swirl about her pupils, pulling me in.

I broke out of my trance a few moments after she put on her sunglasses and looked over at Sipht. Sipht was staring, entranced as well-then I looked up and saw that the object of her attention was not my object.

There was a rather tall male figure standing next to the pale girl. I cannot say whether he is a boy or a man, rather that his slender figure suggested boyhood, and in contrast his airy demeanor demanded that he was fully grown. He possessed light brown hair and quite a few good features about his person, but as I am a male myself and would rather not boost the ego of my competitors I shall not describe them here… Except one characteristic does needs mentioning-his golden eyes seemed to pierce your soul when you met them. I shuddered and looked back at Sipht, who had shaken out of her trance, as well.

She pulled me behind a small crowd of people, hidden from the pair’s viewpoint. Looking back, I saw that they were following our every move as we disappeared from view.

“Are they ‘the students’?” I asked.

Sipht nodded. “They must be. Strange how it took them beating me on a test for me to notice them. They can’t be from around here-I should have seen them.”

One of them, anyway, I couldn’t help myself from thinking.

“I saw the way you were drooling about the girl,” Sipht accused me, slightly angrily, as if reading my thoughts. “This is war! You must NOT allow your emotions to grab hold of you!”

“You looked like you wanted someone to grab hold of you,” I said, unable to resist. She hit me, hard, on the arm.

“You shut up,” she said-but refused to deny it, a sly move that I caught quickly. It was something I personally had worked years to perfect.

“Zhin Hulten and May-lea Menshin.” She looked at me in surprise, as she was not the one who said it. “What?” I said. “Like I can’t have any computer skills as well?”

“That’s impressive,” a slightly husky voice said. I jumped a foot and spun around-the pale girl was right there.

All I could manage was a squeak, and Sipht stepped in front of me. However, she couldn’t find anything to say either and merely glared.

The girl-May-lea-calmly put her hands up in surrender. “I don’t have any idea why you seem hostile,” she says, her low voice ringing with just a faint, untraceable accent.

“No idea, huh,” Sipht managed to growl out. It was like she just then realized that she didn’t have much of an idea, either-or at least a way to issue her challenge. Striking a pose, the best she could do under the circumstances, she pointed a finger dramatically, straight at May-lea’s chest. “You!” she shouted. “You are my rival!”

Now the entire class was watching this soap opera commence, except the effect was slightly taken away when May-lea giggled.

Sipht drew herself up in indignation. “How dare you mock me!” she cried.

“No, no!” May-lea pleaded, still laughing. “You have misunderstood my gesture! It has been a while since someone has declared me a rival with such formality!” She straightened up, suddenly sober. “I am for you, One Who Has Yet to be Named.”

“I am for you, too, May-lea,” Sipht declared. “My name shall remain a mystery for the present. We shall meet again.” She turned about and dramatically went to her desk.

I rubbed the back of my neck. Again, May-lea’s eyes locked on me in interest. I also straightened up, trying to make myself bigger. Finding myself at a loss of words, I paused a moment for dramatic effect before leaving, just as her friend appeared at her shoulder.

I stood next to Sipht. “I’m about to leave,” I said. “This class is too tense for me.”

Sipht nodded tersely, eyeing the new students. The two of them were staring at us eerily, and I couldn’t suppress a shudder as I looked away. When I next looked to them, they were looking at the teacher with impassive features. Trying to rid myself of the feeling that the two students were strange-if not malicious-I hurried out of the class, taking great pains to not fall within their line of sight.

Even though her eyes still bore holes into my back whenever I think of that day, I dreamt of her that night.

It was not a bad dream or a good dream; a neutral dream, as dreams go. Just… an unusual one. There was a tunnel, a darkened tunnel with light that merely lit a narrow path. Suddenly the light separated, becoming tiny spotlights that dotted the length of the path, small lines of pitch black separating each piercing beam.

I stood at one end of the tunnel, and May-lea was in it. She stood in a spotlight, turned, and saw me waiting.

In the dream, her face was calm and impassive, yet soft and full of emotion-she didn’t look in the least like the staring statue I had met in the classroom. When she saw me, her eyes lit up, and she began to run down the tunnel.

The walls began spinning around the unchanging path. For a split second, May-lea disappeared into the darkness as she stepped out of one light into the next.

In that second, she changed. She wore different clothes-what clothes they may have been, I wouldn’t know to this day. In my dream, the clothes were darker, looser, and somehow tighter at the same time.

I looked down and saw my own clothes changed in the same fashion, and looked up again to see May-lea still advancing toward me, each footstep slower than the last, as though the dream intended me to see the changes in slow motion.

With each pass into a shadow, May-lea became a little more emotionless. Finally, she was the person I had seen in the classroom-the girl with the point-blank eyes and the impassive stare.

However, she kept changing. The lights flickered, changed position. May-lea was mostly in darkness now, with just enough light to show her advancement. Her eyes grew narrower; her lips, thinner. A scowl circled her face with crease lines and shadows. May-lea’s hair billowed about, although there was no trace of wind-sort of like what happens in movies, although in this dream, it had an eerie undertone, like her hair was a separate entity.

She was almost to me, and I could feel the same changes occurring deep in my soul. I tried to fight it, but involuntarily, I reached out my arms to this creature coming toward me, with the darkness of the night surrounding her in her clothing, and the faces of many demons staring out from her eyes.

Finally, she was there, leaping in the air, slowly floating towards my outstretched arms. A grin appeared upon her face-it was horrible in its pure demonic rage, but somewhere in my new soul I was happy to see it, if happy is the word.

Just before she arrived, she fell apart-that grinning face broke into many jagged pieces, and each piece became a bat, a dark shadow with wings that broke the solid formation and flew at me with startling speed, in contrast to the past slow motion. They fluttered past, letting out small shrieks, and I was left grasping thin air.

I woke up that morning in a cold sweat, gasping at the world as though the night had nearly enveloped and drowned me.