Gravity (12 page)

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Authors: Amanda Miga

Tags: #lonely, #love story, #alien, #love triangle, #sanctuary, #red, #telepathy, #gravity, #hybrid, #crush, #guardian, #grey, #gay teen, #dream and reality, #shadow demon, #triangle love story, #attraction power, #triangle relationships, #boy love, #demon and angel, #teen and young adult, #teen 16 plus, #3 boys, #auric power, #guardian of hybrids

BOOK: Gravity
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"You need a special
key," she says.

A lock
appears
below her navel.
Right. A key. "I can get one from town. I'll be right
back."

"Hurry," she says. "I
don't know how long I can wait."

I climb out the window like Cedric does and
run to town. It's dark and I know I can't take too long. I have to
take her home before her father gets angry. I check the hardware
shop, but they're closed. All the shops are closed. I glance at my
watch. I'm running out of time. I shake the door handle at the
locksmith. I can't believe I'm going to miss my first time to make
love with my Goddess. I peek in the window—the key I need is
hanging on the wall. I ball my fists. If I breaks in and leaves
money on the counter it would be okay, right?

I look at
my
watch—it's too late. She's
probably left by now. A light turns on behind me.

An antiquities
shop appears with
a large
painted
We're
open
sign in the window. They
might have the key. I can get a key for next time.

I enter the
shop and
my vision blurs. I
remove my glasses. Somehow it’s the opposite when I have them on; I
can see without them. I fold them into my pocket and take a look at
my dream environment. Suddenly looking for a key seems to be of no
importance. Figuring out the strange environment feels like a
priority. A lamp flickers with every step on the creaky floor. The
ticking of wall clocks nearly cover the wall if it weren't for the
landscape paintings dominating the other half. Cluttered table tops
on either side of me make a narrow aisle. I like antique shops.
They hold objects that were once precious to someone. Generations
of history held in such a small space. I wonder about how far some
of these objects came to sit on these shelves. How many hands they
pass through to get here?

I
pass a large mirror and for a split
second I thought I saw someone else staring back at me, but looking
again it’s my own reflection without my glasses. I can see myself
clearly. My eyes are the same color as before, but there's
something there like they're deeper than they seem. I touch my face
to make sure the perfected version of myself is actually me.
Wish I was like this in real
life.
I move a few hairs from
my face. Even in a dream I need a haircut.

I
continue down the aisle were a boy
around my age looks at a broken hand mirror.
Seven years bad luck, but maybe the seven years ended
with the old object.
I notice
the reflection of the boy’s face in the mirror. Abstract from the
cracks, the boy's green eyes are very attractive.

A man I hadn't noticed before appears behind
the counter. He looks up and smiles at me. The man's eyes are out
of this world; changing colors like a pinwheel. I approach the
counter, watching the transaction between the beautiful people.
They look like mirror images of each other only one older than the
other. The texture of their black hair reminds me of feathers. An
image of a crow comes to mind.

The boy
smile
s and decides he'll take
the mirror. The man gives him a photo. The boy thanks the man and
brushes pass me. Our eyes meet briefly. A strange sensation washes
over me. A force pulls me to follow, I almost lose my
balance.

The black
haired boy turns around
and
thankfully waves at the man. The attraction is instant. That face
something I must sketch. The boy leaves and I'm left with a longing
that lasts only for a moment. I want to follow him, but the man
behind the counter speaks.

"Don't worry,
Dash you'll get to meet him soon." His voice is soothing, yet
there's a depth to the sound that makes my chest thump.

The haze from
the boy dissipates. I take in the details of the man. He looks
young, but for some reason I can’t explain, I know he’s much older
than he looks. I focus on the man's dilating pupils.
He knows things
. The strange eyes hold knowledge unknown to
me.

I want to know
these things
.

The rest of the man's face is beautiful—if a
man can be beautiful, this man certainly is. There’s an aura about
him. He's a figure of authority of some kind. He’s to be feared for
his power, yet there's a gentleness and kindness about him.
Grandeur superseded this man's body.

"You do that
well."

There
i
s something in the
shopkeeper's voice that calls to me. Its pleasing sound travels to
an embarrassing area of my body. Only my Goddess has ever affected
him that way.

"I call it
scanning."

That makes sense to me because my eyes take
everything detail in with precision and its copied to memory like
taking a picture, only its more than what an average person
remembers. I can also draw from a person a conclusion; hints and
clues about a person just by looking close enough at the details
within the details. It’s similar when I sketch too. I can see
things three dimensionally without having to see the other parts.
I'm able to invent the rest to perfection.

"All of your
senses are
hyper-sensitive.
You observe and absorb more than others. You see the world
differently.
You can use more cognitive training, though.
With that, you'll be able take the
information you receive and make them absolute. Eventually you'll
manifest what you imagine easily and precisely. You're very special
Dash."

I know
that I'm different, but not special.
I'm always in my own world and cause things to happen when I get
emotional. I never imagined I'd get better at it.

"I'm Red." The
man has a handsome smile.
"You've been obsessing about a
drawing of yours recently—your
Goddess
."

My face burns up. How does he know about
that?

"How would you like to meet her in real
life?"

The drawing
in
my thoughts suddenly
appears with eyes. I've never drawn her with eyes. I could never
get them right.

"I'm not done," Red smiles. My imagination
explodes when the memory of my drawing turns into a real person.
Her eyes are so captivating. Lips so kissable it makes my mouth
water. Her soft chestnut hair bounces when she moves. She smiles
and it's gentle; a kind face that sends my heart racing. She
disappears from my thoughts like wind blowing delicate petals
away.

"She'
s real, Dash. I need
you to trust her when she comes for you. She needs your
help."

I nod. I'll meet her. I'm excited but I have
to contain it or I may break an object in the shop. I place his
hands in my pockets. It's a little hard to breath. My body is so
hot.

"Tell me how do you feel?" Red says.

I
shrug.

"Don't be afraid to
express yourself outwardly. You'll be very good at it, I
promise."

I
used to keeping to myself. I'm not
sure what to say to this magnificent man.

"I have some
things for you.
Check your
pocket." A hard circular object is suddenly at my fingertips.
Smooth on one side and etching on the other. I pull out a pocket
watch. "Objects tell stories, Dash. The very essence of them will
help you collect the information you need."

"What?" I open
the ticking watch.

The lights flicker and Red closes his eyes.
"One more thing."

I suddenly have a headache. A dizzy spell
forces me to shut my eyes. My hand clamps the watch. Something
feels like it's pushing through my head. The pressure is so sudden.
A second wave of repeated pressure crashes inside of my brain. A
force makes its way through, filling my head like when I haves a
panic attack. The pressure subsides when my skull reaches its
limit. I open my eyes. I oddly feel lighter for having gained
something.

"What was that?"

“I won’t be
contacting anyone for a while. The last of my ability is yours to
use.” Red’s eyelids look heavy. “You’ll find your senses
sharper.”

“I don’t
understand.”


Yes, you do,
Dash. I've given you what little I have left. Make use of your
power. The other things are in my journals. Violet will show
you."

"
Violet. Is that her
name?"
My lips curl at the
real image of her in my mind compliments of Red. "Journals? You
want me to read them?"

"I think you
would get a lot of use out of them." A trickle of blood blooms on
his forehead. The lights flicker and Red falls back behind the
counter and hits the wall.

"Are you okay?"
I lean over the counter.

Blood drips
down his face and Red's body goes rigid. "You better get ready
because she'll be here soon." Red's eyes close and his face
dissolves with my surrounds into a white void.

I open
my eyes. My body is over-heated and
my t-shirt is drenched in sweat. My tongue is too dry to lick my
chapped lips. I sit up and comb my fingers through my damp hair.
The clock on the nightstand says I've only been asleep for a few
minutes.

Violet.

I reach
for a drawing pad. My Goddess has
eyes after all.

My
pencil moves upon the paper, shading
in her big earthy eyes. Not a single stroke is a mistake; every
line I make is where it should be. She’s come to life with these
eyes. She’s real. There is nothing more beautiful than this
girl.

“Violet. I love
you.”

Chapter Thirteen

 

Alex

Gabriel is preoccupied with the smell of flowers perfuming the air.
I watch him peel back his hood and his nose sniffs the air like a
dog. He likes flowers? —pretty weird for a kid who smells like the
locker room after practice. A row of pine trees lining the street
takes his interest. Someone named Joshua lives up another block.
This Josh person was his friend, but something happened. I see a
door dividing them in his thoughts, but can’t see why this image is
the source of the broken friendship.

His mouth twists and his brow knots between
his eyes as another image of Joshua comes, only this time Joshua is
reaching for him. This kid wanted to touch him and Gabriel doesn’t
want him too. Things happen when Gabriel touches people. My eyes
widen—this freaky kid has done lot of things with a lot of people.
At a young age this kid was doing some nasty shit. Maybe his friend
knew that. Maybe his friend wanted a piece of the action. Is
Gabriel Black gay? No, he’s not, but he’s done things anyway
without wanting to. This kid is confusing.

I recede out of his head when our eyes
connect. His hood is pulled forward to hide his face again. My
presence noticed like a burglar setting off an alarm. I've got to
learn to tip-toe, especially around a mind like Gabriel's—there's
so much to look at.

"This is it."
Violet stop
s in front of a
large suburban house with all the lights on. The front door isn't
even open and I can hear the voices from the street. From the look
of all the toys scattered across the lawn, I assume this was either
a day care or the family causing the racket inside is a big
one.

I follow
Violet's climbing the steps while
Gabriel sits at the bottom of the porch well away from us. I keep
close to Violet since Gabriel
weirds
me out.
She smells nicer anyway.

A small child,
no more than four years-
old
opens the door in a yellow dress with one red shoe and one black
shoe. Behind her, family mayhem; a table filled with food and no
one eating. It looks like its dinnertime only everyone is out of
their seats. I thought I saw someone throw a chair.

"Hi, is Dash home?"
Violet asks the little girl.

Dash? Is that a real name?

"Yep." The child says as she closes the
door.


Don’t worry
she’s getting him.”
I reassure
Violet.

A slim weak
looking kid with untidy brown hair flopping over one eye and
lopsided glasses opens the door. He looks familiar.

Violet
recognizes the boy but in a way I've never seen in someone's mind
before. She sees light around bodies. There something about the
aura that she sees confirming that they are who they are. That's
how she recognized Gabriel and me.

"Dash Carver. I'm
Violet Reyes."

The kid
stares at her blankly. The lack of
emotion on his face is the opposite of what's happening in his
head. I'm surprised that Dash recognizes her too. He had a dream
with her just like I did. He remembers everything. My dream was
vague, but this kid experienced it more vividly.

He
admires how beautiful she is using
words like symmetrical and well-formed. I'd just say she's hot. The
kid assumes he loves her, which is ridiculous—they just met. I'm
not worried because he’s a nerdy sad kid. I try suppressing a laugh
but it slips out as I sway a little closer to Violet.

Dash spots
Gabriel and recognizes him from his dream too. Gabriel looks at
him, but no recognition is indicated. The kid doesn't seem to think
the same for me, but I can swear that I've seen Dash
before.

The awkward kid pushes up his glasses. "I
assume Red is real too?" The kid feels unworthy and averts his eyes
from Violet. He wants to move his hair but he decides to hide
behind it. This kid has no self-esteem.

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