Chapter One

 

 

 

    Everything is the boring same, nothing shall ever be different. 

    Hayden reflected his depressive mood, stepping over a squished pop can, listening to the honking and reverberating of the cars that passed in a hurry. The sounds of Cristo Cove echoed and refrain with activity and life.

   Through the smells of burning gasoline and the faint odors that escaped the buildings of bars and restaurants, the freshness of the ocean was the one out of many smells he pleasured through his nostrils.

      People with the various expressions of happiness to calmness moved forward or behind him. Yet, Hayden was the rough surrounded by diamonds. Hayden felt like the outcast of society because of how everyone treated him at school, and anywhere with teenage socialization. Hayden thinks that this is bad luck.

       Did the bad luck also infect the weather? For the smoky-grey clouds buffed and mended, darkening the clearness of the dusky sky. Cold rain spat in disgust on such an innocent being. Many wore umbrellas, but sadly for Hayden, his short golden-brown was drenched in rain.

      Water dripped on his unzipped blue hoodie and white t-shirt, and rain spilt down his pale skin. The drizzle pour down his face almost like tears, tears Hayden usually manifested from his eyes but didn’t today.

       Brushing around a corner of a street, he stepped into a music café with loud hip-hop music blasting away within.

     Vinyl’s Turf, a café created especially for the people who were interested in hip-hop, Indies, Deejays, bands and the taste of coffee or cappuccino. The café was glowing in colors of tan, blue and red. The café had authentic columns holding the second floor, tied with blood-red bows.

      In a section of the shop, were couches and computer desks for the students who desired to study in places like these. In the other was a miniature stage and dance floor, for the entertainers usually were to, of course, entertain the guests on Saturday.

     The two last sections of were the bar and table-seating areas. The shiny wood-marbled, long, bar table was visible for any eyes hungry for any beverages known to be occupied behind the bar table. But it was the men and women behind the Bar table, that made others drawn to that area.

     The bartenders were the tribe or wisdom, for the shattered people, who were sober and needed somebody to talk with for the evening. However, they weren’t there for sympathy, but for giving advice. When in need of help towards the future, they were anybodies horoscopes. Anybody.

      And this was the place Hayden needed to return to today.

       Hayden sighed that he finally got inside, away from the cold rain, and walked over to the counter of the bar. The bartenders shouted with happiness as Hayden strolled to a seat. The leather stool was making it a bit uncomfortable because of his soaked jeans.

       The bartenders with rolled up sleeves, patted the shoulders of Hayden, and carried on with their business. Only one of them gave a cup of warm, soothing coffee to Hayden. And this one was a magnificently generous woman who knew how he felt and what to give for sympathy.

       A Cup of coffee.

       Coffee doesn’t really have any significance. It’s just a drink containing caffeine and with a stimulating effect that is made from the special seeds. However, that is it physically. Though, its significance to Hayden was that the young woman knew his emotion when he first stepped in.

       A cup of coffee represented the fact that the woman shows she cares for him, and wants to know he is in good hands now. Its warmth of meaning seemed to make the void of cold darkness evade the premises. Vinyl’s Turf was Hayden’s oasis.

       Grasping the warm coffee, and taking a sip of it, he conjures up a smile that waited to bloom since the beginning of the day.

      “Aha, you’re smiling, I guess a cup of coffee should be the treatment for all these sad beings that sit here,” Miranda said, with her mellow British-accent jazzy voice.

        Miranda. Her melodious voice was one of many attributes this attractive young lady had and to the bar. Her dirty blonde hair matched the dark yellow and browns in her fashionable outfit; her skin was sun-browned by the old summer sun that left this afternoon.

       Conversely, it was those ostentatious, bright brown eyes that Hayden concentrated on. A smile flamed from her as she rested her arms on the counter in front of Hayden, arching her back, her face close to his.

      “You’re doing it again, looking into my eyes.” Miranda said with sly chuckle.

      “Should I be sorry?” Hayden smirked in the haze of bliss he fell into.

      “That depends on the trust I have on you,” Miranda replied.

       “My honesty has never messed up your life, has it?” Hayden was still in the miasma of ecstasy from the pleasure of talking to Miranda once again.

       “No, but if you leave again without dropping a few dollars from your pocket from the last coffee you had. You will not have the authority to look upon them.”

         Just like that, he was snatched out from the purple haze back into the malicious reality of life.

         Miranda slowly turned his back on him, walked away to company another customer. That cold front of evil and tease made the men and women beside him laugh at his dumb mistake. The manager of the bar, VIN, walked over to him, as Hayden bowed his head in shame. Venerability strikes again. Hayden thought with a short smirk and chuckle.

        “You should be glad I, you and she are all friends, otherwise, the Po Po will be dealing with you.” The jolly manger addressed to him.

          Gigantic and happy. That was what Vin was to this tavern. He was the Santa Claus who never said ho ho ho. He was also the man of many jokes. Vin was bald, dark-skinned and dark-eyed. His buttoned up shirt was rolled up on the sleeves and he wore jeans today. He was the man that rebelled to frown.

       “I’m glad I got enough money to pay it all,” Hayden said, reaching in his pockets and putting down a bill of twenty.

       “Glad you do too.” Vin answered back, giving the ten to another member of the Bartenders and telling them to bring back change.

       “Aw Christ, I had a really bad day today. I ate no breakfast, woke up too late, rushed, school, and dragged my tiresome body here. Still don’t know how I do it, Vin, still don’t have a god damn clue of how I do it.”

       “Well, you’re with us, and you can relax, and party!” Vin retrieved the change and pushed it down the counter to Hayden. “Speaking of partying, we’re going to hook up the turntables and you can DJ again for us for Club Night, if you’re willing to do it.”

       “DJ? Again? Vin, no offense but I am very exhausted, I don’t even know if my fingers can function to press or flick any buttons or tabs. I don’t–.”

       “You may want to tonight,” Vin interrupted, putting a rag over his shoulders and leaning closer to Hayden to reveal a secret. “Miranda says she is in the mood to ‘celebrate’ and is bringing a few of her ‘girlfriends’ here for Club Night. And I know a few of them, and god, I have never seen any angels like those in my life. But, its okay we got Karl who can DJ with his techno beats again!” Vin shouted to grab Karl’s attention. The bartenders shouted BOO! A joke with Karl.

         Hayden didn’t laugh but instead smiled. He gawked at Miranda who was across the other end of the table. With his eyes, he traced the curves of her body from her feet to her head. Hayden thought of Miranda as the Jessica Alba of bartending. Weird thought. Miranda glanced at Hayden for a moment and continued her work.

        “Alright,” Hayden spoke. “I’ll DJ tonight.”

          Vin walked across the counter shouting, “DJ HAYDEN, BRING THAT BEAT BACK!” Everyone laughed and applaud for Hayden to be able to run the tables again. After a long day of turmoil, Hayden felt happy.

 

Chapter Two

 

 

 

Hayden had repeated the same phase every time he was Deejay on club night. It was always the same thing. He watched his longed-for crush, Miranda, dance subconsciously and sexually on the dance floor, then others dance around her, and the basic exhilaration of other activities that men and women did there.

    Then, after when the party was at its climax at 10 PM, he would leave for home and fall on his bed, thinking of her, and still shaking from the vibration of music.

      However, tonight was different from the others; it was as if something unnatural became the grave addition to his club nightly routine.

     After Hayden danced his fingers on the turntables, he switched to another new upbeat song, and took a breather. His eyes searched desperately for Miranda, once he found her, it appeared that time slowed for him to take a long look at her. Her slim and smooth body swayed to the rhythm of the drums.

      The fast-paced melody was discharging in the night air; the synthesizer pounded and punctured the long-dead silence. All around in assorted areas, lone couples were there, caressing and kissing, all Hayden could do, was to sanction fantasies and tongue-twisting dreams of lust.

 

***

     

      The beach of sand was darkened by the night, and the ocean sparkled by the glade of the moonlight. The water caresses over the sand of Cristo Cove in a long range sweep then crawls back bringing a short amount of sand with it. The water repeats the process once again, but brings forth something unusual.

       A human body.

       The body lumps over the ruffling water, then send onto the flat surface of the smooth, muddy sand. The human body wore clothes, clothes of a male. A rough, worn out t-shirt scraped color-dying jeans and dirty shoes.

        Was he dead? Or was he alive?

         The man coughed heavily and turned on its back.

         Alive he was.

         His tiresome feelings swallowed his body the way the rushing ocean water clamped and fluttered away in a repetition. Thoughts were blurred the way his vision was.

         Nonetheless, the figure remained resistant, fighting the pain and tiredness, to find help, to find safety. From crawling to gaining balance of walking, he limped his way near a building with letters on flashing above it he could not make out. The only letter he recognized was a V.

           Better than nothing.

 

***

 

     Through the window, a silhouette of a slowly-moving, daunting figure came past outside, disturbing the view of the beautiful ocean.

     Hayden glimpsed there and saw the figure for a second. Yet, he thought it was nothing just a normal person. Whatever, Hayden thought, continuing his music making.

    The coffeeshop was now transformed into a blasting club. It was humid on the dance floor and lights of pink, purple, and luminous green created nerve-racking shadows on the walls, toting up to the jubilation of the moment. A moment that would change Hayden’s life.

         Rapidly, something gave a striking impact to Hayden’s head.

        Pressure he never experienced before quaked his mind, making everything flash around in bright lights. Hayden was completely dazed and took a step back, inhaling strong with eyes widen.

        Resisting strongly, the pressure quickly disappeared, leaving him powerless and tired, Hayden exhaled strongly. He jabbed his hand on a wall to balance and relax from the sudden attack.

         Surging headaches blasted, and veins on his neck began to pop. Karl, the second DJ, put down his drink on a table and jogged to Hayden once he noticed the strange occurrence.

         “Yo, Hayd, you alright?” he asked cautiously.

         “Yeah, I’m alright, just really…” Hayden paused.

           What can he tell Karl, when really what happened he couldn’t explain. Was it a random headache? A symptom to a cancer or sickness? Yet he knew he was healthy. He couldn’t answer; however, he had to say at least a word to clarify his false normality.”

         “Tired, yeah I’m tired. Take the tables for awhile, and please let me rest.”

           Migraines over migraines were pouring onto Hayden’s heaving head, tiring him with every woozy step he took. He difficultly left the DJ area, onto the busy dance floor. Taking a decent long breath, he assorted himself, and got a drink of rootbeer and took a sip of it, looking into the crowd.

      Hayden looked at a black teenager bumping into different bodies; some either bumped back, or stopped and cursed at his mood-ruining. All the sudden, Hayden squinted his eyes at the drunk-looking figure.

      A dark liquid spilled down the man’s nose. The man must’ve realized and sampled a bit of it on his fingers and looked at them.  Hayden opened his eyes in shock once knowing what the dark liquid was.

        Blood.

        Hayden put down his drink, and rushed his way to the young man, trying to be his aid.

            The teenager began to worry, and then glanced around for someone familiar to call for help. “Help, please, hel–.”

            Soon the words slurred as he was losing grip of his equilibrium. People started to react to Dante’s strangeness. Hayden backed people behind him; hands stretched.

            Hayden asked, “Hey man, you alright.” The young man couldn’t answer; he was hastily falling out of control, and out of consciousness.

              The young man fell. He had lost to the drowsiness, and now he fell into a deep stasis of sleep…

 

***

 

Dante woke with a short cry, to a new blinding light. His heart racing, head and back soaked in the icy drips of sweat and water. He shook his head around, looking, not knowing where he woke up into. Soon, insanity disappeared; reality was gripping and steadying him, assembling the colors and hues to gain his vision.

     He was in a small apartment room. From a digital clock on the computer desk across from him, he could tell it was a quarter past four o’clock in the morning. He couldn’t remember all of his last moments before he drifted to sleep, but only the dream, which made him worry of his insecurity. Taking a profound breath, he worked to calm himself.

     What happened, how did I get here? Dante thought confusingly and curiously.

     Music from the below vibrated the structure, but was muffled quietly. The room was occupied of a bed, a chest of drawers and a mirror above it, a bathroom on the left. A kitchen on was on the right, and a grey marbled floor with a rug under a couch and Home theater system of electronic appliances.

    The mood was calm but distorted from the rumbling Hip-Hop music beneath. He could feel the texture of the wall and fur of the rug, it did not seem real but he could feel it bizarrely.

     Dante noticed his feet were bare. He laced up his shoes on his feet, they were ragged and soggy but he stood up with them on. Dante then walked near the door.

      Without warning, a startling sense shocked Dante out of his sleepy state. A slight emotion of worry radiating from behind the door struck him. Dante leaned the side of his head on the door, to hear anything.

       Dante couldn’t identify the figure, but instead heard a pleasant female voice saying, I wonder if the guy got better, we should have called the ambulance but, we really wouldn’t want to cause a panic for the club, especially for Vin and the shop and… the voice was suddenly interrupted as a surprising knock smacked his head and broke his concentration.

      “Ouch,” Dante whispered to himself.

      “Oh!?” a young woman slid between the doorway to see what she hit. “Sorry!” She exclaimed.

       “You’re alright,” She sighed in relief, then after the happiness was covered over by small anger and worry. “Don’t do that, eh, we were about to send you to the hospital.”

        “Well, I’m sorry, I think, but shouldn’t you have sent me to the hospital.” Dante said.

        “Well, come on, lets get you something a cup of coffee, and then I’ll drive you home.” The women’s generosity seemed discomfited for him, just by hearing it coming from her. She gently clutched Dante’s hand, shoved the door abroad and walked downstairs with him.

     What is happening? Dante asked himself in his thoughts. Why was the woman with long, dirty blond hair grasping his very hand? How did he get here? Questions needed to be answered.

     Hayden should’ve called the ambulance, but this guy, I’m guessing, is alright. The voice similar to women who held his hand spoke in a strange echo once again in his head.

     Did she say that? Dante thought. He needed to collect himself to schedule his next move.

     “Uh excuse me, can I just go to the bathroom before I go anywhere.” Dante said, faking his chuckle.

The young woman let go of his hand and smiled, then replied with a nod. “Okay, I’ll tell my friend to start the car then.”

        Ready to depart the women turns back and then says, “Oh wait, my name is Miranda. What’s yours?”

       “Dante.”

        He then departed from her, losing himself into the crowd of dancers, drinkers, and the strange senses he has now acquired. He walked to the restroom area, and entered the men section. The loud, blasting Hip-Hop music was muffled once again and silenced as he closed the door behind him.

       The bathroom walls were painted in baby blue, and left clear white, the white tiles on the floor near the sink were wet and slippery. The lime-green bathroom stalls were rowed on one wall opposite from the row of sinks.

        Dante was attacked by the new senses and discovered no one was in the washroom but himself. Good, he thought, at least I am alone to concentrate on what just has happened to me.

          I am going to kill him! Another loud, lone thought splashed into his mind. Dante’s breathing now became heavy; he was shocked and frightened, took a deep breath and searched the room for anybody.

        If that loser can think he can find me. He should think again. The voice was now clearer, it was hard to recognize with the echoing after every sentence the voice spoke with. The voice was low and angry.

 “Wha-what? Is anyone there!?” Dante shouted, worry tied with his words as they escaped him into the bickering silence Dante now feared what was behind those stall doors.

Who the hell is out there? The disembodied voice continued.

          Dante freaked out when a person bashed open one of the bathroom stalls. A man, who was shorter than him and older by the look of his beard, attached his appearance with the voice. He shouted, “Hey, some people need a bit of privacy and silence!”

 “Sorry,” Dante apologized.

           The stocky man created an angry expression, which screamed the I-am-going-to-kick-your-ass feeling. Yeah, you better be sorry. 

            And he said this, without moving a muscle of his lips.

            Fright shivered throughout his spine. Quickly, he blinked slowly at the man seeing if he mistaken himself of what he just saw.

            Dante’s eyes widen, his brows rose to a crescent.

            Take a picture it will last longer.

           “Take a picture it will last longer,” the man barked walking out of the bathroom, nastily without washing his hands.

              “Whoa!” Dante exclaimed.

              What the hell was that! Dante thought. But still this was all unbelievable, it wasn’t possible. Dante didn’t even see the man move his mouth, or heard an outside voice. It all echoed in his head.

               Dante left the bathroom, and began to walk the path of questions and answers.

RATE THIS BRANCH!

Author Guidance for This Story

Cameron comes up behind me, and turns me to face him.

excerpt from The Incident   by Eponine