Young Writers Society

"“Normal is an ideal. But it’s not reality. Reality is brutal, it’s beautiful, it’s every shade between black and white, and it’s magical. Yes, magical. Because every now and then, it turns nothing into something.”

― Tara Kelly

Chapter One- Peyton Grayson-- The Freak

It was a particularly hot summer’s day. The sun was beating down on the small town of Salem’s Corner. People had long since given up hope of trying to tempt in a breeze through their open windows and had turned on their air conditioning.

All except for one home. Peyton Grayson lounged on her bed with her window thrown wide. A soft, hot breeze, the only one that seemed to exist, came in through the window and ruffled her long, inky black hair that was thrown behind her shoulder as well as the pages of the books propped up in front of her.

She was so absorbed in her book that she barely even felt the breeze. The only thing that moved other than her hair was her amber eyes, or when she needed to turn the page, her fingers.

Peyton couldn’t even hear the sounds of a group of kids laughing as they walked past her house on their way to the small river that ran through Salem’s Corner. Nor did she hear their discussion, which evidently was about her.

“So that’s the house of that freak you told me about?” The girl who asked made no attempt to lower her voice as she spoke, even as she spotted the open window, beyond which Peyton was lounging.

“Yep,” another girl from the group replied, tossing her sun-bleached hair behind her shoulder. “Peyton Grayson.”

“Rumor is her mom went crazy after her father tried to kill her,” yet another of the group said. That was all of the conversation Peyton would have been able to hear, had she even been listening, for they turned the corner next to her house and went out of sight.

However, the rumor was true. Peyton didn’t care what people thought of her though. She had become immune to the looks and jeers long ago. There wasn’t any point in denying the fact that her father was, in fact, in prison for the attempt on her mother’s life. Nor did she try to hide the fact that her mother had indeed gone insane and was locked up indefinitely in St. Patterson’s Institute for the Incurably Insane.

No, Peyton had made peace with both of these facts at a young age, albeit with much support from her loving Grams who had raised her since the incident in question.

Peyton was a loner, mostly because, like the kids who had passed by, people thought she was a freak. After all, who could have a murderer for a father and an insane woman for a mother, and still be perfectly normal themselves? Peyton however, was also used to this and preferred to be by herself anyways. Her best friend is, and always has been, a book. She loved to delve into the black and white world of the written word. You could hardly ever find her without her nose buried in a book, and therefore, lost to the world.

Peyton let out a sigh as she turned the final page in the book she was reading; she always hated to finish a good book. Closing it gently, she turned to look out her window at the sweltering summer’s day. The grass, which was usually bright green and swayed in the breeze, was patched thoroughly with brown not only in her yard, but also in the neighboring yards as well. This was most likely due to the longest drought in Salem’s Corner history. It hadn’t rained a drop since the beginning of May, nor did the bright, cloudless blue sky show any signs that a good, long rainstorm would be coming their way soon.

Peyton now heard the sounds that she had been oblivious to just moments before; children laughed in the deserted streets, running through them while chasing each other and screaming in happy delight. The sun beat down on them, and she was sure that soon, they would be heading back inside to their cool, cold homes.

Peyton didn’t mind the heat, she never had. She much preferred to be sweltering hot than even to be the least bit cold.

Sitting up, she picked up the book off of her bed and stuffed it into a large bag. It was one of those big, reusable ones from the grocery store. The words ‘reduce, reuse, and recycle’ were printed in large, green letters with the recycling sign on top of them. The bag had about ten library books stuffed inside of it, all of which Peyton had read through in the course of a week.

Swinging the bag over her shoulder, and picking up her library card from off of the dresser, Peyton walked out of her summery room and into the frigid temperature of the hallway. She shivered as goosebumps appeared on her arms, and hurried through the hallway, looking for her Grams.

She found her in the kitchen, sipping a glass of iced tea as she read the daily newspaper. Peyton’s Grams was a tiny, rather wrinkled woman with nearly pure white hair. Her hands shook horribly as she folded the paper and set it down on the table, along with her glass. While she might have appeared in all ways to be very old, her eyes were quite the opposite. They were a kind and vivid blue, but they looked quite young and were as sharp as ever. There wasn’t something that Grams couldn’t see.

Her Grams looked up at her as she entered the kitchen, her blue eyes twinkling kindly as she gave her a smile.

“I was just about to go to the library,” she told her Grams, “if that’s alright with you.”

“Yes, that’s fine,” her Grams said. “Just be careful, you know the nut-jobs in this town.” Her Grams gave her a knowing smile.

Peyton gave her an answering smile before kissing her on the cheek. She knew perfectly well that the only ‘nut-jobs’ in this town were her and her parents, but she wasn’t about to speak her mind on the matter. Her Grams had always had a firm belief that Peyton wasn’t affected by her parents’ actions. Peyton however, wasn’t so sure about that yet.

Outside, the heat intensified, mostly because now the sun was beating down on her directly. She didn’t mind. She liked the way the sun caressed her face as it shone in the brilliant, cloudless blue sky above.

Her black hair seemed to be flecked with purple as the sun reflected off of it. Peyton is, in truth, a very pretty girl. Her reputation as a freak however, diminished any chance of anyone seeing it in her.

The walk to the library wasn’t a relatively long one. Although Peyton made it longer for herself by taking as many backstreets as she could to avoid as much of the public eye as she possibly could. Although she could handle the jeers and looks, watching people both turning and walking in the opposite direction from her, ducking into the nearest shop or business, or even crossing the street just to avoid walking by her was something that she just couldn’t ignore. They all looked at her as if she would either murder their entire families, or as if she would just go berserk.

Peyton was able to handle a lot of things, but this wasn’t one of them. If they were talking behind her back, she could at least pretend not to hear them, but seeing them act like that, it wasn’t possible to ignore.

So Peyton avoided as much of the town as possible to avoid seeing them run away in terror, and to save herself from having to feel like she was more of a freak than she already felt. The library loomed over her after her walking about a half mile from her home.

It was a large building, which was strange for such a small town like Salem’s Corner. Pushing open the large, wooden double doors with top-to-bottom glass, she entered the cool, silent atmosphere of the library.

The librarian gave her a small wave and smile as she came in, mostly because the library was empty and there was no chance of anyone seeing her. Mrs. Sivon, the woman who ran the library, was fairly new in town, only having come a few years ago. She didn’t think Peyton looked like a psycho serial killer, but didn’t pretend to think otherwise in the company of the town.

Peyton handed her the bag of books, and while she checked everything back in, walked around the library, browsing the shelves for something she had yet to read. She had nearly read everything that interested her from this library, which left her to reread books that she’d already read. However, just a little ways down one of the shelves, a series of new books had just been put on the shelves, their covers still shiny and devoid of fingerprints and scratches.

Peyton grabbed all six of them off of their shelf and carried them to the check-out counter, thinking that they’d suffice for another week of summer reading. Mrs. Sivon was scanning them and placing them in her bag, when she raised an eyebrow towards the plated glass and wood doors behind her.

Her curiosity peaking, she turned to look and was shocked to see, standing just behind the doors, what looked to be a grown man, wearing a black hoodie with the hood pulled up to hide his face. Right after she saw him, he turned quickly and disappeared from view through the doors.

“Don’t understand how he’s out in that heat wearing that thing,” Mrs. Sivon said in her southern accent quietly. There was still no one in the library, so she felt she could talk to Peyton freely. Peyton gave her a small smile and took the bag from off of the counter, slinging it over her shoulder.

She stepped out of the cool, quiet interior of the library and into the hot, slightly louder outdoors. There was no one on the street of the library, and she started to take her normal route home, planning to get started on her new books before Grams called her for dinner.

Her walk home however, proved to be more eventful than she could have ever imagined. One second, the sky was a clear, brilliant blue, but the next, heavy, dark gray storm clouds began to gather in the west, nearly blotting out the sun.

Could it actually be rain? She thought to herself as she stopped for half a second to gaze at the clouds. A chilling breeze swept past her, sending shivers up her spine as her ebony hair swirled around her face. As she started to take a step forwards, she realized that she wasn’t alone. For once, someone was standing in front of her, walking steadily towards her.

Maybe they don’t know it’s me yet, was her only, wry thought. She looked up, expecting to see them run away in terror the moment she did so. She was the one who was more than a bit terrified. The man in the black hoodie from the library was hurrying towards her at an alarming pace. She still couldn’t see his face, but she was still sure it was a male.

He was too tall, too stocky to be a female. The thought unnerved her. She turned and started to walk back towards the library. If she could get there, she could use the librarian’s phone to call her Grams.

Although Peyton didn’t really know why, the man in the hoodie frightened her right to her very core. Her brain screamed at her to run; to run and to keep running, never looking back. She could feel her heart racing, pumping loudly and almost painfully in her chest. She thought that it might actually burst out of her chest at any given minute.

A small, inconspicuous glance behind her showed that the man in the hoodie was still there, following at a slower pace than before, but still there. Peyton didn’t slow. She heard the boom of thunder in the distance, although she didn’t quite comprehend fully what it was.

A few seconds later, she risked another glance, to see that he had vanished from behind her. Shell-shocked, Peyton stopped in her tracks and turned on her heel, staring behind her. He really was gone. There was no trace of him on the other side of the street, or ducking into a building. He had simply vanished.

Her heart was only starting to slow down when she turned back around, still planning on calling her grams, terrified that he might come back, when Peyton saw the four teenagers standing in her path. More puzzled on why they weren’t screaming and holding up crucifixes than anything, Peyton gave a small wave.

“Was that man following you?” A girl detached herself from the rest of her group, and took a few steps towards Peyton. This shocked her even more than the fact than that they hadn’t already run away, screaming in horror.

The girl standing before Peyton showed no signs of fear, although she may just have been a good actress. Her hair fell in a single, swooping sheet of brown flecked with gold and copper and her eye were a friendly moss green. Even from a distance Peyton could see the spattering of freckles across her nose and cheeks.

“Was that man following you?” The girl repeated her question, but wasn’t that much more curios sounding than before. The fact that Peyton hadn’t answered her didn’t seem to faze her or even to make her mad. In fact, she sounded rather calm.

Peyton was at a loss for words for a second, and then she said slowly, “No, I think he was just walking behind me.” She felt this was a lie, and the girl must have thought so too, because she tilted her head slightly to the side and looked at Peyton long and hard.

She nodded her head to the two boys behind her, and they took off in the direction opposite of Peyton at a sprint. It was only the girl who had spoken to Peyton and another, forlorn looking girl standing behind her.

The girl who had first spoken gave Peyton a warm smile, “I’m Ace.”

The other girl, who had a piercing that glinted on her nose, blue streaks flowing through her platinum blonde hair, gave a small, sarcastic kind of smile. Her voice was smooth as water, but ice cold when she said, “Scarlett.”

“Peyton,” she felt her lips moving, but didn’t hear the words actually come out. Ace and Scarlett must have, because they both nodded their acknowledgment of her.

“We know you Peyton,” Ace said, smiling her warm smile again. Peyton didn’t think it was very warm this time, but didn’t say anything. She heard another roll of thunder and looked toward the west. The sun was swallowed whole by the oncoming of fat, rolling storm clouds.

“The two boys you saw are Christian and Xavier,” Ace said, and Peyton turned her attention back to the green-eyed girl. “The blonde was Xavier, and the dark haired one was Christian.”

Peyton gave a small nod of her head, glancing again towards the storm clouds. She knew that it might mean rain, and wanted to be fully home before the rain came down. If it rained at all. Lightning flashed and Scarlett and Ace looked up in alarm.

“What do you think they’ve gotten themselves into now?” Scarlett asked, her watery smooth voice marred with irritation.

Ace closed her eyes and started to whisper something rather quickly under her breath. Scarlett grew edgier as the storm seemed to escalate. Thunder sounded far too quickly after the flashes of lightning that lit up the darkness of the coming clouds. Ace stopped chanting, and she walked forwards quickly, grabbing Peyton’s hand.

“Go home, quickly,” she said. Her eyes appeared far brighter than before. “Don’t stop; don’t slow down, just get home Peyton. Now!” She ran for the clouds, Scarlett in her wake, both had fear in their eyes. Peyton just wished she knew why.

It didn’t matter that Peyton had only just met them; she did what Ace had asked. She nearly ran home, but that didn’t stop the rain from hitting her before she was a block away. By the time she was safely tucked into her bed with a book in front of her nose, Peyton was once again dry, and all thought of the four strangers vanished from her mind without so much as a second thought.

It rained all night: the trees and other plants could almost be singing for the amount of rain that poured down in the night. The blasts of thunder that shook the old frame of Peyton’s childhood home didn’t wake her; she was too far lost in the world of her own dreams for that.

In her dream, she saw the man with the black hoodie, although his hood was down. She still couldn’t see his face, but she saw that he had black hair, much like her own. His voice was a deep bass when he spoke.

She couldn’t make out the actual words that he said, for they seemed to be of another language: a language that slipped past her tongue every time she tried to repeat them. Fire blazed in a pattern on the floor and standing back from the flames in her dream-body, she saw that it was a star in which a circle wrapped around.

She knew she’d seen that symbol before, and it took her a minute before she recalled that it was a pentagram, used mostly by witches for rituals and spells. She wondered why there was one in her dream, and what on earth it had to do with the strange man from earlier. Maybe it was a side effect of having a rather stressful day.

She watched as the man stepped into the middle of the circle, and raised his arms high. A sinking feeling settled in Peyton’s dream body’s stomach. Something bad was about to happen.

A low, dark, foreboding voice spoke out of what seemed to be the flames themselves. “Have you done as I have asked of you?”

The man in the hoodie hesitated, “My lord, there have been, ah, complications in the retrieval of the girl.”

“Complications?” The deeper voice seemed to be both highly troubled and highly angered by this information.

“She is now surrounded by her full circle,” he seemed terrified to say the words. “I fear retrieval will be impossible as of now.”

A roar filled the room, reverberating like thunder, shaking the walls as it did. Peyton’s dream body sank back into a shadowy corner, cowering in fear from the sheer force of the anger of the voice.

“You will retrieve her,” the voice commanded, “I am too weak to seek her in that world. Bring her to me!”

The hooded man’s head snapped up, and in one quick motion, he had pulled his hood up, covering his face once more. With a wave of his hands, the fire disappeared, leaving Peyton’s dream body quite in the dark.

She felt something grip her arm, burning her skin where it touched her. The deep bass of the man in the hoodie whispered in her ear, “I’m coming for you Peyton.”

She woke with a start, her heart trying to pound its way out of her chest and sweat pouring down her back and face. Her arm burned where her dream body had been touched and with a start, Peyton looked down to see a flaming red pentagram burned into her skin.

Lightning filled the room, followed all too soon by a deafening crash of thunder. Peyton didn’t go back to sleep that night.