Not Tired (Open)

A wind whispered through the quiet town of Springwood, Ohio, rustling a few spare leaves across the asphalt of an empty street. The traffic lights up ahead dangled from their wires with the rhythm of the wind, idle after a long day of blinking from red to yellow to green, and back again. If a traffic light could speak, what would it say? "People should stop fucking traveling so damn much, I'd like a day off once in a while!" But now, at four o' clock in the morning, the traffic lights could finally get their break, at least until a restless soul decided to get a midnight snack or do some early morning shopping at the 24 hour Springwood Mini-Mart.

The wind carried a worn plastic bag down the length of the street, as if it, too, was a passing car, carrying its owner to a destination. Trees waved at the bag as it bounced lazily along. A tireless ant nearby made its way down into a crack in the sidewalk, likely sporting food for its queen. Three bats twirled overhead in the night sky, happy to finally be out for the dark hours of the day. Oh the merry land of Springwood, where everything is just happy and flowing even in the dead of night. But, bathed in the bright glow of an overhead light in the Springwood Diner, one citizen was ready to lay down his load and rest. If only he could.

Nate Willow sat, slumped over the vibrant red-rimmed counter top in front of his swiveling stool. His eyes sluggishly followed the second hand on a clock behind the counter. He synchronized his eyes with the incessant ticking of the clock, attempted to go against the rhythm, and then fell back into the pattern almost immediately because he got bored. No matter how much he'd like to stop looking at this clock and leave this diner and slip silently underneath the covers of his bed, he knew he could not. Tonight was one of his worse nights of insomnia.

The waiter, a girl Nate had never seen before, but could likely be a senior at his high school or a recent graduate, had probably gotten stuck with the graveyard shift trying to pay off one debt or another. Her boss had probably taken advantage of a young woman in need of money, and given her all the shitty shifts because no one else needed the pay enough to take them. Nate gave her a sympathetic smile as she took his mug. She walked over to the steamy coffee pot near the stove and refilled the mug before returning to Nate. He regretted coming here, seeing as how he was the only one around to keep her working. The bags under her eyes shone only briefly between the smiles and occasional chatter between the two. She was keeping up quite well for it being so damn late.

Nate gave a deep sigh as he stared down into the blackness of his coffee, wondering if he could see bags under his eyes if it were water instead. While he was an insomniac, that did not stop him from needing an extra boost. He couldn't sleep, but he could damn well feel like he was dying with the need for rest. Nate surveyed the diner as he had countless times in the past hour, idly wondering if his parents would notice he was gone. Probably not.

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Silence: something everyone needs once in a while. After being surrounded by peppy cheerleaders and a mother that expects a little too much all day, Addison Green needs to escape. If only for a little while. Not only was being in a sport she hated, being at a major competition was like hell.

After waiting for her mother to fall asleep in the hotel bed next to her, Addison silently slips her shoes on, grabs her purse, and slinks out the door. After realizing her freedom, not like her mother would care if she ran away, she sighs with relief. One less bitch-fest from her mother.

As she is riding on the elevator to go down, she realizes she has no idea where she is going. She has two options: the local park, or the diner. As if with perfect timing, the growl of her stomach answered the question.

Slowly, and not so cautiously, Addison makes her way across the street to the diner. It was a quiet place that would suit her well. She opened the glass door, and walked in. She found a seat in the corner, opposite of the one other customer, and began to browse the menu.

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All the while, within that same diner, a small old fashioned box TV sitting atop the end of the counter subtly gave off it's meshed rays of interlaced reds, greens, and blues to perfectly portray the image of a well-groomed well-dressed man in his late 30's. This man, given the task of relaying important world events to all who viewed such a broadcast spoke of several matters each relating to what a freed mind would consider non-sense.

However,

One such report stood from the mire of garbage outspoken; a national unexplained phenomenon in which the random deaths of several people, each having no relation to one another and killed for seemingly no reason, have been tied to suspects donning white masks. Such an occurrence was therefore assumed to be a part of a rapidly growing movement motivated by pagan and satanic doctrines.

A freed mind would know otherwise.

Nothing more was said of the matter.

"Pretty crazy, huh?" Spoke the tired young girl from behind the counter as she methodically wrapped a bundle of spoons, forks, and butter knives within respective individual cloth napkins.

A freed mind would know an unseen truth.

Well, this freed mind didn't give a damn about some random people getting killed by people in white masks. Sure, stuff like this may usually interest a guy like Nate, but at four o' clock in the morning when you're chugging down coffee like your life depends on it, a news flash completely unrelated to Nate was not going to get him riled up. People die every day.. Nate thought to himself with an expression that simply said 'meh'. Props to the killers who do it in style.

Nate's attention switched to the young waitress as she made a remark about the news being "pretty crazy". For her sake, Nate nodded seriously, as if he actually cared. The boy took a coffee straw on a napkin near him and began swirling the pitch black substance in his mug. He dumped a few packets of sugar into swirling coffee, and then kept himself preoccupied by increasing the speed of his stirring until a small coffee vortex formed in the center of his cup. The coffee entranced him. Little things like this could keep him busy for only minutes at a time, but this coffee... it was so... dark...

The teenager's eyes visibly glazed over as they pored over the swirling center of the coffee. Nate left the stirring straw in the coffee, dazedly retracting his hand as the coffee spun and spun. Ten seconds passed and still the liquid swirled in the midst of an invisible disturbance. It was as if he was still stirring, but he was obviously not. The straw lay next to the mug, a drip of coffee threatening to fall from the tip to the counter top. Yet here the coffee was, still stirring.

Nate grasped the mug and brought it closer to him, watching in astonishment as the coffee glistened in the light of the lamp hanging from the ceiling. The swirling got faster and faster until the dip in the center seemed to be reaching down half the height of the mug. With disbelief, Nate let out a long sigh, looking up to see if the waitress was watching this. She stood by the coffee pot near the stove, pulling at her hair as she watched some commercial on TV. Nate surveyed the rest of the room again, finding himself alone as always...

But wait. Didn't I hear the bell ring? Nate turned to the glass door, looked at the brass bell dangling above, ready to jingle if someone entered. I guess not... damn, I must be tired... Suddenly, Nate felt a splash of hot liquid on his face. He wiped at the spot on his face, and then looked down at the coffee still going at it as he had left it. Except now, coffee was splattering everywhere. "What the hell...?" Nate muttered under his breath, peering down into the coffee.

All at once, the coffee seemed to leap out of the mug, attacking his face with a thousand piercing pricks. Nate yelped, nearly falling off his stool before realizing that he was holding the mug. The coffee, now drenching his front, dripped down his face. It was not as hot as Nate had thought. He wiped at his eyes with the napkin on the counter, noticing the waitress looking at him with a wide-eyed expression. Also, out of the corner of his eye, there was another person here. A girl.

"What the hell just happened?" Nate hurriedly asked the waitress, thoroughly confused at all that had occurred in the past minute or so. She gave him a confused, almost frightened look, before opening her mouth to speak. "Well, you just sat there staring at your coffee for a long while, and then out of the blue you just splashed it all over you!" Her face was white, but a smile crept onto her face. "I guess you were asleep." That struck a chord with Nate. Asleep? I guess my insomnia let up. Nate gave a nervous chuckle and resumed dabbing at his drenched shirt. What the fuck...

The diner Addison had found herself in, had the small town feel. It had the tired, lack luster waitress, some random teenage queer that looks as if he hadn't slept in a week, and the common colors of red and white. It all felt so homey. It was something that Addison never had felt before. She realized, with her mother, nothing would ever feel homey.

Addison snapped out of her day dreaming of a cliche life with a normal mom, and a dad that wasn't dead, to find a commercial talking of mysterious deaths. At least the killer had enough skill to not get caught Addison thought to herself with a smirk that showed envy. She could only hope for the chance to be able to get away with a murder with clean hands. Alas, a girl can only dream.

When the waitress appears next to Addison's table asking for the typical: drink and what to eat, Addison realizes, she has come to a restaurant with no idea of even eating. "Umm, I-i'll have th-the eggs, and and a wa-water." The nurse quickly jots it down on her note pad, and wanders back behind the counter.

As Addison is tossing the ideas of why her stutter became so bad around the waitress, she looks up, and notices the other customer. He is staring starry-eyed into his coffee mug. What is he seeing in there? Addison thinks to herself. She comes to notice that she is trying so desperately to make eye contact with this boy, she is leaning into the table and squinting across the diner. She leans back and drops her gaze before drawing attention to herself.

When he begins to yell, Addison looks up to see that he has dumped his coffee onto himself. If only he would look at me! Addison wanted to know what he was feeling that would make him spill coffee on himself. In hopes of having the one on one it would probably require, she arose from her seat. She walked across the diner, and simply sat down next to him at the bar with the most compassionate face Addison can fabricate.

Nate's face turned a beet red after a few seconds of awkwardly dabbing at the dark stains on his nice grey and white striped v-neck. The waitress brought him a wet rag after a few moments of watching the pitiful teen trying and get as much of the coffee off of the shirt before it could dry and be ruined forever. Nate scrubbed and scrubbed until the stain was a pale beige, and decided that there was no more that could be done. The coffee, and his crazy-ass mind, had effectively ruined one of Nate's favorite shirts. Dejectedly, he slumped down onto the counter top in front of him and pushed the coffee mug off to side next to the napkin dispenser.

It was out of the corner of his eye that he noticed the newest visitor rise up from her seat on the other side of the diner and make her way over to the counter. Nate eyed the waitress, watching her returning to her duties and crack and egg over a pan on the stove. He had not ordered any food, so the girl was likely coming over here to wait for her eggs. Nate took a few moments to rest his tired eyes before realizing the consequences that might impose, and he angrily popped them open once more and sniffed at the air for the pungent stench of eggs. Anything to keep him alert, even if it did smell like Hell had a bowel movement.

The girl may have been waiting for her eggs, but she was being strangely friendly for someone waiting for eggs. After a quick glance, the teenager noticed that the chick was staring at him with creepiest smile. Maybe an attempt at kindness, but received more as an attempt at "Hey sexy, you wanna get in my pants?" The boy turned to face her, having had enough with being tired and doing nothing. "Hello." he stated simply, staring at her with the best blank expression he could conjure. "I guess you just saw me spill coffee on myself. Fell asleep, I guess." Nate shrugged at the girl, waiting for her to reply to him as the waitress slid a plate of eggs across the counter in front of the girl.

"Here are you eggs, ma'am." the waitress said cheerfully. Maybe she was enjoying the tension in the room as much as Nate hated it.

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Golden eggs slide across to Addison as her concentration is broken. She looks down to realize, she didn't order them sunny-side-up. As always, Addison's stutter has caused her to get distracted and forget an important detail to the simplest things.

Addison sits there for a few moments, waiting and waiting, for the teen to look up to her. Upon raising his head, he looks really put back. He looks like he has either seen a ghost, or a dead animal on the side of the road all mixed with trying not to laugh. He simply utters, "Hello."

Addison, relieved that he has at least acknowledged her, turns back to play with the eggs. He babbles something about spilling his coffee on himself, which, in all reality, Addison had completely forgotten about.

"I fucking hate scrambled eggs. " The only thing Addison can think to say back to the poor kid, and it probably made her seem like a pissed off freak. In hopes of turning the conversation back in a positive direction, Addison quickly adds, "Who fuck wants to eat an egg, that someone whipped together, and looks like yellow dirt. "

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The teenager stared at the girl as she barely even received his glance or his simple comment; the leash he could have expected from a complete stranger who had just freaked him the fuck out with some ass-raping smile was a cheery greeting back. But no, this chick basically ignored him for about a good while, turning to face the eggs that had just arrived. She forked them across the plate, almost nervously if Nate were to assign an emotion to the action. She seemed a little fidgety, actually, all around. The first thing Nate heard the girl say was "I fucking hate scrambled eggs." What a lovely way to reply to a hello.

The waitress, now seated at a small stool far enough away from the TV to watch it while not blinding herself, snapped her attention from the silver screen on the wall to the rude young lady who had just complained about her eggs. Nate wondered silently if the girl had ordered something other than scrambled eggs, or if maybe she was just being rude to impress him. He rolled his eyes and turned up to watch the program on TV, some crap about teen mothers and their overbearing parents. He seriously doubted the teens wanted to have been featured on this program. It was honestly a bit embarrassing just watching reality shows like this. If Nate were pregnant, if that were even possible, he would never want to make money off of it. Of course, Nate fancied himself too smart to do anything with anyone this early in life anyways, so no chance there.

Nate saw again out of his peripherals that the girl had yet again turned toward him as if to start a conversation. Though he already did not like the way she had complained about the eggs the waitress had graciously cooked for her at this late hour, he might as well give this chick another chance. But, any positive outlook he may have on her was promptly ruined by some comment about the shoddy preparation of the eggs, and how she thought it resembled yellow dirt. The waitress turned away this time, likely not meaning to have offended the girl. Nate gave the rude chick a "What the fuck?" look. "Now was that really needed?" Nate rolled his eyes and gestured over to the poor waitress, retreating through a swinging door to a backroom.

"This waitress is having to work the graveyard shift, she's only like 19 years old, and you're going to start complaining about the way she made the eggs? Maybe she just made a mistake, she is human ya know!" Nate turned back to the counter, a little surprised with his brash outburst on this stranger, who probably did not really deserve this rage and whom was also probably just trying to impress him when she was bitching about the eggs. "Look, I'm sorry for that, I'm super tired." Nate said apologetically, turning to the girl. "My name's Nate... yours?"

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"Woah, there is no need for all of the fucking outburst! I didn't say one damn thing about the way the waitress cooked the eggs, i simply don't like them. It's my fucking fault they came this way. You need to get your fucking panties in a wad. FUCK! "

Addison erupted on Nate. In all honesty, he was probably right. The waitress was working the graveyard shift, probably trying to pay for formula for a kid. Addison should have simply kept her mouth shut about the eggs, but the barrier between what is supposed to be said, and what should be kept to herself was backwards. Addison just let it flow.

And it had happened again. Nate didn't deserve what he had just encountered. She could have told him the way she felt in a civilized manner, but she learned in her life: it was all or nothing.

" Look, Nate, i'm sorry. I'm just not good with new people, and can we just start over? I'm Addison. "

Probably another failed attempt at being civil, and a compassionate face. She just wanted to seem like someone Nate could disclose with. Something about him was, different. Addison awareness picked up on it the moment she sat down, and it only increased when she heard his voice. She wanted to know what it was. Something had made her choose to come to this diner. Something had pulled her to sit next to him. Something had pulled her to talk to him to the best of her ability. Her next goal: find what that thing was pulling her to him.

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Addison.

At first she was indeed what she was; just a young girl not much older and not much younger then Nate himself. It was not until that anomalous moment, when all was quite unlike as it should, that the questions would perhaps surmise.

And it came to be, when the sounds of that small television became nothing more than garbled noises and the diner itself a stagnant space, that Nate would see it and such a sight would last for but a moment's moment; an eternal image perhaps branded in his mind.

It began first with Addison's face. It was as that of the darkest demon's from the darkest pit and it was eyeless; callously charred by the ever burning fires of hell itself. Such a sight beat like the beating of a drum, back and forth from what was to what is as if two contending forces, as if light against dark.

Not long after, it was the diner itself.

The walls, the floors, the windows, the ceiling, all became as though derelict, abandoned, and black. It was then, in that place of darker nightmares, that the air and the walls waned and waxed as though inhaling and exhaling in suite with Nate's own breathings, or perhaps, that of another singular entity that loomed in the very shadows orchestrating this turn of events.

Indeed,

Though Nate could not see such a presence, it's presence loomed obvious, prevalent; dominant as though towering in the very space behind him and staring downward with a sneering grin filled of malicious delight.

Suddenly, Addison thrust a violent hand at Nate alongside the scream of a siren each grasping at his very heart.

Such a vision came suddenly.

And so suddenly,

The voices from the television became normal.

The lights of the diner became normal.

All was as it was and remained unchanged.

Perhaps a dream.

Perhaps not.

When the girl did not reply to his "Yours?", Nate decided that it was probably time to give up hope that this chick would ever act like a civilized human being. He turned back to his mug next to the napkin dispenser, and grabbed a few cups of creamer, pulling at the tabs so that he could pour the creamer in the mug. Wasteful, yes, but somehow entertaining in the teenage boy's eyes. It was not until he had just gotten the cover off of the first creamer cup he had picked up that the chick blew her shit. She began to scream lewd things at Nate, with an f-bomb nearly every other word. The teenager was just about tired of dealing with this girl, who could just not make friends. When he had tried talking to her the first time, she had been an ass about the eggs. Now she was being even more of an ass since Nate had pointed out how she did not need to BE such an ass.

Once the girl was in the middle of her rampage, saying "It's my fucking fault..." something or other, Nate decided finally that he had had enough of this girl and that going home would, for once in his life, be the best option. Even if the girl had been about to take the blame for something she had done, Nate was tired of giving her more chances. She was too defensive and when she was not cussing trying to defend herself, she was cussing about something or someone else for no damn reason. And Nate... well, he could sure cuss up a storm, but he hated having to listen to it from another people, especially when it was involving stupid shit like scrambled eggs. He turned in his stool to face the girl, a small satchel he had brought with him in his hand. About to step off the stool, Nate stopped to see the fury in this girl's eyes. Man, she was angry!

Nate blinked a few times. He saw a spark. A light. A flicker across her face. She stopped talking. Nate did not even know what she had just said. Another flicker. A flame. A flicker of fire. Nate felt woozy, all of a sudden. He felt the need to blink constantly, so he did, trying to figure out what the hell was wrong with him. He leaned back against the stool, still staring at the girl. His eyes suddenly could not focus, and he felt himself starting to lose consciousness. A few more blinks... Her eyes flared. A flash of something else! Nate yelped at her, watching as her face melted away as an invisible slashed away at her skin. The gashes deepened, became red, started to bleed and then coagulated as if being subjected to an intense heat. Although he could barely break his attention away from the monstrosity manifesting before him, he felt the room crumble away. The walls chipped away into blackness, coming in bursts as if caused by the greedy licking of an open fire. The windows shattered and glass sprayed the floor like ocean foam. The linoleum of the floor peeled back to reveal molding, old wood. The stool beneath him sunk down a notch as a floorboard gave way, causing him to come out of his immobile state.

The girl before him was no longer a girl at all. It was something entirely different, something that Nate could not immediately remember seeing his life, but with a face that caused such a haunting nostalgia that Nate felt like screaming right then and there. That charred face... where did the girl go? Where the fuck was he?! AM I DREAMING?! WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?! Nate thought to himself frantically, attempting to raise up from his stool and flee the diner. But now, for whatever reason, he was again immobile. His arms left as if they were strapped to invisible armrests, his legs belted to the suddenly rusted metal legs. His entire body convulsed forward as a smile crept upon the thing's face. A hand jutted out in front of the thing, headed straight for Nate's chest. His eyes bloodshot and his nerves fried, Nate let out one huge scream in front of him.

"I'm Addison." was all that the teenager could hear. Nate blinked once more. Back at the diner. The girl sat in front of him with that same weirdo smile. Nate frantically looked around him for some sign of the room he had just been in. The linoleum was intact, the windows were unbroken, the wallpaper was ratty, but not any different than it had ever been. The TV played a jingle, the coffee pot shrieked, and Nate hastily stood up out of the stool. "I... I don't...." Nate looked around him for SOME sort of consolation. Addison obviously had no idea what had just happened, and did not seem to be affected by it in the least. His eyes welled up with tears as he again surveyed the diner. Nothing. Not a single thing was left over from whatever the fuck he had just seen. Maybe I'm going crazy... No, no, I'm just tired. I fell asleep again, or something... Nate thought to himself, his mental voice shaky while his real voice was not functioning at all. "Did you... I don't... I..." Nate mumbled fearfully. Enough was enough, standing here trying to communicate with this girl was not working.

Nate turned to the glass door and threw it open, his satchel flapping behind him.

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They say the human mind will change what it wants. It can convince its inhabitant that a lie is the truth. It would change everything about a person, and they would believe it. It can change the way a person acts, the way a person thinks, and change how gifts work. In the split second that Nate was consumed by something inhuman, Addison's gifts completely ignored it. In a normal moment, she would have sensed the immediate change in the atmosphere. She would have tried to understand, and fix whatever was afflicting Nate, even though it was only for a small fraction of time.

It didn't hit Addison until Nate looked at her crazy-eyed. She immediately knew she had missed something, or Nate did not approve of her trying to start over.

"Nate?" Addison asked suddenly concerned. The last thing on her mind at this point was the eggs now picked apart, and spread unevenly across the plate. She yearned for him to look her into the eyes. She wanted to know what was under those emotional eyes.

He suddenly leaped up, and ran for the door. Addison did the cliche thing of quickly throwing a random amount of money on the counter for her's and Nate's order and chased after. He had just reached the glass door of the diner when Addison grabbed a hold of Nate's arm.

"Nate! What happened!" Addison asked him frantically. The waitress realizing the commotion, rises from her seat. With a concerned look on her face, she brushes it off. She has probably seen worse, and doesn't want to get wrapped in some other random hick's drama. She simply went on with cleaning up the uneaten plate, and Nate's coffee. It all seemed so normal, but inside something was stirring.

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Nothing penetrated the eardrums of the teenager storming out of the Springwood Diner in the dead of the night. Only the blackness around him spoke of anything meaningful, and the words it spoke were less than pleasant to the ears of a teenage boy who had just seen a flash of something so evil, so destructive, so... so real for nothing more than a flash. The teenager turned the glimpses he had caught during the vision into still images within the deep recesses of his disturbed mind. Each image spoke a thousand words, of torment and a shaded past, filled Nate's nostrils with the rotten, sour stench of decay. Occasional moments of hesitation caused the teenager to dwell on specific events during the vision that had terrified him the most; the chair sinking into the crumbling linoleum, the walls blackening with sudden age, Addison's hand coming at him with ferocity and swiftness, determined to... to do what?

Nate ventured a glance behind him at the girl who had just completely mortified him for the next few weeks. In must have been her fault. He did not know exactly how she had done what she had, but weird things happened all the time out there in the world. Maybe she was some kind of psycho, telepathic mutant, like in the world of comic books and sci-fi action flicks. Hey, anything could happen. For all he knew, Addison was nothing more than some demonic, otherworldly being sent to destroy him with visions of what seemed like hell itself. Addison's face was full of worry and her lips curved in slow-motion in order to form syllables required for words of worry and caring. But, Nate was done with giving this chick more chances. She could be a bitch all she wanted, but she was not going to do what she had just done to him, ever again. To ensure that she would not, Nate walked a few steps before spinning around and confronting the girl behind him.

"I swear, if you ever come near me one more time, I will call the police. I don't know what the fuck you did in there, but I suggest you get your fucking head checked or you're gonna end up in prison or the loony bin. As long as you're out of Springwood, either is fine with me." Nate fumed for a few good dramatic moments, reminding him of his short-lived career as a student actor. "So, if you follow me home or anywhere for that matter, I will call the cops and have you arrested for harassment." With that, Nate turned flippantly away from Addison and walked briskly across the street to the sidewalk. Taking no time to look behind him, he changed his pace to more of a jog, then a run, then an all-out sprint. His face, red with anger and embarrassment, at all that had just happened in the past thirty minutes, contorted into a face about to break a dam. Nate sucked it back before he could give in to these stupid, pointless emotions, and reached the intersection that would lead one way to his house, and one way to the heart of town, including a mini-mall, an antique store, a gas station, and a train depot. Unable to make a decision, Nate crossed his arms and leaned against a nearby street lamp.

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There stood, in that very same expanse of dimly lit atmosphere, another and it watched with an eyeless face cast upon him from a place in the deeper darkness across the way. Though it made no particular effort to remain hidden, it's fullness was hidden nonetheless and yet clearly visible to the eye.

There, across the way, not far yet not close, that taller being stood watching Nate with an eyeless sight given. It's slender figure and it's alabaster white skin offered clear testament to the obvious nature of it's being; it was no animal, it was no human. And it watched without an eye given; such a faceless being as this was all that was given.

The air grew heavy.

A subtle increase in pressure took the role of a harbinger of two options, run and run. Though the intent of such a watcher was yet unknown, such a watcher watched for a reason and what reason that may be was one of which no man knows from what mind it springs.

There it stood.

There it watched.

The cold metal of the black, lantern-topped streetlamp felt soothing against Nate's tired neck as he slid down the length of the pole. The ground awaited him at the bottom, feeling much like when one took an elevator to the ground floor, and the relief some paranoid people felt when they realized they had indeed made it safely to their destination without the cables breaking or the power going out or someone else in the elevator pulling out a gun and making a slaughter of the last five minutes of their life or... Nate hushed his unsettled conscience. The teenager let his eye lids slip lightly over his bright blue irises, drinking in the last of the embracing darkness around him. Only the beating of his own now-steady heart rang in his eardrums, a numb pulsation that finally allowed him to shut off his brain. His heart sunk into the daily dull rhythm that gave him comfort, like any person or thing that only did what it had always done to hang onto something normal and familiar. Tonight had been quite a night, and Nate really just wanted to forget about the whole thing.

The outside world became a distant thing. Nate's head lolled about like that of a rag-doll or a puppet with no master. His eyes fluttered wildly behind his eyelids, seeing pictures of sunny beaches and beautiful sunsets on marvelous mounds of marble among flowers made of paper and bits of rock candy. All the scenes featured something beautiful, and involved Nate as if he were there himself. But, Nate felt something nagging at his brain. He could not possibly be in these places, he did not even have his driver's license yet, and it was much too late for the sun to be out. Or early, to be irritatingly technical.

Nate's eyelashes parted as his jerked his head upward and took in the sight of the dark street with the single overhead streetlamp for illumination. The distant lights of the quiet heart of Springwood shone down the street to the left and an even blacker darkness than here presided down the street to the right. Nate licked his lips and pushed himself up off the dusty concrete of the sidewalk, brushing his pants off and then adjusting his astray satchel to fit nicely into the curve of his shoulder blade all the way across the upper half of his chest. Nate remembered that, before he had dozed off here on the street corner like a homeless person, he had been trying to decide where to go from here. He pondered the two options again.

Home. Away. Home. Away. Parents. Escape. Parents. Escape. Prison. Freedom. Prison. Stranger. Freedom. Stranger. Stranger. Nate's eyes remained locked in the center of the two streets, directly across the road from Nate. A stranger, hiding in the shadow of the nighttime. Nate peered over the way at what he thought was the face of the stranger. White, white as a sheet, and... seemingly featureless. Beady eyes with gray irises maybe? Pursed, pale lips? A sensation ran through Nate's body the longer that he stared at the still, silent, sightly visage of the unknown being. It grew and grew, building up pressure until Nate's mind screamed at him with certainty: "Run." Nate took a few cautious steps away from the streetlamp, the bottom of his shoe coming in contact with the cooling asphalt of the street. There he stopped, watching as the stranger stared at him with no possible way of staring that Nate could tell. His mind told him again to get out, escape, run as far away from here as possible, back to the safety of sheets and blankets and fluffy pillows, to the security of sleep, where striking eyes could not reach, peering over windowsills or perched upon tree branches. But his body said no, I am tired. And his mind and his body fought a great war, an enormous fight that lasted only a few seconds. And Nate made his decision.

Nate ignored the two roads on either side of him, and brought his left foot to meet its brother on the asphalt. Seemingly in slow-motion, Nate moved across the street, making a straight march toward the stranger watching him. His mind justified itself hurriedly to his body, "You have been running quite a bit today, I suppose a little courage never hurt anyone." His body responded triumphantly, carrying him the rest of the way to the stranger. Nate brought one foot up onto the sidewalk, his eyes gazing at the entity before him. His mind held its breath and his body started to regret being so stubborn. But, it was too late now.

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