I remember these bricked cream sandpaper-like walls. If these school walls could talk, they would echo the words of those who never really knew what they were doing yet acted like they did, echo words of complex jargon that would always fly over everyone's head. If these walls could talk, maybe they would echo my words, words of worry, panic, and confusion. If these walls could talk, they would tell me anecdotes of students, mistakes, successes, and my...
The group split off, believing it was a better idea to cover ground individually of where this Devil could be. Now I'm left alone. I wander these halls. I wander these halls every day, trying not to meet a stranger's eyes, but doing so carelessly. Meeting people's eyes would always scare me, from childhood till now, it would always scare me. Peering into their judging iris, the way their cornea would mirror me, mirror me and my...
It has been months since I have been back at school. Deciding to drop out wasn't my decision, yet I had no objections. I remember something. Something I would always do at school. Following that feeling it took me to a certain room. Its walls too were the same bricked cream sandpaper walls, being met with soft ebony wood flooring that reflected any semblance of light.
Easel circles the center of the room as if it were some occultic symbol. Maybe it was symbolic for some, but nothing more than the usual sight for regulars. I sat down on one of the chairs, facing the easel. Without realizing it my arm picked itself up, painting with spiking hues of red and black. I was lost in this trance, painting, painting like I used to.
The rough brush strokes slowly convening into a central image. What image? I have no idea, no clue, not a thought. Why was I here? Why was I painting? There was a force in this area, an aura that drove me to paint.
"Nicola? What are you doing here?" A roughened feminine voice chimed. "No, seriously, you're such a weirdo dude." She exclaimed, playing with her woody curled hair, hair that would only reach her chin, yet still manage to hide her piercing brunette eyes. An oversized hoodie hiding her small stature, and rounded glasses that would hug her face. Her voice always sounded rough, like sandpaper rubbing a child's vocal cords. Yet it was still soft and partially soothing to the ear.
"I... I don't know actually." She sits beside me, picking up a brush with her frail damaged hands. Her hands were always damaged, roughened, pealing. Yet whenever I used to hold it, it was always soft, velvety to the touch
"You haven't been here in a while... What made you change your mind?"
"Maybe I just felt... A little nostalgic."
"Ah, still thinking about her? It has been a while."
"Yeah, I guess it has."
"Yeah, been a while, and still your painting skills still suck." She said pointing at what is an honest attempt of painting. "Hey, weird question, have you ever woke up weirdly?"
"Weirdly? What- What do you mean?"
"Like... Y'know, when you wake up in the morning feeling all doom and gloom? Like imagine you went to bed, got the perfect time of 8 hours of sleep every night, but still felt awful. " Still confused I glanced over at her painting, it was this brazen bull emerging from the horizon. She backs off, sitting down after taking a hint.
"Why are you painting a bull?" Her painting was beautiful, roughed, and with sharp red hues, paired with soft brush strokes that brought this boldness into her painting. The sun was painted beautifully, a bright centerpiece that enthralled me. However engraved on the sun was this, spiral of blended rose reds and daphadile yellows.
"Well, it came to me in a dream. Like it called out to me. " She pauses, her mind fixated on something. "Hey, what are you doing here anyway? You were pretty much gone once your parents practically drove you out." I can't tell her, can't I-no that would be too risky.
"Sorry..." I blanked. I realized due to how long it was, I completely forgot what her name was. Whilst I knew who she was, both a friend of Akira and I. She was always there for the both of us.
"Damn, dude." She backs away smoothly "You really forgot my name, right?" She always was emotionally perseptive Being able to see through the tallest walls people would erupt. A core part of our entourage, a core part of us, yet I forget.
"I'm sorry. Like I really a, it's just-"
"No, I get it. I really do." She hands me a piece of paper, numbers haphazardly scrawled on it. "Hey, once you remember me, call me, alright?" She starts walking, walking into the distance. I wish I remember her name. There was an atmosphere, this feeling, a feeling that confused me. It made me wonder: did I really know anyone at the school? No, not even school, just anyone?
I look at these people. Their unconscious eyes avoided mine. I never liked meeting people's eyes, the pure intimacy gained from peering into another person's eye. It scared me, scared me, scared me enough to never meet anyone's eyes. I would avoid staring at people's eyes. Rather staring at their face, their clothes, and the fits they had on. And their ...Well, necks. Anything to avoid eye contact. Yet for the first time, I looked at her eyes, and it didn't scare me. Something must be weird with me.
All this thinking left me exhausted, wandering soullessly I trudged on. Even If I get tired I must remember to stay alert. Shiori told me: "Now that you've had contact with a fallen angel. Heavenly beings can see you, normally you would've been invisible to them. However, now that's changed. " I could be seen by them. As much as I tried thinking. I felt this sloth overwhelm me. To the point, I felt like passing out-
Where am I again? Is this a dream? The sky was gone, along with the stars. I looked down, the floor was gone. Every aspect that made reality real, was suddenly gone. Choking. I felt my throat clog, no air, can't breathe, can't breathe, can't breathe. I gnaw at my throat, scratching. Why? why, can't I breathe?
"You ever heard of the idea, that you can never really die in a dream?" An ominous voice booms in my ear. "You wanna test that theory?"
The floor ends up opening, transforming into a plummeting fall, the sky, and the city all blurring into nothing but a smear. Am I falling?
Falling... My body felt limp, as air brushes past.
I approach the concrete swiftly, imagining my body becoming a blur, a smear that would splatter as I meet the concrete. No, this is a dream, right? Those in a dream can only think they're dying right?
"Sometimes, the brain is tricked by dreams. A death so real, that it could kill?"
Is that true? "Are, you telling the truth?"
"I have no reason to lie, really I don't."
"Then... Then face me, tell that to my face-"
A black background, a void of nothingness. A man, his face was sharp, a careless face. Long luscious silver hair, met with blood-red markings on his face, trailing from his face, all the way down his muscular body. Finally, golden bull horns sprout from his metallic hair. All covered in a soft cloth that closely hugged him. So this is what a demon looks like... Did they really have to be this, attractive?
"Well, now we meet. Is this what you wanted?" He sat down, resting his chiseled toned body on his golden throne.