BOOK 1 REVELATION

Prologue (not written yet)

Chapter 1

No sooner than mike had switched off the phone he let it drop to the floor. He stood next to his bed in a daze he tilted his head slightly to the left and caught his reflection in his lamp.

SMASH

The shattered pieces of the lamp lay scattered on the floor blanketing the phone both casualties to a lost war. He stood in darkness as he replayed the conversation on the phone.

"Please Mike you know brain hates it when I miss his practices and the only time I can work on this stupid project is after school. Its only a two page essay your smart I'm sure you can easily do it yourself. Please Mike, for me."

"Sure no problem" he hated his masks the masks he had to wear, especially the thick granite one her presence required.

"Thank you so much you don't know how much of help this is…"

"Yeah yeah yeah I know I'll do it tomorrow, you know me always willing to help." He wondered if his eyes would stick if he rolled them that far back into his head.

She went on for about ten more minutes, "I guess I will talk to you tomorrow"

"Sure." The words made his mouth ache.

He was done remembering there was no point in replaying it again he was still standing in darkness, still standing over his broken lamp, still a casualty of a lost war. Now he was left to pick up the pieces and pretend like nothing had happened. Mike sat down on his bed and leaned back to grab a pack of cigarettes and his lighter off the windowsill. After fishing the last cigarette out of the box he thought of how he now needed to buy another pack. Another pointless function in his already pointless day. "love to smoke love smoke" he chanted as he lit his cigarette.

"What the hell are you mumbling about Mike?" Light poured into the room as she opened the door. What the hell did you do?"

"nothing"

"Do you ever get tired of breaking things?"

"Surprisingly, no I find it very funny. Now where the fuck is the dust pan."

"I'll get it just try not to break anything while I'm gone." Sara was fourteen and was already had a tendency to a bitch when the occasion arised

"Deal."

The phone rang again snapping mike out of laughter. On the other end of the phone Pete Rasdon his best friend. After a quick greeting the pseudo drama of the day unfolded.

"So the bitch wants me to write the whole thing myself you I know what she did she pulled that please for me shit!" Mike tightened his grip on the phone until his knuckles were white.

"What a bitch, did you see the Simpson's last night it was the one where…" Pete gently switched the subject which he often did when mike would talk about Amy.

"No I missed it I was to busy cleaning up the lamp." Mike spit out abruptly interrupting.

He had met Pete a few years ago when they started high school. Thrown together at the end of a lunch table at which they really didn’t belong. Neither knew at that moment of what they had to offer to each other. They spent the remainder of the year trying to fit in until, each learned that they couldn’t belong, shouldn’t belong, and wouldn’t belong to the prep dominated school. They soon found others to hang out with, that felt the same way they did. A new beginning, and a new way of thinking. Revelations of free thought and shattered conformity.

They joked but never laughed about keeping each other sane over the years. They came from different towns but somehow they were the same. They fed off each other’s misery and fortune. Somehow they knew the other person had it off worse, which made each of them feel less insecure. Not the ideal way to become friends, but it worked for them. They could talk without saying a word...most found it annoying they found it useful.

Pete lived with his mother. His father had left his mother a few years ago. But with the constant parade of his mother’s boyfriends, the house was never quiet or empty. And neither was her bed. Pete had grown to accept it though. Laughing off the teenage mother jokes knowing most of them were probably true. Mike grew up in a Brady bunch episode family. His parents never argued in front of the kids. His brother off at college his sister too busy growing up to bother Mike. But something was lurking underneath something only he saw. A loud bang in the middle of night a phone call which seemed out of place.

"Ok well I need to get cigarette's and I'm bored you want to come out for a little bit you can fill me in on all the latest on goings in Springfield."

"Sounds good to me my mom's got the man of the week over so I could use the excursion."

"I'll be there in 10 minutes, talk to you then." It was a 15 minute drive across the town.

"Cool" Pete hung up the phone knowing the conversation was done.

Mike stood in front of his car playing which pocket did I put my keys in. After turning every pocket inside out he found them. He opened the door and slid inside. He never locked his doors maybe because his car was a rusted dented ducted taped seats missing passenger side visor blue Cavalier.

"What a piece of shit" he said as the car rumbled to life.

It was given to him as a birthday present for the sole purpose of a way to get back and forth from work. Two days after he got the car Mike lost his job. His savings were running out and the inspiration to find another job was minimum.

Mike arrived at his house 8 minutes later…almost hitting his mailbox for the third time this week. Pete jumped into his car almost before mike had a chance to stop.

"New record"

"I think so…had to slow down at the stop signs."

Chapter 2 (THE NEXT DAY: SCHOOL)

Millingston High School sat on the outskirts of the small suburb. Today no different than any other. Buses pulling away almost running over the students trying to make it before the first bell. Inside nosier than a sporting event.

"It's too damn early" Mike muttered as he slowly dragged his hand over his mouth, "ugh, one day i swear!" His eyes had yet to function properly but he slowly lurched forward down the hall of his high school.

It was a good thing the majority of the lights in the halls didn’t work. He found the dark comforting. As he almost stumbled down the hall he passed a large group encircled around a few lockers. He knew who was in the circle. In the core was the most popular of the clique and as you moved outwards the grabbing for attention as if it was something that could be placed in a glass case and shown to others for admiration.

Popularity: the state of being liked by many popularity decreased until the circle broke. Then there were passersby, some who were deeply interested in the clan’s goings on and those like him, who didn’t give two shits, who could do without the constant approval of friends.

His associates, as he referred to them, were scattered through the halls in smaller groups. They were content to be shunned from the "in crowd." They popular focused on people or so the dictionary thought. Not being able to resist what everyone else was doing. There was something more, the stepladder it gave people. A pseudo righteousness that let popular people look down at others to taunt and shun. His friends accepted him and that was fine by him. He could deal without the burden of needing to be liked.

Trying to make is to first class he almost bumps into a couple that has found a spot to make out in. A relationship which mike had and secretly wanted back. The trivial letters, the petty bickering...the makeup kiss that lasted for minutes. He was all too familiar with the ideals. Things no guy would ever admit to liking but all stared for a second to long thinking about it.

First Period, Mr. Preston kept his attention with his semi-humorous comments of his everyday life. Each year he told the same stories but with a new twist. He enjoyed his job, maybe a little too much.

All you had to do for an A in this class was to be liked by the teacher. Which seemed impossible for Mike because when he did talk, what was said was never understood. Whenever he said the correct answer it was a smart answer remark but for another opportunity for praise. The slackers all sat in the back, only talking when they needed. It was a college prep course so the members of the class were diverse in both intelligence and work habits. The teacher taught too slow for him so Mike found himself lacking concentration, he picked up thing before the teacher said them. Not exactly the way education was supposed to work. Of course nothing works the way it should but everyone seems to live in theory.

He looked out into the hall long enough to see Zoey walk by. He sat and tried to figure out where she was going. He’d known her since kindergarten, how he missed grade school. He had only become a good friend with her in high school. They found a place that they could be who they wanted to be, and excepted for it. There was only one Zoey and he was glad he knew her. All of his friends were one of a kind, especially Zoey. Her real name was Zaila Argnes but she was just known as Zoey. Pete, Zoey and him hung out all the time. He had introduced Pete and Zoey to each other,

A song played in his head, a slight deviation but so much better than the dredging class he was stuck in. Pseudo Morality, a Razor Eye song, they were both big fans of the band and they were cool until everyone found out about them. They produced some videos that got a lot of airtime and it became ’in’ to like them. Only a few people took the time to listen to the music. Mike and Zoey were two of them. They had gone to see them in concert, for each a major thrill. He looked down at his tee shirt, it said Razor Eye on the front with in small italics; the name of their latest album Twisted Morality. On the back was the logo, an interesting recombination of the letters with a small razor blade in the middle. He was often stereo typed because he wore the shirt, but if people couldn’t grasp that it was just 100% preshrunk cotton with words on it he didn’t want to know them anyway.

The rest of the class began to ignore the teacher and pack up, which shook him back to reality. The bell rang and the students poured out into the hall as if a tourniquet had been suddenly removed.

Walking down the hall was always an adventure. The two slowest people on earth were always in front of you. Talking about what they were doing after school when neither one of them were doing anything. If you found your way around them you ended up dodging the people who never seemed to have any books and never seemed to worry about getting to class.

He finally made it to his next class 10 seconds before the bell. He sat down in his assigned seat. He had enough time to sit down and doze off to sleep.

He was seated in front of Amy Halleck. "Didn’t you get any sleep last night?…working on our English essay." Amy joked.

She leaned towards him; women can never sit properly in a seat. He sat there contemplating whether he was going to do it or not but he knew of course he would.

"Yeah" it wasn't started nor would it be until the last second but it wasn't worth explaining at this moment.

Amy was Mike's ex-girlfriend. It had been over a year since the break up. Enough time had passed for wounds to heal hearts to be mended...but Mike hadn't yet fully recovered. It came as a shock to the school when the broke up...the act they put on in front of others almost seemed to perfect. But behind the scenes when the curtain went down they had their problems. Voted cutest couple by the school...the jealous looks they got from the other students. But that was a year ago.... Mike had changed. Amy had left Mike for what she thought was the better deal. Brian football quarterback had the looks and the money someone she could take home to daddy. Mike had thoughts of what he would do with a second chance. How he would fix the problems they had. What he would do different this time. But he knew it was a lost cause. He tried to escape her but the guilt of what she had done to him...made her keep trying to talk to him....trying to make up for something that she never could.

Amy was a Prep-everything was put into what they wore, things were left unsaid so no one had to think. Holier than thou ten feet taller than every one else just because you comb your hair every five minutes, plaster it so it won’t move, check your makeup every class period, and tuck in your shirts. Know what you're wearing four weeks in advance. Heaven for bid you should only own one pair of shoes which one pair damn well better have a swoosh. Never could wear t he same thing in a two-week period. That would be death of your stature. Yeah, just because you got laid cause you're an asshole and begged for it you're so perfect the beautiful people who only see their reflection in other peoples' eyes and that’s all they could be, everything was torn out and glued outside. Dress the outside so no one will think to look inside for the contents.

Some did drugs because was fashionable to say, "yo i smoked a fat blunt last weekend." But it was well hidden and no one could see them do it. Inside jokes to fill empty souls. They cloned one another; differences were to be expelled. "Why you dress like that?" but the other side asked the same question. Conformists; what was in and what they stride to be, but many of them tripped on the way. Mike and Peter had decided that could be popular and have a slutty significant other if they burned all they were and acted like total assholes; but it was so against everything they stood for and they’d rather ingest anti- freeze before trying to become a prep. The preps were the people that expected to control reality and where quite mispleased when they can’t contain all the variables.

Mike however stood on the other side. If you weren’t a prep you didn’t conform so probably were labeled a freak, which was no insult, most wore it like a red badge of courage. They were labeled the drug users but if you tested everyone today the ratio would be even. Mike has been asked several times what drugs he did. He’d never done anything and had little desire to. Freaks that did them did them because the saw everything for what it was, Preps because they couldn’t. They were left to show people what was really going on but few listened because they couldn’t live without their delusions. They weren’t going to sit down (in their untucked shirts) and watch it all burn. Then not say anything in fear of what everyone else would think the total reciprocal of the preps.

The structure was reminiscent of feudalism. Set in stone, you didn’t move up or down. No one ever wanted to or saw the need to. To switch sides would be admitting you were nothing but a label and had no personality. But something had to hold everything together so everyone could be labeled. There were some fence sitters and people didn’t always fit the extreme even in math there’s negative and positive but zero has neither quality or maybe it has both. The Plessy vs. Ferguson ruling said it was legal to be segregated as long it was separate but equal but opposites can never equal to each other so it was never equal.

The preps had power...over what it wasn’t sure but the freaks didn’t care because they didn’t, and never would have, power over them. It's a very complex science, a formula with many variables, but there was nothing else when you're forced to learn for six and half-hours.

When Amy didn’t get the attention she was looking for from Mike she turned and began a pseudo world issue conversation with Katie Elis who was sitting next to her. You could see the disgust on Katie’s face. Katie hated girls, especially the pretty ones. She excepted her looks yet still wanted to be like the pretty blonde sidekick next to her.

Katie's talk of religion drove most away. She judged others for not following her preset in stone religion. Luckily for her the bell rang before anything somewhat controversial was said, or she might have had to put on her Virgin Mary mask and preach her thoughts on purity.

Chapter 3 (LUNCH)

Lunch a salvation of sanity for students. Forty minutes out of the learning process. Each table an island of personality. Tables were formed by the second day of school based on what problems they had, although there were drifters and some people left they basically stayed the same. Each table had a common bond, each being screwed in the same way. That is what it basically came down to. The reason most came to school every day was to see what would happen in the next episode.

During the first day of school Mike and Pete sat down. By the end of the period they picked up a few interesting characters. Every now and then one threatened to leave. They never did because it was the only place they could stay.

The most enigmatic was Larry Hindle. He was a short little guy with a shrill voice. He always seemed to be in character. Mocking mimicking or matching every voice he heard. It was almost like each voice was a different person and he was still trying to find the one that would give him a place. Always looking for approval. Searching to take the relationship part out of sex by overemphasizing his physical stature.

Across from him sat Scott Sills, neither Mike nor Pete could figure out why they tolerated him. He was a good resource and although neither would admit it a good friend. He did have some sort of power over women. He had about a million ex-girlfriends, but they only lasted a few weeks. The two of them never did quite figure out how to property manipulate pity but Scott used it as a magnet. Scott used his no care attitude, accessorize by him wearing sweat pants as a ploy to drag the women into his web. What he got out of talking until two in the morning over the phone no one knew.

Lauren Delano, she had been labeled as Pete’s girlfriend. Pete though never said it out loud. He wasn’t searching for another label. Lauren's eyes were open to most things, which was always good when you sat at this particular table. She tried to keep herself out of these pseudo conversations but occasionally would come up with something to add. Along with her, came her friends who were not welcomed at the table. Old boyfriends, whom Pete hated and feared, and girl friends that the rest of the table would ignore in any other situation.

Only one of Lauren’s friends was ever accepted. More than was expectable for Lauren. Mary was forced from the table by some ingenious political moves on the part of Lauren. Mary’s quiet persona caught some attention. The quiet ones always have the best things to say when they talk. Not to mention her looks… the kind of pretty you only found in movies. The type of girl that if you dated you said you would treat her like a princess.

Each was drawn to the table for some reason or another. It was a support group for individuals trying to survive a Prep dominated school.

As Mike sat there, Amy walked up to the table talking about the homework in Math. She sat down next to him on the table. She never sat properly.

"Can i copy your math homework?"

Of course he hadn’t done the homework. He wasn’t even really listening to her at the moment, but as she finished her first sentence Amy’s boyfriend grabbed him on the shoulder. Mike sat up quickly but was soon confronted by a 6-foot football player. Although Mike was strong he knew this was not a fight he wanted to start. Brian pushed him down to his seat. Grabbed Amy by her arm pulling her across the checkered linoleum to another lunch table.

A second later lunch abruptly ended as it always did. Conversations came to a conclusion the second of the bell. No one would remember what was talked about five minutes later but in some ways it always helped. They left no better than they came in, maybe even worse.

They separated in the hall. None of them admitted knowing one another outside of lunch. Everyone admitted knowing only the select few. It was probably for the best. That group together all day could quite possibly take over the school.

Mike wondered the halls till he stumbled upon his class, still thinking about Brian pushing him during Lunch. He focused his mind back onto the forty-five minutes he had left of school. He had a test next period that he didn't have to study for.

Mike finished his test early. Only two were done, so he either did really well or really bad. You know you’re bored in class when you can tell what kind of shoes each person has on. It's best to stare at the floor. Not as noticeable, and you don't have to make eye contact. If the teacher is watching she’ll never know. He felt alone in this class, separated, most of them are from last year’s honors. A lonely old college prep, Mike, in the back. He felt it demeaning.

They think they’re all smart but when they talk and answer he can tell their not. They thought in their minds they were smart but as half thought out sentences were called out so was their intellect. Some of them are really dumb. So why are they in honors, because they cared about their grades, no it happened in grade school? The class is divided. Some are just placed above others. In first grade his teacher put half the class in the smart group and the rest were forced behind. They were all the same she just chose them. He wondered if he had been in that group would he be in honors now. Would guidance not discriminate against him? School, it’s not merit it is who likes you and whose butt you kiss. All chance, one will never say it, but that’s how it really works.

Only 3 still taking the test the rest of then would have to find something to do or she would load them with busy work till the end of the period. A few whispers hear and there. No one is even testing anymore oh wait no "How was it" uh shut up it doesn’t matter you won’t change the grade so now we go over it "what you get for number 13" they all seem so interested like it helps their grade to understand now. End the period, no new lesson, just idle chitchat. "What lunch you in... Where you sit..." They beg for no work yet whine when they fail the test.

Chapter 4 (END OF THE DAY)

The day ended. Mike headed to his car, passing the football field on his way. As he paced out pass the freshly cut grass he spotted Brian Carter out of the corner of his eye. Brian had removed his helmet and started walking towards Mike.

As he got in shouting distance, he jogged over to Mike. "Mike...hold on a second."

Brian stood in front of Mike talking down to him; "i want you to stay away from Amy."

Mike wanted to go off. Tell him to go to hell. Tell him what he thought of Amy. He knew that he scared Brian and he liked it. The retribution for attempting to put his feelings on paper for her. He knew she didn’t appreciate the thought and meaning put into the poem he wrote her. Unfortunately he had a problem, he sort of cared. Putting fear in another with just his mind. He was sure Amy had been given a similar warning earlier that day. Instead he removed Brian’s hand from his shoulder and continued walking to his car. Brian turned and headed back for practice.

Katie Elis greeted Mike at his car. "Can you give me a ride home Mike?" He had lived down the street from Katie ever since he could remember. Although they usually never spoke outside of school.

"Whatever...get in... It's not locked." He didn’t know why he put up with her.

As they pulled from the school she commented, "i haven’t seen you in church lately." The church he attended, 3 years ago, once, had been hounding him ever since.

"Yeah well god and me aren’t on speaking terms anymore. I'm tired of looking up at the hypocrite priest speaking every Sunday." Mike said, not trying to be controversial but just stating his reasons.

"Judge not, and you shall not be judged. Condemn not, and you shall not be condemned. Forgive, and you will be forgiven. Give, and it will be given to you...Luke 6 37." she spoke with the same blind faith that men protested on their deathbeds.

The walking bible as she was called. He looked down at the dashboard. He hadn’t realized that he was going 80 mph. "Hasn’t anybody told you not to force your religion on others." There were acceptable sins. This was one of them.

 "No... I've never heard that," she said with a slight chuckle. He pulled into her driveway a minute later.

"Thanks for the ride...I'll talk to you later." she said as she opened the car door,

Mike leaned across the seat, "Hey Katie...Can the blind lead the blind? Will they not both fall into the ditch?...Luke 6 39." The door closed.

Seconds Later Mike arrived at his house. The car door slammed behind him as he slipped his cigarettes and lighter into his pocket. His house was empty. His parents both had 9 to 5 jobs and 5 to 9 love affairs he thought to himself. They didn't bother to lock the doors in the small suburb. He wandered over to the fridge taking out a beer from his father's stash. He figured it was the end of another week and he deseved a moment of cellebration. He popped it open on the counter a kicked back almost the whole can. Hated the taste but loved the effect. He sat at the kitchen table thinking of revenge. Revenge was for other's though.... He preferred justice as a more suitable action.

Mike hadn't slept right for months. Hadn't eaten regularly in a long time. His body slowly deteratating…his mind decaying. His day filled with mood swings…..one moment he was fine another he didn't know how he was going to continue. Another day had passed but a thousand more reasons he wished for his own death had occurred.

Mike sat pondering whether he should call Zoey or not. He hadn't hung out with her in a while…too consumed with his own pain he did not need hers to add to his anguish. She had just begun to also get over a horrible break up. Both trying to put together the pieces. Something needed to change for the both of them. Something to break the boredom…keeping to themselves escaping the games their ex lovers played on a daily basis. Trying to avoid conflict as much as possible. Seemed odd that he missed the games yet knew it was for the best not to play. Taking a game off before the double header soon to follow.

Mike treaded back into down the hall into his room. His eyes half open he slouched into the beat up recliner in the corner of his room next to his bed. He lit up a cigarette and searched his slogan covered walls for an explanation to his dream. He had begun writing things only his wall only a short time ago but was already running out of room. His floor covered with cigarette boxes and empty soda cans. His closet emptied out onto the floor. On the other side of the room were the only thing he kept clean his electronic reality; stereo, TV, VCR, a few components to a Commodore 64 left from his childhood. He hadn't realized until this moment how stupid is was to still have it. But these insignificant little parts of his life did not seem that way anymore. The cigarette had burnt down to the filter as he was sitting there mesmerized by absolutely nothing.

He reached down to the floor and picked up his notebook. He picked a pen up off the top of the stereo as he turned it on. He decided to write the essay now and get it over with.

Overwhelmed by the thoughts of the anarchy that his life had been in the last year, he decided that sleep was the only solution. He laid down on his bed forgetting to turn off the stereo. Tomorrow could not come soon enough.

Chapter 5

Michael Scheel, slept, sprawled across his bed, covers pushed in a heap at his feet. He still wore the boots and clothes he had worn to school earlier that day. His mind wandered in sleep. His body entered by a virus. A virus he was not immune to. He began to dream the most vivid journey his mind was capable of unraveling. A restless monologue that would run through his head until his death.

He looked ahead of him. He was standing in darkness. He was standing outside of the dream. It slowly began to fade away, as if it was running from him. Each step forward it moved 2 steps away. He was not getting anywhere. He began to run. The cold air made his lungs ache. His chest filled with fire. His legs became weak. He stopped, as did the escaping dream.

He caught his breath and focused on the situation ahead of him. His mind was not as sharp as he wanted. The pounding of his heart against his chest drowned out his thoughts. He had control of the dream. Contro l of what was going on. Control he did not have in reality. He took a step backwards, then another. The dream came closer. He jumped forward. The dream backed off quickly. This cat and mouse game grew tiresome.

He started walking backwards. The dream followed, still keeping his distance. He turned and began to run. The dream chased. He ran faster. His lungs ached, his legs numbed. When he thought he couldn’t go on anymore the dream caught him. Engulfed him.

He stood on an endless black road lit by a single light post. Under the light stood a man in a trench coat. Cigar in his mouth, gun in his hand. The night glowed with an infinite number of stars and black holes. A silver veil of scattered clouds covered the moon’s pale face. A thousand stars of a thousand worlds in a thousand galaxies moved in sequence.

A light rain fell; filling the shallow puddles already formed in the miniature valleys of the paved cement. Off in the distance a single clap of thunder shakes the leaves of their translucent raindrops. The air was still except for the warm breath flowed from Mike’s mouth and slowly melted into the sky. He began to walk towards the light. Each step was as if he were walking on glass Christmas balls. Breaking them with each step, shattering the peaceful silence. The noise echoed through his mind as the glass tore through his feet.

As he approached the light his pace suddenly quickened. He was close enough to feel the heavy smoke of the stranger’s lit cigar on his face. As he entered the radiated circle of light his face is revealed to the man under the light. He stared for a minute and watched the embers slowly glow with each drag the stranger took. Occasionally a few ashes would tumble off the end of the cigar falling almost like a light snow. He became lost in the serenity of it. The column of smoke impelled from his mouth, the way the strangers face seemed to be bandaged in shadows, and the loose way the trench coat drifted in the slight breeze that had picked up.

"Why are you here?" His voice sounded so familiar to Mike. Yet his face remained encased in darkness despite the fact they were both trapped in the street light’s radiation. Only a few slight features were visible by the illuminating cigar.

Mike collapsed to his knees, his face shamefully tilted toward the road. He saw his reflection in one of the muddy pools of water. Tears running down his hardened face. His dreaded hair frozen at the tips. His pale face set off by his burning emerald eyes.

"Help me, save me" Mike pleaded. The man under the light lifted the enlightenment and placed it to Mike’s forehead.

The blast ricocheted off into the empty night sky, into the hills and valleys that protected the sins of humanity. A white light opened Mike’s eyes. Only to be closed by his dark room and the rhythmic music from his mounted speakers. As if he had floated to the surface then was drug back down into the abyss. His eyes closed again...

As the dream continued Mike finds himself in the place of the man under the light. The white noise from his room showered his ears. The black leather trench coat fitted to his body like a surgeon's glove. The gun melted into his palm, becoming an extension of his right hand. He stood there standing over his own lifeless body; he had begged for death and gotten it. Off in the distance footsteps of another traveler, crash upon his ears. It was his turn to become a savior. Time to infect someone else with the virus.

He awoke from this confused dream, gasping for breath of a stale and sealed tomb. The vision abruptly ended to a blaring fast paced song. He nearly leapt from his bed. He sat there thinking in the darkness. His psyche infected. The virus uploaded into the mainframe. He only turned the lights out to think. The dream was so vivid, so clear, but confusing. Not wanting to dwell on it, he pondered how he fell asleep at this hour. He turned off the CD player as if to punish it for his agitation. Blaming it possibly for the dream.

He sat quietly replaying the dream. It intrigued him so he pulled out a binder set-aside for poetry and scribbled in it as the dream was replayed again. He found it easier to write once he turned on the light which he pulled out of the attic to replace the damaged one of the previous day. Each ray of illumination stabbed him in the eye as reality was slowly forced back into him. When he finished he sat and stared at it for a few minutes, knowing that someday someone might read it. One sudden and desolating change had taken place; but a thousand little circumstances which, although they were done more tranquilly, might not have been less decisive.

Suddenly like a light house through the fog of his mind the phone rang.

On the second ring, "hello"

"hey what's up what are you doing tonight?" Pete probably asked him that on a daily basis.

The answer always seemed to be the same, "No plans."

"You want to do something…"

After a moment of silence, "Like what?"

"umm I don't know…want to go shoot pool?" Pete waiting for the answer to a question he already knew the answer too.

"Where is Lauren tonight?"

"Home thinking of me probably…I've had enough pointless sex for one week."

"enjoy it why it last..how about sending her my way?" No respect for women anymore.

"Sure whenever you want…"

"You paying for pool?"

"You driving…?"

"I think we got ourselves a plan here. Give me like half an hour I'll be over."

"yep no problem see you then."

Almost to the point of insanity and some how playing pool would probably fix everything. As Mike put his shoes on he thought to himself "cya then" Pete's internet jargon almost like a second language…cya l8r, lol, brb. He swore when he heard Pete talk he could see the letters in his mind they weren't words they were just symbols. He needed to get off the internet and join reality once in a while. Reality was a little harsh for Pete though.

Mike arrived at Pete's house much later than expected.

"What took you so long?"

"My car is a piece of shit…enough said."

"yeah it is."

"Fuck you bitch what are you driving?"

"You want to take this outside. Next to your piece of shit car."

"nah I am thinking about taking it to that telephone pole at 50 mph."

The pool hall was out of the way of anything else but they drove there because no one went there. A sanctuary from the smog of annoyance that surrounded their lives.

"yo we should of picked up Scott." The sarcasm filled the car.

"yeah we should of." It was so funny Mike almost lost control of the car he was laughing so hard. Scott use to hang out with them all the time until his presence became annoying. How easily it was to erase him so much easier than others.

They reached the pool hall avoiding any major collisions or other problems. Loser content was at a maximum that night. But at least they didn't know any of them. They had become pretty good pool players over the last year. But the point was not actually playing pool but the escape.

"Yo that girl over there is checked you out."

"No she isn't."

"No really she is look." Pete pointed at the girl trying not to make it obvious.

"Maybe I should go mack it with her." He knew he wouldn't he knew he couldn't but it was fun to talk about.

Mike's focus was not on pool though. The dream replayed in his head over and over. He could not shake the feeling of the gun pressed to his forehead. Nor could he shake the power he felt when he held the gun in his hand. The night continued as he tried to play it off that nothing was wrong.

"you ok there killah."

"yeah no problems." Pete instantly knew something was terribly wrong but decided to let it go for fear of a twenty minute bitch session about Amy.

The night came to its conclusion. Pete never asking what was wrong with Mike. Mike never wanting to tell him. But they both somehow knew.

Chapter

Mike rolled out of bed the next day after 2, "Too fucking early." No matter what time of day it always seemed to early for Mike to do anything. Not so much that his body was tired but that his mind was over worked and under paid.

Mike's mom appeared in the doorway. "You going to look for a job today?"

"Give it a good shot not making any promises. See what is on TV first." His mom found no humor in that nor anything he said. Mike never went to look for a job. But that was usual nothing new about that. But nothing was broken that weekend. Which was out of the ordinary. A 3 pack weekend summed it up. Pete was stuck with Lauren all weekend. Zoey still recovering from a concert on Friday night. He missed the time they spent together but he didn't have the money or the energy to go anymore. He knew he would hear all about it anyway.

Mike's thoughts of the dream continued. Maybe it was time to say something, change something. He sat back and watched too long. There was no one he could talk to about it no one that would understand. A weekend of loneliness gave him plenty of time to drive himself insane with thought. But he knew nothing would be different the next week would come and go and nothing would change nothing would happen because he could not handle it if it did.

Chapter

Mike sat with his head on the desk as the substitute teacher for Mr. Preston handed out the busy work for class. Everyone began to talk as Mike looked up and watched everyone. Never looking at the paper lying on his desk. Minutes went by as Mike looked around. He flipped the paper over and picked the pen up off his desk. He spent the rest of the period writing on the back of the paper.

The bell sounded ending class. The teacher collected the assignments from the students as the walked out the door. Mike approached the teacher while trying to leave.

"where is your paper?"

"It's on the desk…"

Mike slipped out of the classroom before the teacher got a chance to say anything else. She gave a dirty look as she walked over to where Mike was seated his paper lye on his desk. She picked it up and began to read…

"the chameleon sits on the tree branch hiding from the world looking up at the birds wondering why he can't fly…."

The teacher flipped the page over seeing that mike hadn't done anything on the other side. She crumbled it up and threw it into the trash can. She sat at Mr. Preston's desk writing him a small note…"The class was very well behaved…except for Michael Scheel who didn't do the assignment."

Chapter 6

Amy stood in front of her locker deciding what homework she would do later that night and what she would blow off until later. She had just come from cheerleading practice and was still wearing her uniform. The halls were usually empty but, just as she took one last look at herself in the mirror in her locker; she looked up to see Mike.

"Hey, Mike what are you still doing here?" She asked as he approached her.

Mike had been wondering the halls ever since the end of school. It had been another long day. Katie had been bothering him for a ride home every day. He dreaded the drive home.

"I had some work i needed to do." Which was of course a lie. These were the first words he had spoken to her in months. He needed to talk to Amy alone. People are always different around their friends. He wanted to talk to the real Amy if there even was one. Not a mirage induced by her fucked up psyche.

They both stood there and looked at each other for a long time. He thought they still could be good friends. She had her own thoughts and desires. During there relationship they shared a lot been through a lot of experiences that he would never forget. She had taken his virginity...his heart.... His soul. He taught her how to be an individual how to listen to her own feelings and not worry about others. She had taught him that love hurts.

That all changed, when they broke up, she became a cheerleader and started to hang out with the "preps" of the school. The guys with the nicest clothes and most money, and the girls who worked to get a free dinner every Friday night from a gullible guy. Mike found himself hanging out with the people who hated those kinds of people. The schools most elite group of unique and interesting people...in other words the ones who had been labeled freaks. The ones whom you had to take a second look at the catch all of their distinction. Amy had always hated the people hung out with. Her reasons never clear to Mike. They spent most of their time alone together.

He hoped somewhere in this cheerleader was the girl he had fallen in love with. The girl he wanted to spend every day of his life with. He hoped that she wasn’t really gone. He hoped somewhere in those beautiful brown eyes was that person, who knew who she was, knew what she wanted.

"What are you doing later?" He tried to break the silence. Tried to ease his thoughts before it hurt to think anymore.

"My boyfriend, Brian, hates it when i don’t watch him practice. "He says i’m good luck or something." A severed rabbit's foot for the soul. She spent an hour after practice to watch him. Like an obedient dog.

The same dream haunted him every night. With one slight variation. The word savior appeared throughout the dream...in the shadows...in the darkness of the black road.

A minute or two passed. Silence shattered by a broken bottle of rage. "Why do you put up with him, telling you what to do, and what to think, who not to hang out with." The words slipped out. Where had they come from?

She didn’t have an answer. She didn’t even look as though she thought about the question. She looked at the floor, not in shame, but just to avoid eye contact. Kept her insecurity covered by her painted eyelids so he couldn’t see her empty soul or attempt to fill it.

"What happened to us? We used to be friends, you use to know what you wanted, i never told you what to think or do." His voice became louder. What was he saying? Did he still have feelings for Amy?

"I don’t know Mike. I have to get going. Like i said he hates it..." Further action...He didn’t let her finish. Mike grabbed her by the arm. A million emotions surged through him although he was unable to define them. He looked around then pulled Amy into the girl’s bathroom.

He faced her to the mirror making her look at herself. "Look at what you have become." She smiled, played with a few strands of her flowing blonde hair for a second then looked at him through the mirror. "I'm popular, i have a boyfriend, friends who like me." She tried to convince herself more than him.

"A boyfriend who only liked you for the time you spent with him and i loved you for the time you couldn’t give me."

"A boyfriend who treats you like shit and friends who couldn’t care less what you think or do as long as it is what they’re doing." He spoke as to change her mind.

"You like that you are just a puppet, that you’re nothing more than a figurine hoping that he will think of you. That he will always think of you." it was not the first time he had thought those words, so they came out smoothly as if he recited them from a book. Somehow he knew he was, his binder that lay on his desk at home contained all of what he really thought. He never really knew all of what he was thinking but it was clearer on paper, later, when it was too late.

Who was he to change her? He was nobody, but it was time he became her savior. The dreamed replayed in his mind a thousand times this week. Every night the vision became increasingly clear. He had been chosen by somebody somewhere to solve what he thought was the downfall of a society that was becoming increasingly blind and deaf.

She stood there trying not to hear what he was saying. Everybody knew how her boyfriend treated her and in the back of her mind she knew too. She knew that she would be lost in the crowd. She kne w her stuck-up friends could replace her as easily as the next.

Amy who was still looking at the mirror finally began to turn around. He rested his arms on her shoulders turning her around slowly.

"Mike i was always glad you were there for me, but i’m happy." Temporary happiness that is never questioned can kill you or leave you blind. She kissed him on the cheek, sympathetically, to end the conversation. He thought about the first time that he met her. It was the first day of sixth grade. He was standing at his locker when she walked up and tapped him on his shoulder.

"Can you help me with my locker" He wondered to this day why she had asked him, when there were 30 people in the hallway. "No problem."

Now he stood in the girl’s bathroom wondering if he could help her. He leaned in reluctantly and kissed her on her lips. She stared into his eyes. He couldn’t change her.

"Why are you telling me all this?" she almost seemed amused.

"Because...i always thought you were better than them...and i loved you for that." These were the first words he had not thought out before, a conscious thought that found its way through the camouflaged words he was use to using. She leaned it and kissed his lips. She had blurred the line between love and lust and he hated her for it.

"Why did you do that?"

Then at once, without any kind of preliminary, in the most coarse, horrible way you could imagine unbuttoned her shirt revealing her lace bra. She tugged her shirt out from the waistband of her cheerleading skirt. She placed his hands around her rib cage, moving up to her lace bra, as he cupped her breast.

Her mouth moved to the crook of his neck. Her tongue searched his neck for imperfections. She kissed his earlobe making the hair on the back of his neck stand up. Her skirt puddled to her ankles. The line between fantasy and reality blurred. She undid his belt.

His hands without any knowledge from his mind began to explore her silk skin. His throat tightened, his lips dried. His body was tense with pleasure.

As Brian wiped the sweat off his face and placed back on his helmet he took a look around for Amy. He wondered what could have kept her, he knew she would show up to his practice. What could she be doing?

It turned from playful too forceful. Each becoming more enticed by the other. He felt her heart race from her thighs. His mind emptied. All the pain, the fear, the anxiety, all were pushed to his heals. He lifted her up on the sink. It became animal-like. This was an unknown experience to him. A blind faith that he hoped got him through it. He wanted to know what she wanted him to do but was too afraid to ask. He moved on instinct. Time stood still.

Chapter 7 (LATER)

She slid up her black panties as he quickly put back on his shirt. They had not say a word to each other, then finally. "I better get to Brian’s practice. He’s probably wondering where i am." She kissed him on his cheek before walking out the bathroom door.

What had just happened? He had given himself to her for nothing. Nothing had changed. CHECKMATE. He stood there with the buttons on his shirt crooked wondering if it was possible to have no soul. She still had not cut the strings. He knew she was afraid of falling to the ground. He finally understood the difference between a casual fuck and making love, unfortunately he wanted the second but got the first. He didn’t bother straightening his shirt or buckling his belt before exiting the bathroom. He saw her race down the hall and out the door, never looking back. If it was possible for one moment to predict the rest of your life this was it.

Mike headed for his car. As he walked out the front doors Pete and Lauren greeted him.

"Mike...what are you still doing here?" His arm reached from around her to acknowledge him.

"I just had some extra work to do." He hated to lie but what else could he say. That he just fucked Amy in the bathroom and it was the greatest feeling he’s ever felt yet he felt like shit. He wished he had it back and at the same time wished he had it a thousand times.

"Are you going to the game Friday?" Lauren interrupted his thoughts.

The game Friday he had forgotten..."i don’t know...i’m thinking about it. It’s a long way off."

"We’ll be there."

"We’ll i gotta get out of here...I'll probably see you guys around." As he walked away he realized that he hadn’t fixed his shirt or buckled his belt.

"What was wrong with him. " Lauren commented.

"I don’t know...i’m sure I'll here about it later though." Pete stared at Mike as he walked away. Lauren turned his face away from his focus and kissed his lips. He had forgotten what he was thinking. She had a way of doing that to him.

Chapter

The next morning the alarm goes off he reached over and turned it off. There was no way he was going to school. His mother peaked her head into his room. "Your going to be late for school."

"I'm not going I have ebola or something." His mother closed the door in disgust.

Mike spent the rest of the day sleeping. Seemed fitting after the events of the pervious day. He would have to go to school tomorrow. He wasn't looking forward to it.

The next morning came. The alarm clock sounded Mike slammed on it almost breaking it in half it probably wouldn't work right now. Another casualty to his temper.

(SKIP AHEAD)

Chapter 8 (FRIDAY NIGHT)

Pete and Lauren sat on the bleachers. Her hands buried in his lap. Public affection irritated Pete, but he put up with it. He was beginning to hate the idea of a relationship.

"Did you talk to Mike?" she said with an expressionless voice.

"No. I couldn’t get in touch with him." His voice was even with less emotion

"We’ll i guess he won’t be showing up tonight the game is almost over."

The parking lot was empty except for Mike standing by his car. The game had just ended and the fans poured from the gates to their cars. Mike headed for the field. As he walked towards the phone he noticed Amy in a long line of other students.

The football players were contained in the locker room while the coach complimented there losing effort.

"Need a ride home." Mike asked as he tapped Amy on the shoulder.

"I told my parents told me to call," she said as she looked around.

"I'm sure they’ll understand," he said putting his arm on her shoulder pointing her towards the parking lot.

"Okay...i guess"

They reached his car a minute later. He opened the car door for her and shut it as she got in. As he walked towards the back of the car. He bent down and reached inside his boot, pulling out a small switchblade.

He opened the car and slowly got inside. As they pulled from the high school, "Mike your going the wrong way."

TO BE CONTINUED…