Saturday, September 10, 2011

Wandering Stars: Sneak Preview!

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Wandering Stars: Preview
 Copyright 2011 Marlon Pierre-Antoine. May not be reproduced in any manner aside from providing a link to this page.

    They say love is blind...but it isn't. Love is perfect sight. Love is the ability to see a person, I mean really see him-his strengths, his weaknesses, his flaws, all his past triumphs and mistakes-and view that person not as the world says you're supposed to see him, but as you see him-as that special someone you know you will always embrace, body and soul, no matter what anyone else says or thinks
    I know I can't tell anyone what I've been through. I know they wouldn't understand. They don't see him the way that I see him. All they know is the legend, the darkness. They don't know the inner beauty, the warmth and the joy more intense than anything I ever thought was possible to experience.
    They don't know the truth behind the name.
    My angel.
    My only.

    Sometimes, it was easy to forget just how much I enjoyed being outside.
    The cool, damp air kissed my skin as I stepped outside onto the back porch. Moving towards the edge and leaning against the rails, my bare feet pressing against the still wet wood floor paneling as I did, a smile crept upon my face. I was enamored with the way the air smelled just after rainfall, humid and earthy, charged with an almost intangible current of force, as if the atmosphere itself was tense with anticipation of things to come.
    With a deep breath in I looked upward at the night sky, gazing at the broad, midnight blue canvass filled with dark clouds that covered the moon and the stars soothing white glow. Among them I saw a brief flash of lightning, followed a moment later by the low rumble of thunder. Exhaling slowly, watching the mist of my own creation dissipate into its surroundings, I felt that the air was right to be anxious. This storm wasn't over yet.
    Walking inside, I glanced at the clock sitting on top of the television in the living room. 8:44 PM. Where had the time gone? It was all too easy to lose a whole day sitting at the computer, but it was too early to go to bed, even for me. Besides, there was something I needed to do tonight, if only I could remember what...
    Indigo barked, and then glared at me disapprovingly as I looked down to meet his eyes. Of course! Mom wouldn't be home until late, so it fell on me to take the dog out for his evening walk.
    I grinned, putting on my best baby-talk voice: "Oh, yes puppy! You didn't think mommy would forget about you, did you?"
    In the background I heard the stern voice of a TV weatherman placing all of Daytona Beach under a thunderstorm watch until tomorrow morning, and urging his viewers to remain inside their homes with shut windows and doors until it passed, but I moved to grab the dog harness from the coffee table anyway. After all, which was more dangerous, a chance that I might get wet or a jilted, restless Great Dane in an apartment filled with glass and breakables?
    While I weighed out the two scenarios in my mind, I felt the unmistakable form of a dog's nose pushing impatiently against my leg. Indigo stood, tail swinging wildly back and forth, but otherwise completely still except for the way his eyes darted back and forth from the dog collar clenched in my hand and up to me.
I smiled. "All right, puppy. But we can't stay out long. And if I get struck by lightning, you're paying my hospital bills!"
* * *
    Indigo lead the way as we crossed the street that separated my apartment from the ocean, moving quickly down the sandy hill to the beach below. The Dane strutted along happily, with me behind him, immersed in his own world, sniffing the ground for the scent of other dogs and harassing stray hermit crabs that scuttled by him, seemingly oblivious to the uneasy scene around us. The tumultuous Atlantic waves that crashed against the beach, the churning clouds that continued to blot out the sky like ink spilled across parchment, robbing us of what little moonlight shone down from the sky to begin with.
    No thunder, I remarked to myself as I sprinted forward after Indigo haplessly as he pursued a rogue pelican down the beach. Usually the sky was bursting with roars of thunder just before the outbreak of a storm-that is why they're called 'thunderstorms'. But out here there was no thunder to be heard at all. In fact, aside from the steady crashing of the tides against the shore and the petter-patter of Indigo's paws against the sand as he ran, the beach was still and calm.
    Too calm. I didn't like this. Something wasn't right.
    "Let's go, Indie," I said, tugging at the dog's leash, who had stopped running, opting to sit in the sand instead. But he refused to move. Indigo's one hundred and thirty pound frame was planted firmly in the ground as he stared straight ahead, unmoving, unflinching.
    There were two of them, standing roughly fifty feet away from me under the cover of a long beach front pier. Their faces were cloaked by the sprawling gray clouds above us, and by the shadow cast by the pier itself. But both were tall, slender and seemingly male figures, each at least a head taller than my meager five feet and three inch height. One of them was sporting long, straight hair that blew with the wind, the other-who was slightly shorter than the long haired figure in front of him-with a shoulder length mane that seemed wavy, almost curly, even though the blur of the shadows.
    They were speaking to each other. I strained to listen to what they were saying, but I couldn't eavesdrop any better than I could see them. It didn't feel right, being here. Only the faintest traces of sound from their conversation made their way to me, but they rung against my ears as they did, sending chills down my spine as an uneasy feeling formed in the pit of my stomach.
    I didn't know for how long I'd been standing there when I began to notice the beads of water pouring down from the sky all around me, battering my skin like a hail of pellets. How long had I been standing out here in the rain? Why couldn't I pull myself away? I felt a strong tug at my wrist; it was Indigo, struggling against his leash. No longer staring stoically at the strangers under the pier but desperately trying to make off in the opposite direction, whimpering as he strained against his collar and pulled taut the leash it was attached to.
    He's afraid, I realized. And then I realized that I was afraid, too.
    I snapped back at the leash, the dog meekly returning to my side.
    "Calm, Indie," I said, kneeling down in the sand to stroke the dog's back. "It's going to be fine," I cooed to him, though I wasn't sure if I believed my own words. Still, I couldn't just leave now, I had to get closer, had to find out just who those figures in the distance were and why I was so drawn to them.
    I began to tiptoe closer to the pier, with a reluctant Indigo a full leash-length behind me. Even through the storm, with wind whirling and thunder breaking around me. I noticed that I was beginning to hear their words more clearly. Every step making some syllable louder, more audible, but also more painful, each note bringing a fresh sting to my ear as it entered.
    I stopped when it became too much to bear, standing no more than fifty feet from the two men, most of the details and features of their forms still cloaked by the shadow cast by the bridge.
    One of them, who I could see now had long, smooth pale blond hair, raised his arms to the sky as he spoke. I couldn't make out any of the words but the sounds that made their way through the storm's thunderous filter hissed at my ears, sending a wave of pain coursing through my head. I bit down on my lip until I tasted blood, trying to suppress my urge to scream. Something in the back of my mind raged at me, stirred by the torture of the strangers' words, my subconscious fight-or-flight instinct leaping to the foreground, urging me to go, to run, to leave as fast as I could before the people-or whatever they were-under the pier became aware of my presence. But my feet refused to move, standing as still as concrete in the soaking wet sand. Something was compelling me to stay, overcoming my instincts and my better judgment; I couldn't leave now, not until I knew more about just what was unfolding before my eyes, and neither the churning tempest above or the stiff, unnatural aura all around me could prompt me to leave.
    The other man, whose only distinguishing feature I could make out was his short curly black hair, lashed forward at the taller figure, and even through the shadows I could see his face contorted in anger. He cried out, with a voice that commanded nature itself to be silent as he spoke. And it was.
    This time, I understood him as clearly as if he were just in front of me.
   They were beautiful, really, melodic and charged with passion, like a song of primal rage. I listened to every torturous word burn my senses as my mind struggled to process what it was hearing.
    Everything turned to black.
    The last thing I remembered was the cool, grainy cushion of the sand as I collapsed into its embrace.

1 comment:

  1. Love the Blog and I love chapter 1 , It definitely has my attention !! Great writing , cant wait to read more !!
    Crystal Trent Dotson