Hi please forgive me... I haven't been on for months. I need to update my file...
Anyway, the reason is, one, I've been way too busy playing MineCraft... :-), and I've written a lot of stories, and I don't know which one to post!
"That man! He's back!" Yelling. More Yelling.
"Go away!" Tears. That man. Tears, more tears.
The car drives away. I lay motionless. Tears.
"Deijah! Are you okay?"
I gaze up into Connor's chocolate brown eyes and knod.
"That keeps happening. You're sure you're okay?"
I knod, staring into his mustard-blonde locks of hair. They resemble my own, since I am his twin brother. He holds a scorching glass of tea in his hands. He holds it to my lips and I take a sip. My lips are trembling. He holds his hands to the side of my head. I break into a cold sweat. The outdoor surroundings bring me at ease.
We are not camping.
We've been fugitives for months, running from the delirious poachers. They'll take us for our tails. The deformation that's my tail. They are supposedly a delicacy.
I'm a delicacy. Yum.
Ever since our parents abandoned us, we've been stray, absconding from every possible poacher. My stomach tightened as I thought of them catching us. Connor raked his hand through his rough hair, staring at me. He glances at his watch.
"Want to try and sleep, or should we leave?"
"I'm not very alert at the moment. I need to rest." I whisper.
I fall back into a slumber, waiting for nightmares to claw.
He holds up his contraption.
Almost pulls it.
As you know a legacy is something handed down from generation to generation, such as a treasure. Well, Deijah's legacy, happens to be blinding nightmares and visions.
"Connor! No you're dead!" I scream. Then sense knocks me in the head. It was a dream. An atrocious nightmare. Connor stood in front of me holding a compass that glinted as it shone in the dawn light.
"Deijah, get up, we got to go." He grimaced as he noticed the pool of sweat in my bag. "You'll need to scrub that out. But there's a clan a few miles east of her. Ten. to be precise."
I sit up, adjusting to the tenbrous light. I collect my pocketknife, small stock of berries, herbs, meat, and edible bark, my bandanna, and stuff all of it into my runty backpack. The sacchariferous smell of pine is awakening, and I soon feel alert.
"Come on. Apparently, poachers are heading this way. If we move quickly, we'll outrun them." Connor whispered. I sighed. The pint-sized meadow we had stumbled upon was certainly going to be difficult to leave. I knodded, gathering a small bundle of sticks before heading into the eerie half-dawnlit woods.
Hours later, after darting at nearly every sound, we reached the approxiamate the location Connor's GPS told us to go. He held a pair of binoculars to his face.
"There." He murmured, simotaneously pointing at a stump. As I approached, I felt a wave of anxiety flow over me. What if Connor was wrong? The stump didn't look hollow. Hopefully, I was wrong, and too over-protective. I'd do anything to hide from those evil hunters. I wedge my fingers between a small crack in the wood, and the top flies off.
"Yes!" Connor whispers. His brown eyes light up as we climb in and close the trunk top tightly. The room is half-decently furnished, but nowhere near rustic compared to our home over the past few months. We climb down a frail ladder, into a room. It holds a desk and about ten people debating. I scramble through the crowd, and lean over the stout girl at the desk.
"'Ello. Welcome. 'The Dirt House' has two open rooms. Both two bedroom, one bathroom. Bring your own meals, plus no talking from four to seven o'clock today. The hunters are heading here." The girl half-shouts over the fussy debaters. She drops a rusty bone-chiseled key into our hands. "Have a nice stay."
The room is wonderful, filled with beautiful carved furniture.
By the way, I'm just kidding. We're in a small room with two beds that look like gurneys, the plaster is chipping on the walls, and the frail cabinet leaning woefully against the ugly brown walls. But to me it's a luxury, compared to the outdoors. On the railing of the bed is a hastily torn note that reads, 'Enjoy your stay.' I search the even uglier bathroom, (again a luxury to us) for things that could be necessities on our next trip. The scratched ebony drawer hold a bottle of purified water, shampoo, conditioner, body wash, and a scratchy towel, which I snatch and hastily stuff into my bag.
"Deijah?" Connor calls.
"I restocked our cleaning supplies and towels." I say.
Connor lays on one of the gurneys holding something I haven't seen in seven months.
"Connor!" I yell, darting at him and wrapping my arms around him. He conceals it in a little cloth bag with a clasp.
"Today is your birthday." He says glancing at his watch. "September 31."
"It's yours too! Oh my gosh! I forgot and lost track of time." I whisper. I shove my face into my arms, sobbing. "I'm such an idiot."
"No your not. Besides, it's not like you could get me something I want." He says, his eyes glowing. "I love you, your my sister, and I'm lucky to have a twin like you. When I'm sick you take care of me. When I'm sad you comfort me. When I'm hyper you calm me down!"
I laugh, as if someone had just told me the funniest joke in the world.
"Connor, I'll never leave you. I promise." I say, hugging him again.
The furniture slides around, hitting each other, denting the walls.
"Connor!" I cry, grasping the empty air for him. "Where are you?"
I feel dizzy, as if my head's spinning.
The last thing I hear:
"Who is he?"
"Ice cold eyes. Blue. Blonde streaky hair. Pale."
Shaking. The shaking starts again.
Hot. I'm too hot.
Why won't you stop?
Shut my eyes.
Can't open them.
They can't hear me.
I'm floating. I want to come back down.
I'm not dead. I'm not dead.
Who is that man?
Thanks for reading. Please review. PLEASE!
Were the dreams scary? Did you understand them? If you think you know what they mean, tell in your review. Hopefully the next chapter will be up soon. BTW, I will finish this one. Promise.