He only came to me once before my adventure began. It was in a dream. Long hair the color of moonlight spilled out of the shadows from the hood of his long black cloak and two piercing blue eyes peered towards me. From only one look, I could see that his eyes were that of a predator and yet I sensed no fear in my heart as the space between us began to shrink and the man’s eyes began to take over. They were all I could see in the black abyss of where we stood.
Our eyes never left each others or dared to blink, as if by doing so the other would suddenly disappear. In my mind I knew it was a dream. I had fallen asleep beneath the thin covers of my twin-sized bed no more than a few minutes ago, anticipating the morning which would bring me closer to freedom. According to my birth certificate I was going to be eighteen years old and there was no one that did not understand that it was a significant year in every teenager’s life. The space between us finally disappeared entirely and mere inches apart I could feel his breath tousling the few stray strands of my hair that lay timid on my cheek like timid birds waiting for the first sign that it was time to take flight. A faint scent caught my nostrils and feeling my eyebrows tense, as I thought, they finally relaxed as I came to recall it.
It was blood.
I had never in my entire life bothered to wonder what blood smelled like and taken any opportunity to memorize the scent but the moment the man’s hot breath touched my face and I had dared to breathe it, I had known it to be what it was. My recognition triggered a flash of anger in the blue eyes that were diving deep into my soul and a pale hand shot out of the front of the robe and grasped my arm tightly. His hand felt like death and fear finally became to flood into my veins with adrenaline. I could feel myself being pulled towards him and the hood of the man leaned forward towards the tender flesh of my neck. My body went rigid with fear and I shut my eyes, anticipating the sensation of canines boring into my flesh when instead I felt a searing pain.
My scream of agony pierced the blackness and as the strange world began to be sucked away from me I heard his final words echoing in my mind.
I will have you…Meg…
The sharp, high-pitched sound of Meg’s own gasp as her body lurched up in bed brought her immediately out of her strange dream. She could feel the weight of the sweat on her body from the fear induced by her dream and looking down she saw her chest heaving for each breath. Throwing the covers aside, her feet slapped against the hardwood floor as she raced to the mirror over her dresser and tilting her head drastically to the opposite side of where she felt the burn, Meg felt her body relax to where her knees nearly gave out beneath her. It was just a dream. She was so stupid for ever thinking that her life might have extended to the extraordinary. Whatever higher power ruled the world, whether it be luck or God, they had already dealt her a good hand.
Why give her an adventure too?
Meg’s parents were both successful doctors who were madly in love with each other and madly in love with being good at what they did. They lived on the legendary Street of Dreams where multi-million dollar homes were built so that the rest of the world would know exactly where the wealthy lived and whom they wanted to be surrounded by. Meg would be lying if she said she did not enjoy the luxurious life but the constant flaunting of money and having to deal with new friends gawking at her house had turned into a chore by the time she was in third grade.
Money did not buy everything though. Meg was personally glad that she did not fit the stereotype that the rest of her neighbor’s children did. They were all stuck-up, cashmere wearing freaks with Prada bags.
Every. Single. Last. One of them. And this included the males.
Meg preferred to spend her time floating from one group to the next, associating herself only with people that she truly got along with. This trait had earned her the title of ‘social butterfly’ three times in the class yearbooks and, she could admit, that she was proud of that name. Because of her personality she had a great many friends that she could depend on and enough connections to fight her way to the top of the food chain if it so pleased her. Maybe this was why the ‘It’ crowd was so intimidated by her. If Meg snapped her fingers she could start a revolution of the lowest ranks to overthrow the traditional power of the wealthy and could crown herself queen of Excalibur High School.
Lucky for them Meg did not sink to their levels.
- - - ©- - -
Meg dragged her feet as she descended the spiraling staircase to the main floor of her house where the floor mainly consisted of temperature-controlled marble and groaning a good morning as she entered the kitchen she sat herself down heavily on the plush stool occupying part of the space on the side of the wooden island of her kitchen and rested her forehead against the cool, flat surface of the counter. It had just been a crushing blow to her imagination to know that it had been a mere dream and rotating her head slowly so her chin rested on the counter she could see her mother throwing worried glances back at her daughter.
The woman could stay firm through doomed operations and come out successful and even wrestled with patients over the course of the last decade but when it came to her daughter she was always on the verge of collapsing into tears if Meg showed even the slightest sign of stress or irritation. Her heart deep down was as thin as water.
Meg could hear her high heels clicking on the floor as her mother trotted over in her knee length business dress and glancing up she restrained herself from rolling her eyes.
She already looked like she was about to cry.
“Ho-honey? Is everything alright, dear? Were you rejected by a…boy?” She said the word boy as if it were some big secret that she was now eligible to be associated romantically with the opposite sex. It was normal for Meg now though, and to hear her mother list off crazy assumptions and go off into her own romantic story was now humorous. There was no one else she could have adopted her imagination from than her mother. Meg’s father was a wall of muscle and authority that only had a booming laugh and stories of drunken college buddies. Never one to sit down and daydream of things that could not be. Reeling herself in after drifting off into her own thoughts, Meg tuned back into her mother who had changed topics rather quickly.
“Dear you really should get that hair cut. All the girls today are getting it cut short for summer and you would look so good.” Meg blew out her cheeks in agitation as her mother pulled back Meg’s hair into a ponytail and began to play with it. She had never been a very girly girl even though she was the picture of the ideal female of form and face for the modern generation. Natural, honey blond hair hung just beneath her shoulder blades, highlighting her deep blue eyes that looked like sapphires against her fair skin. Meg had a naturally high metabolism that meant she had naturally shapely legs without being scrawny twigs, a slim waist, and a considerable bust.
Nothing like the celebrities getting their breasts done once every blue moon but in comparison to the girls who were still blossoming in her grade, Meg was like a goddess of the chest area.
A swift knock at the door signaled the arrival of Meg’s distraction and excusing herself she gracefully slipped out of her mother’s hold and moved to the door. In her dad’s plaid pajama pants rolled over the top to fit on her waist and white tank top, she looked ready for a day indoors but as she opened the door, it was clear she was not going to get what she wanted.
((PM me to continue. I usually don't write this much so don't expect it and I don't expect you to write this much either. If you do not like my character I have a lot of RPCs you can choose from. Just use caution while browsing.))
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