• Inside every person there’s a monster,
    Someone that wishes us to fall
    A lost soul, a voice unheard,
    It challenges us to take it all

    Where can you hide when it belongs to you?



    Chapter 1

    In this world monsters are unheard of. We laugh it off, thinking that you’re psycho. We even have a ward for those who tell us differently. But eventually the change will happen. It will come to you, and how do you run, how do hide when it’s you? This is a warning. Take cover, mortal, it will come eventually…

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    He stood there flinching away from Darius’s reach. The last blow had almost been too much to handle. He reached up to wipe the blood away, but it had already reached his mouth. Darius smirked.
    “Say Uncle,” Darius yelled raising his fist. The boy flinched away, shaking his head. He heard a crack and looked up from the earth. Blood poured from his nose. He could hear the other kids in the background encouraging Darius. He knew they would never stand up for him. The freak of nature. His different colored eyes looked up at Darius as if asking him a question, why? Why Darius? But Darius didn’t know why. He was the bully, and the punk was a freak. His different colored eyes just looked around all day. He never spoke to anyone; just stared. Darius had his reputation to keep up. He pulled back his fist one last time, giving it all of his strength. A hand intercepted it. A brittle hand, one with wrinkles around it. Darius gulped before speaking.
    “Hullo Mrs. Francis. We were just playin aroun’. You know how boys are,” Darius chuckled nervously. Mrs. Francis twisted his arm, not stopping until he grimaced in pain.
    “Detention Mr. Darius Arnold!” she yelled. She let go of Darius and he winced, getting up and running to the schoolhouse obediently. She glowered at the other kids, who suddenly had taken interest in their shoes. All of them wandered toward the street with their books, heading back to their houses.
    “Are you okay, Blake?” she asked softly, picking him up. He just stared at her with his different eyes, not saying a word. He wasn’t one for words exactly. He got up robotically and nodded. He turned to leave, just stopping to grab his fallen books. Mrs. Sylvia Francis was old. Nobody could deny it. She couldn’t help Blake in any way. She knew his folks, and they would just beat him for fighting. She sighed. If there were anything I could do... She thought. Her heart followed the dark-haired child with the bleeding nose. Poor child. She thought, heading inside to scold Darius.
    Blake trudged home, in no real hurry. His parents would be a trifle disgruntled. Scratch that, they would be flaming mad. They had two other children and cared not for the child that had been left on the doorstep. Once they found out he was a mute freak they took to treating him as the family dog. His only comfort was in knowing that he had all of tomorrow to be alone with his thoughts. Tomorrow the town’s festival would be held. Bright costumes had to be stitched, meaning tonight would be even worse. He reached the red barn and entered to feed the cows. His father lay sleeping in the pen. Blake’s hard face twitched into a smile. His father was most likely drunk. He headed into the field, where the small farmhouse sat. Since Blake did most of the repairs, it looked kind of run-down. His mother sat on the rocking chair, waiting for him to arrive. She noticed the blood on his face and she shot out to meet him.
    “Boy! I told you to leave them young uns’ lone!” She shrieked, pulling her fist back. It hit Blake’s face with a loud pop. After she had successfully made him bleed, she looked at him. No tears poured from this boy’s eyes. Those creepy eyes.
    “Wait till your dad hears about this one, freak!” she yelled, turning on her heels. Blake watched her go into the house. He held up his hand to his face, trying to assess the damage. Blake had learned the hard way that crying got you nowhere. Hours passed and Blake was hurt worse. By bed time, he was on the verge of tears. He crawled to his place in the barn and tried to fall asleep. Dreams kept him tossing and turning in the night. The sunlight of a dawning day awoke him. He sneezed a loud and frightening sneeze. He ran his hand over his face, checking for swollen muscles. There was nothing but dried blood. He carefully stood up and looked around. There was no shouts from the house. He ran outside toward the house. The car was gone. He whooped in delight, jumping up and down. He made his way to the woods behind the house. The weeping willow trees had always scared everyone away, but to Blake he felt that they were special. Important somehow. The gushing river was the main supply of their house water, and occasionally when his folks left he took baths in it. He removed his shoes, dipping his feet into the cool waters. He chuckled, loving the feeling of the water on his toes. He curled them in anticipation. He stripped down to his underwear, diving in to the cold darkness. After a long relaxing hour in the waters he felt clean enough to get out. He reluctantly put his clothes back on. Trudging back to the house to finish his chores, he sighed. Moment of the week was now over. He scrubbed the morning dishes in scouring water and he thought. I can’t wait to get out of here. The door slammed and Blake jumped around.
    “Good to see you’re washing the plates, boy! I was gonna get to em’ meself but… eh,” His mother spoke. Blake nodded happily. She was in a good mood. Well, that or she was completely wasted. She leaned over to ruffle his still damp hair. He loved these moments, he lived for them. The door slammed shut. Blake looked up into the eyes of his father. His father patted him on the head gently and smiled. Blake looked confusedly at him. His father just grinned and took the dishes from his hand.
    Blake tugged on it, trying to take it back.
    “Naw, I got it. You just run along with mama and shower,” his father grinned. Blake reluctantly followed. He wasn’t sure what his father was planning. He followed his mom to the creek, and they splashed around for hours. He blissfully sighed. She gave him a fresh pair of shorts, and led him to the spare room in the back of the house. This was his sister’s doll room. The small bed for guests was made. His sister said nothing which was unusual. He drifted to sleep easily.
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    “Just leave the child!” a voice hissed from beneath the cloak. The young woman shook her head, tears streaming from her face. The man in the cloak tried to tug the child away, waking it. Its wails echoed through the small town, and the woman desperately tried to shush it.
    “I can’t. I love him!” the woman’s voice broke.
    “You know nothing of love! Or pain!” the man hissed.
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    Blake woke with a start. The woman seemed familiar, but he’d never seen her before. This dream was not unfamiliar; it had plagued his mind for years. Blake realized why he had awoken. Sirens screamed from outside the window. Jumping up he ran to the front room. A man in a suit sat on the sagging couch next to a fat policeman. The policeman kept twisting his hands, as if the man’s very presence was threatening. His mother and father sat in the dining chairs opposite of them. The man looked up, smiled and spoke, “Just the person I wanted to see. Come here Blake.”
    “Don’t Blake! Stay where you are!” his mother yelled. Blake looked around.
    “You don’t have to listen to her. I know how she’s tortured you!”
    “Don’t you dare! Blake, you know that I’ve always cared for you!”
    “You know nothing of caring!” the man hissed. Blake looked at him startled. That voice…. Where had he heard it before? The policeman cleared his throat and the bickering stopped. He took out a kerchief and wiped his brow.
    “Well now Blake, we indeed have a predicament. This man here says he’s your bloodline. Your father. Now, your parents insist he’s not. You have a choice. Since we are too lazy right now to do a blood test, and nobody really has heard about it yet, we can have you come to a decision. Who do you wish to belong to?” the policeman asked Blake.
    “He’s a mute!” his father snapped.
    “No I assure you there is nothing wrong with his vocals. He just chooses to keep silent,” the man in the suit said. Blake studied him. His silk suit seemed out of place on their shaggy sofa. His snakeskin shoes too rich for his taste. There was something about the way the man talked. Like he expected people to be afraid. Blake’s eyes met the man’s. They were a rich black, a hint of red if you studied them. Fear flooded into his mind. The man just stared at him kindly, not saying a word. A spark of desire flowed through him. Could this really be his father? Blake had never tried to talk. His parents labeled him as a mute when he was young and he expected it was true. This man really scares me. But I don’t wish to be beaten any longer. But on the other hand they have been real nice to me lately. Just like they knew he was- Blake instantly knew it was true. His parents knew the man would ask him to come home. They figured that if Blake thought they liked him, he would stay. Rejection shot through him, taking control of his mind. Tears pooled over, the liquid hot flow burning his eyes.
    “Son?” the policeman asked, holding out his kerchief. Blake shook his head, his hot tears whipping from side to side. He pointed to the man, making the decision of a lifetime.
    His mother gasped.
    “After all I do for you! After all we’ve been doing for you! Feeding you, clothing you! This is how you repay us!” his mother screeched. The man smirked obviously delighted. His smile however, faded when Blake’s mother got up from her chair, starting across the room to Blake. The man yanked Blake out of her reach.
    “Mrs. Goff!” the police man yelled. His voice calmed everyone down. The man told Blake to go get things, finding it odd when his mother told that him, Blake had none. Blake just looked back one last time as their car pulled out from the shadows of the new day.
    “Well Blake, I assure you, you will be treated way better this way!” the man said tersely. Blake just nodded.
    “There is probably something I should tell you,” he also added, “I am not your father.” Blake gasped, his fist into balls with anger. How could he have been so naïve!
    “But I am related to you, and your parents and I knew each other very well!” The man said quickly. Blake seemed to slowly put his hands down, his face relaxing. After long hours of driving in silence they seemed to reach a gate.
    “Ah, here we are!” the man said, smoothly pulling the car into a huge mansion. Blake gaped in delight. The double towered mansion covered a large piece of land; the gates leading up to it cast iron. Once they reached the front, a servant came to the door and opened it for the man. Once he opened it for him, he turned to the backdoor and opened it also. Blake looked up at the windows. He thought he saw a face peeking out from beneath the curtains. Noticing Blake’s assessment of the house the man nodded.
    “Just one of my smaller houses,” the man grinned wryly. Smaller houses?! Blake thought excitedly.
    “You may call me Dazurith. If you wish, you can also change your name,” the man said leading him up the stoned path to the door. Blake shrugged implying that he didn’t care. As he got up to the door he stepped back allowing Blake to be in front of him. Blake didn’t notice the hand reaching for the side of his neck until it was too late. Whump! The man held on to Blake, opening the door and carrying him to the guest room.
    “I’m sorry, but it’s best if you have no recollection of those last years.” Dazurith just stared at the boy for a moment. He had to be the boy in the prophecy.
    One from the land of the Lost,
    Intent on saving at all costs,
    One from a struggling Land,
    The chosen one, by his own father’s hand.
    Well Dazurith was not Blake’s father, but his father certainly was powerful. A girl about the age of Blake slipped through the crack of the door.
    “Dazurith?” she asked gently. He turned slowly. The girl stood wringing her hands and staring at the boy carefully. Dazurith spoke, “Yes, I’ve found one.” The girl smiled happily.
    “He certainly looks the part. Do you think he’ll be nice to me?” the girl asked.
    “I really don’t know. His parents told him that he was a mute when they found him, however there is nothing wrong with his voice. We’ll have to just wait and see,”