The Loneliest Caster

Chapter 2

O God here we go again. Stacey shuts her eyes and takes a deep breath. She knows exactly what she’s about to see. The scene before her will be like a school photo shoot, like someone putting up a white sheet and placing it right in the middle. All the vivid colors will seem too bright against the white. Taking a step forward, even though she knows she shouldn’t, she opens her eyes and takes in the scene.

A single swing hanging from a rusted red frame and underneath is a small bed of rocks: brown and yellow, the typical colors, and then green, purple, pink and blue. The rocks fade into a thick freshly cut grass and the grass then fades into the white background. A few feet away from the swing is a bench with glossed wood and seems out of place against the aged swing. Not moving, she takes in the dulled yellow seat and the dark grey chains on the swing. Closing her eyes once again, she takes another deep breath.

The smell is intoxicating: the dirt, rocks, and grass mix with an absolutely invigorating smell of earth. A flowery vanilla perfume fills the air, and the cologne is the perfumes mate with a masculine musk added. Then she’s hit with the smell of innocence, a lotion made specifically for children. She inhales and exhales a few times, then braces herself for the sound.

A high squealing laughter fills the air, along with the squeaks from the swing. Her eyes snap open while her breath catches at the new presence in the scene. The swing is now occupied by a beautiful young girl. Then two adults laugh joining in, Stacey takes another step forward, her heart begins to beat faster, and she looks from left to right.

On the bench, a woman sits holding open a book, not really reading it. Behind the child, a man stands pushing her higher and higher. Tears fill Stacey’s eyes. Man, this is stupid. Why am I crying? She can’t tell if she’s still breathing but she knows exactly what she’s seeing… her family. Mother and father, then there she is on the swing. Stacey knows she’s dreaming, but she doesn’t want to wake up, she never wants to wake up. She walks over to the bench and sits down next to her mother.

She, of course, doesn’t notice, Stacey is just watching an old memory. She tries to take everything in about her mother. God she gets more beautiful every time I have this dream. Long dark brunette hair, a thin frame, smooth porcelain skin, but none of that compares to her eyes. She reaches up to touch her mother’s face but lets her hand fall. She couldn’t feel it and neither would Stacey. The outer part of her pupil is a deep rich brown, pulling towards the middle. This then fades into a lighter honey gold that bursts away from the center. Then, of course, the dark green specks that seemed to speckle and hide within the hazel pattern. She loves her mother's eyes so unique, but you really had to look to see all the wonderful colors. She always surprises herself at how well she remembers this, as she was only eight when this memory takes place. She watches how her mother holds herself as she sits with one leg tucked under her. Her posture is godly, but still manages to look completely comfortable. Stacey straightens up to mimic her mother and although she has her mother’s height, skin, and hair, she still feels inferior. She finally takes her eyes away to watch the other two.

Her father was the most handsome man that ever lived. No one can ever tell me different. She walks over to the swing set, wrapping her arms around the steel bar as she leans against it. He was tall, dark, and handsome. Stacey smiles to herself. I bet mom had her hands full beating the women off. Stacey laughs and then falls silent as she looks at him, probably more so than her mother. His skin was rough and tan. They said he did construction. Stacey doesn’t remember that. It seemed like he had hair everywhere, all over his arms and legs. Seeing as its summer, he’s wearing shorts and a t-shirt, Stacey’s smile widens, he’s wearing tube socks. His hair is a dark rich brown, not too long, it was not too short, a handsome cut. She takes a short second to take this in, then fixes her gaze on his eyes. Out of all the beauty her mother gave her, her father gave her his eyes. That is the one trait that she takes the utmost pride in. Her mother’s eyes were beautiful, his eyes were a striking explosion. When she looks in the mirror she can only see one shade of dull green, but it seems like he has so many more. She sighs and unwillingly looks at herself.

Stacey sits down as she watches her father push her on the swing. She looked so happy, completely unaware of the world. The wind blows through her young hair and her cheeks are red from laughing so much. Stacey leans her head against the pole and sighs again. I was a tall kid, at least for my age compared to others. Stacey thinks what she’s seeing is what she remembers from pictures, but she doesn’t really care about herself. She forces herself up knowing good and well what is about to happen. She turns to walk toward her mother but she’s not fast enough.

The wind rips past her as the color gets sucked away, taking the sound with it. Stacey starts to run, she’s not in the place she wants to be. Her heart jumps and she feels helpless, she can’t move fast enough. Everything slows down, even Stacey. She can’t help but to scream as a rain of bullets falls down on her mother, still smiling at her child. Stacey can see every strike on her mother’s torso and the black blood spray from her body. She watches in horror as the book falls to the ground and her mother’s body falls in a heap on the bench. Stacey takes one second to look into her mother’s eyes, now filled with fear and death. Tears start rolling down Stacey’s face as she whips around to see her father grab her off the swing. Stacey pushes with all her strength to run beside them.

The sound snaps back and they are running at a normal speed. Only Stacey isn’t running beside them, she’s in her father's arms, eight years old and scared to death. She clings to him crying and screaming.

“MOMMY!” she hears herself scream.

“Shush baby, just don’t look back!” she hears him whisper to her.

She tries not to make a sound. When daddy said to do something she did it, no ifs ands or buts. She lets the scene flow, already knowing the outcome. She knows every move and word, she doesn’t want to cry, but she can’t help herself. She’s no longer in control, just part of the dream and she has to play the rest out as the victim.

“Daddy, the monsters are coming!” she says to her father. She can see the men running behind them, and it seems like they are getting faster. This is the frustrating part: they look like monsters. No matter how many times Stacey has this damn dream, they never look like people, always monsters!

There are three shapeless black things moving faster and faster towards them. They have red glowing eyes and their bodies move from side to side, gaining on them. She grips her father and feels herself tremble. She’s not scared anymore, upset with grief for her mother, but not scared. She feels anger. How dare someone take my mother, rip her from me like that!? Then she feels a strange power coming from inside of her and she stops crying. It seems like her father is slowing down, although she knows he’s running with all his might. She takes one glance at her father and sees the fear in his eyes. How could someone make my daddy, my super hero, scared? This angers her even more and she flings her hand at the monsters as if to stop them in their tracks.

How weird is it that this actually works? She gets confused as the monsters freeze for a few seconds then slowly regain their strength and begin the chase again. She’s shocked but pleased that this has helped her father gain some distance. This, of course, didn’t really happen. Stacey guesses having the same dream for year’s messes up the flow. He turns a corner and they’re in an alley… oh God it’s a dead end. Her father throws her behind a dumpster.

“Now you listen. No matter what you hear or see, you are not to move from this spot until the police come, understood? Baby I love you and you have to listen,” he races through the sentence as she begins to realize what he is saying.

“Daddy, please no! Mommy is… please don’t leave me,” she whispers. Stacey says this out of habit. She knows he’s about to die. She hasn’t forgotten that she’s still in a dream that the end is near. She feels a new wave of tears roll down her face. How could she have known this young that this was the last time that she would see her father?

“Baby, listen to me, and listen good. You are special and these men want that from you. Don’t you dare let them have you, you are to special to give up. I need you to remember what I am saying to you. You are SPECIAL. One day you will understand, but for now you just need to survive. For mommy… for me,” he whispers so low that she can barely hear the last two words.

She hugs close to the dumpster and watches as he steps out into the middle of the alley. Their eyes lock for one long moment. He looks like he is in pain, physical pain, then out of nowhere he smiles. It is so handsome and inviting that she can’t help but smile back. Then his eyes fall out of focus, he winks once and turns to face away from her. She holds her breath as the sound of three sets of footsteps slow from a run to a stop.

“Kill me if you must, but you will never have her… MY special baby will never be yours,” her father growls at the men. She can’t see anything but her father, but she knows the men are there, she can hear them breathing. Her father tenses and she can’t stand it anymore. She screams. She knows she’s not going to be fast enough, but she still jumps up and runs to him. The bullets rip into his chest, spraying the same black blood as her mother. It seems like it takes forever for him to reach the ground. He looks at Stacey in horror and then one last glance at the sky. She falls to her knees and watches as his last breath releases his life to whoever he is looking to. She feels the rage pumping through her now, her tiny body shivering in anger and she jumps up to face the monsters…