Young Writers Society

I stare in horror, watching the demon as he stands before me. He is tall and and pitch black, like a shadow. He has no distinct features, no eyes nor hair or anything to clue me in on who he is or why he’s here, but still I know he is bad. I can feel the hatred pouring off him in waves, so thick and palpable it chokes me. My thoughts get jumbled in my head, and my body paralyzed in fear.

I try to scream for help, but nothing comes out, and I begin to hyperventilate. I fall to my knees, unable to breathe, feeling as though I may vomit. The shadow-demon seems to be silently mocking me, as if amused by my struggles. He lunges towards me, and I can can hear him whisper in my ear, a sound like death itself.

“Look what you’ve done…” He rasps, reaching out and grabbing me by my foot, dragging me along the floor. “Look what you've done!” He begins screeching furiously, dragging me down a hole. My face burns, and my skin begins to bubble and blister the farther down we go. I cry out in pain, though it's useless. Demons surround me from all sides, laughing and making a mockery of me as we go down. The pain is excruciating, and I can only hope to die soon.

“Maximum!” I hear a voice call to me, and I crane my head with everything I have, trying to find the source of the voice.

“Maximum!” She says again, and I jolt awake, clawing at the person beside me. It takes me a few moments to realize that it’s only Jane, and I collapse in my bed, sighing heavily. “It’s going to be okay, Max.” She whispers, moving close to me and pulling me into a warm embrace. For once, I let her. I soak into her hug and breathe in her warmth, shuddering.

“Max, it’s okay. You were only having a nightmare.” Suddenly anger flashes through me, and I push her away. 

“It’s not just a dream!” I shriek.

“Max, calm down, I didn't mean it like-” I don't even give her time to finish speaking before screaming at her. I don't care about her petty excuses. She should have known better than to say something like that.

“You don't understand anything about me, and you shouldn’t bother trying to! You aren't my mother, Jane, and you never will be! Just stop trying to get close to me!” She stares back at me, mouth open as if shocked that I had spoken to her in such a manner. For a moment, I pitied her, but my empathy was quickly replaced with cold hard anger. She deserved it, for constantly probing me and pretending to care.

And yet, as I watch her, I do not see anger in her eyes. I don't see her raise her hand to smack me across the mouth, nor reach for her belt. She stares into my eyes, and I can see the disappointment on her face. “Very well. I was simply trying to help.” She hangs her head sadly and exhales slowly.

“Well, stop trying.” I snarl, forcing all the menace in the world into my voice. I stand up, straightening myself as tall as possible in attempt to intimidate her. She blinks her eyes, and I watch as tears form in her eyes. She stands, then walks to the door, pausing for a moment. She shakes her head sadly then leaves, and guilt pierced me like a knife.

Perhaps my anger had gotten the best of me, though I really believed she deserved it. Either way, I just couldn’t quite understand the feeling of anguish that consumed me. She had been stupid, acting as if she could understand the nightmares and things I’ve gone through, but she doesn't. She doesn't understand me and she never will. The more I ponder on these thoughts the more perturbed I feel, and I begin to ramble quietly to myself (a habit formed out of loneliness).

Jane later calls me down for dinner, though she doesn't say a word and the silence hangs heavy in the air. While we eat, I try to catch her eye, though she refuses to even look at me. When we finish eating, she takes the dishes and cleans up, and I head upstairs. It had been foolish of me to even dream of having a mother. It was clear to me then that no matter what I did, I would always be the screw up. And there was nothing I could do to change it.

I sit down at the desk in the corner. I remember Jane had told me that this room had been previously an office, though she almost never used it. Since it had been too large and heavy for her to move alone, she had left it in the corner for me to use instead. Personally I loved it. I had always wanted my own little desk to write at, and now I had one. I gnawed at the end of my pencil, thoughts and emotions swarming in my brain like bees. I thought for a moment, then began to write. My pencil dipped and swerved frantically as I wrote, my thoughts moving so quickly that I could hardly keep up. New ideas flew through my brain, and often I had to erase and completely change my poem.

Then it stopped. Almost as quickly as it had began, it had ended. Finally done, I lay down my pencil and sigh, looking over my work.

Wolf, Wolf, gazing high

Looking into the endless sky

Howl, Howl

At the moon

Praising the spirits up above

Death is the only price higher than love

When it’s time to leave, She stands

A lone wolf in the vast lands

She walks away from Her pack

She walks away and never looks back...

*

Forging through the wind and rain

Trying to forget Her pains

Pushing on, wishing, crying

Screaming as if She were dying

Battling the fears within

Just so She can reach the end

Yet still She continues on

Hoping for tomorrows sun

*

Owls calling to the moon

Flying

r

e

h

g

i

h

To touch the sky

Little Wolf

Howling still

Waiting for the sun to rise

With soft touch and gentle heart

Watch as the light lifts the dark

Through foggy minds and clouded ears

The rays of sun begin to appear

*

And they touch the lonely Wolf

I finally begin to relax as all my thoughts are poured unto the paper, forming something beautiful out of nothing. I feel satisfied with myself as I read over the poem, letting it flow through my mind and feeling the words upon my tongue. With hope in my heart and a new lightness with in myself, I drift off to sleep, finally content.

☬  ☬  ☬

I awake in the morning to bright lights beaming above me. I drowsily open my eyes, blinking them and trying to adjust to the light. Jane stands not too far away, smiling. That’s good, I think to myself, she's finally getting over last night.

“C’mon Max. You have to go to school.” she says, then walks out. I take a deep breath, pausing as I smell a familiar sweet smell. Pancakes. Suddenly, I throw on my clothes and race downstairs into the kitchen, ecstatic. I’ve only had pancakes a few times in my life, and I consider them a rare delicacy as opposed to the usual toast.

Jane hands me a plate with one pancake, and I look down at it, unsure whether it was a joke or not.

“Um, I’m going to need more than one pancake…” She blinks at me, then nods.

“Of course.” she adds another pancake.

“More.” I say, starting to feel slightly weirded out. Does she not realize I need more than two pancakes to sustain myself?

“How much do you usually eat?” she huffs, eyeing my incredibly small figure.

“Five…” I say in a small voice, realizing that most people don't eat as much as I do. Personally, I blame my insane metabolism, because no matter what, I always seem to be hungry. Yet, I never gain any weight. Some people envy me, though I honestly can't see why. I’m not nearly as pretty nor do I have perfect grades. I’m just that kid in the shadows, never seen nor noticed.

She places another two pancakes on my plate and I accept the plate graciously, sitting down at the dining room table and wolfing them down. A layer of syrup lay on the plate. I eyed it, licking my lips. I stare at Jane, who had her back turned to me as she made the pancakes. I brought the the plate to my mouth, and I licked all of the syrup clean off it. Jane turns to sit at the table, only one pancake upon her plate. She marvels at my extraordinarily clean plate, and I scowl at her.

“What? I was hungry.” With that, I turn and grab my books, heading out the door to the car. The school was only a couple of blocks away, and I already had memorized the route. In fact, the only reason Jane had taken me there the previous day was because she had insisted on driving me, since it was a special occasion.

I walked swiftly down the crowded streets, avoiding the other pedestrians. I hate the crowds of people that are here in New York, so different from the empty vastness of where I had previously lived, in Wichita, Kansas. Nonetheless, as I walk, I find my thoughts drifting to Hazel.

I enter the wide double doors of Glen Cove high school, heading for my locker. Even from halfway down the hall, I can spot Joey’s bleach blonde hair right beside my locker. I roll my eyes.

“Hey new girl,” he smiles, his blue eyes twinkling.

“My name’s Maximum.”

“Ah, so you do have a name! Thats a good thing to know. Well, I gotta head to homeroom. See ya around, Maximum.” He takes his books and strides confidently away. I shake my head, a small smile forming upon my lips. He had a bubbly character that just seemed to rub off on people, even me. I grab my binders and head to first period, scanning the halls for Hazel.

I arrive just before the bell rings, taking my seat by the window and glancing at the empty seat where Hazel had sat yesterday. A slight sadness fills me, though I push it away and look up at Mrs.Matthews, who immediately begins teaching. She goes over a few announcements, warning us of the test to come and projects that are due. When she begins to take up the previous night's homework, I hear a knocking at the door.

I turn in my chair, leaning to see who it is. I catch a glimpse of black hair, and my heart flutters. A kid sitting nearby, (named James, as I later found out), opened the door to find Hazel at the other end. She was out of breath, and she walked up to the teacher to hand her a tardy note.

“Sorry I’m late, Mrs. Matthews.”

“You sure are gonna be if you don't sit your behind down! Why are you 15 minutes late?”

“I er…” she hesitated slightly, and yet, it was a pause so short that it was nearly impossible to notice. “I was stuck in traffic.” Mrs. Matthews sighs as though she’s heard the excuse a thousand times, but doesn't argue. Hazel glances at me, then turns to sit at her seat. I let out a soft sigh before turning my attention back to my classwork. When the bell rings, I grab my belongings and turn to Hazel.

“You weren't stuck in traffic, were you?” I asked, gazing into her brilliant emerald eyes.

“How did you…” She looks at me in bewilderment.

“You don’t have a car. You walked home yesterday.” I say matter-of-factly. She tilts her head to one side, as if asking me why I payed so much attention to her. I gulp discreetly, looking down at my binders as we head to Ms. Rowan's class.

The rest of the day flies by pretty quickly and the schoolwork proves incredibly easy. When the final bell sounds, I sigh, relieved for school to finally be over. I begin to head out of the large double doors when I feel a tugging on my arm. I jump from surprise, not used to being touched, then turn to find Hazel staring at me.

“Wait up, would ya? I was going to ask you if you wanted to come hang out at the Hub with me, James, and a couple other friends.” I bite my lip, slightly unsure of whether or not to go. I’ve never been all that social, and I don't even know where the “Hub” is. Still, I find myself nodding my head.

“Sounds great.” Her eyes light up, and she smiles.

“Awesome! You can walk with me if you’d like, since you are new around here.” She paces down the crowded sidewalk and finds her way without difficulty. I, on the other hand, am mostly trying not to bump into other pedestrians or trip over my own feet. Truth is, I am incredibly clumsy. Somehow I manage to not fall on my face as we walk down the block. Hazel talks to me the whole way, jumping from topic to topic in mindless babble. I don't mind it, though, relishing the fact that she doesn't need my response to keep talking.

A few blocks away from the school and we’ve arrived at a small building with a neon open sign and large letters above the door that say, “The Hub” The brick walls on the outside of it are covered in graffiti, and the windows tinted. When I open the door and step inside, I immediately count my exits. One. I try not to panic. The Hub turns out to be a small restaurant specializing in milkshakes, set up to look similar to a bar. It has dim lights and even a wooden bar table furnished with stools. Hazel grabs my arm and tugs me excitedly behind her, leading me the back of the restaurant. She pulls me over to a booth in the back corner, waving to a guy- James, as I recall his name.

He has semi-long black hair and gages in his ears, looking like the classic emo. His dark brown eyes stare back at me expectantly, and he wears an expressionless mask upon his face. His muscular arms rest on the table as he waits for us. He’s downright hot, and I immediately stand straighter, feeling self conscious about my appearance. Hazel and I sit across from him and I he stares at me.

“Who's she?” He asks, not taking his eyes off me. “This is Max,” She says, putting her arm around me as if to claim me, “she’s my friend.” I shudder away from her touch. James nods, finally glancing at her.

“I’m not sure if Patrik is gonna show up. Last time I talked to him he told me he was going to a ‘skittle party’.”

“Who’s Patrik?” I ask, trying not to be totally antisocial.

“He’s James’ lover.” Hazel wiggles her eyebrows at him, giggling.

“Shut up you little cunt! He’s not my lover. We’re just friends.”

“Oh please, It’s obvious he likes you.” The two go go back and forth, while I sit there listening in silence.

“Wait- are you gay?” I blurt out, the realization finally hitting me. James turns and looks me in the eye, not taking a moment to hesitate,

“I’m not gay. I’m bi. There’s a difference.”

“Oh.”

“Is that a problem?”

“No!”

“It better not be.” We fall silent, staring intently into each other's eyes with an unsaid language passing between us. The tension was so thick and heavy in the air it was palpable, and yet, neither of us would break the stare-down. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Hazel sitting there awkwardly, unsure of what to do.

“‘Sup guys.” All three of our heads turn to look at a guy I didn't recognize. He had messy red hair and his face was so pale it made Voldemort look tan. Freckles dotted his cheeks, and he had frosty blue eyes. He wore a black hoodie and dark jeans, an interesting contrast to his flaming hair.

“Hey, Patrik,” Hazel says, obviously relieved. James slides over in his booth, making room for him. Parik takes a seat, sipping on an oreo milkshake.

“So who’s the new girl over here?”

“Why does everyone keep asking the same freaking question?” I huff, slightly aggravated.

“Woah now, I wasn't trying to be rude. What’s your name?”

“Max.”

“Sexual orientation.”

“What…?”

“Sexual orientation. As in, what’s your sexuality. James is bi, Hazel is pan, I’m gay. What’s your sexuality?”

“Um…” I hesitated for a moment, unsure of whether or not to trust them. I had never told anyone my sexuality before, for fear of being taunted.

“It’s okay, Max. We don’t care what your sexuality is, we are just curious.” Hazel says, looking into my eyes. Patrik and James nod in agreeance, and I decide to take a leap of faith.

“Pan.” I say quietly, embarrassed even though I know they won't make fun of me. It’s the first time I’ve ever admitted it outloud, and it felt so wonderful to tell them, but at the same time, I was incredibly scared. I didn’t want others to know, especially Christians. I’ve watched over and over again, how Christians would gang up on Atheists and anybody who wasn’t heterosexual, shoving the Bible in their face and telling them they would go to Hell. Personally, I don't believe in afterlife and could care less about their stupid Bible. It’s not like Atheists just go up to Christians 24/7 telling them that what they believe is wrong. So why do we have to put up with it?

Hazel smiles approvingly putting her arm around me again, and James nods approvingly.

“Looks like we’ve found our newest member of the Glen Cove Gay Squad.” Patrik says, holding his hand up for a high five. I look at it for a moment, then grin, slapping his hand. I can't help but feel ecstatic. 

Could things get any better?