"The Fallen of Quivere" Power-Keepers

Chapter 1
The Dream

         Another, dark, room haunts me in my dreams. A man stands in the darkness of the room.  Only the illuminating shadow of a tall man with a brim hat stands within.  Then, suddenly the lights switched on.  I had to squint as the bright lights burns my eyes. When you become old as I, you start to become sensitive to light and have trouble focusing.
         The man eventually came into view; equipped with a red briefcase, a black tailored suit, and black glasses. He seemed to be a high power man, of importance with his perfect posture glaring strictly towards me.  Under his black hat were small brown haired strands perfectly in alignment, not one hair fell out of place.
         “Good morning,” he said, as he grabbed a chair, “well, have a seat.”
         “I paused for a moment.  I have been tricked so many times that I needed to focus and gather my thoughts prior to sitting down. I pondered on what he’s darkest secrets were? He did not frighten me and he clearly had no power over me as well.  I wanted to crack him, break him down, make him feel locked up in this dreadful place.  Like so many others; I engaged myself in his aurora.  He was quiet, calm, and nothing dangerous or threatening. Usually some one’s aura would be frightened to see me or they were disgusted.  After approximately five minutes of silence, I sat down.
         “Let’s start shall we?” He said with hidden enthusiasm. 
         “I suppose,” I said in reassurance.  Why does he feel, that my story is headline news.  NOTHING in my life is worth honoring.  I’ve done things that I’m not proud of, but I had to tell the truth.  The man then continued our conversation.
         ““For the record, I’m recording. What is your name?” 
         ““Which one?” I responded in ecstasy, clearly showing a smirk on my face.  I had several names, all of which I never really liked.  There was Ray, Simon, Jake..............Aubrey, and my favorite Phil.  But with two many names come too many perils.  Then he responded with a very impatient tone,
         “The one on your birth certificate, please?” 
         “I pause trying to remember.  It’s been so long since I used my birth name, but it always came with a haunted memory.  The hallways filled with shadows and the dark prickling sensation falls down my spine. Someone was behind me and I jerk around sending a cooling flow from the back of the shoulders to the toes. My gut turned upside down making me stagger into complete, total, darkness. The only sound I remember hearing threw my ears is a voice screaming my name,
         “Stiphen..... Stiphen................... hold on Stiphen.”  Then the darkness took me from those memories blocked in my mind; memories I never wished to encounter.
         “Heeeelllllooooo?” The man yelled in a staggered tone. The room came back to view and the man was snapping his fingers in front of my face.  I looked at him irritated and pushed his hand away from my face. I told him calmly, but very intensely and severely,
         “It was STIPHEN!” The thought of the name jumped a volt in my body, piercing me.  I collapsed on the floor holding my chest.  Its loud pounding was growing in volume and I could not hear myself think. It was so earsplitting, so painful that I was surprised my new foe could not hear my heart pounding.  Stiphen was never a good name for me and having a long pause occur after words really help set the mood.
         “  He will never know what’s in a name.  Receiving a name that was given to him at birth, by parent’s selection, wasn’t my people’s culture.  My name didn’t have that option for it was chosen before I was born.  Mine name was chosen by fate.  He continued and said almost as a mock, trying to get me angry,
         “I’m sorry; I did not know the name was so hurtful to you.... why?..........” He began, and then died off, as if he didn’t want to ask, but I knew he wanted an answer.  I really couldn’t figure out why I was here or what he wanted.  I relaxed, took in a deep breath, and pondered on how I was going to respond.  There was nothing to lose since the “accident” so there was no reason I couldn’t give him a piece of the truth. 
         “It was chosen by my father.  Stiphen means ‘Fallen 3.’” I told him completely honest, “I was in my home planet of Kasaar; the 3rd shadow world of Turskeven about 50,000 light years away.”
         “His eyes widen as if he had never heard it before.  He obviously never listens to the people around this place.  Humans are intelligent, but they always react in response to their emotions and they are so weak.  When it comes to the truth of life, I was once considered human, but underneath it all; I was not.  I could not form relationships or give off emotions.  I was always destined to be alone; to never gain friendship due to my immortality. 
         “I was sent here on earth due to the fact that I was the third child.” I continued,
         “In my home, families are not allowed to have three children because of the Eliminists….  They are all powerful creatures who don’t have a body.  One of them cursed our planet giving children the ‘third child’ abilities, to decide the fate of our planet.  The Eliminists are.... everywhere at the same time........ Inside you’re head, inside this planet…inside the fabric of space and time. They can cross a million light-years in a single instant, make entire world disappear, …and can even stop time itself.”
         “The man paused trying to gather his thoughts.  I could tell on his face and feeling his aurora there were only two types of emotions visible. He either thought that this was the best science fiction novel he had every heard …or he thought I was crazy.  Either way, I knew he didn’t believe me.  I had to at least tell them and warn about what was coming ahead. 
         “I’m here to tell you that your world is being invaded by more ‘fallen three’ children of Kasaar every day...  I’m afraid that your human race will be destroyed just like so many others…. You will become extinct just like the animals that you destroyed…. It is what you called natural selection, am I right?” 
         “He sat there for a few minutes.  I wonder what he was thinking.  What his mind kept telling him.  I knew his face showed the feeling of denial or that I was crazy.
         “We, the oldest of three, are still praying for a child, a chosen king, to save our planet.  Please if you liberate me, I will go find him.”  He looked away, put his briefcase back into his hand and left the room slamming the door behind him. 
Then the siren went on announcing to the guards to come in and transfer me.  They came in and one screamed,
         “Let’s move...................let’s move!”


         “LETS MOVE....................GET UP....................NOW RILEY!” The alarm clock buzzed right in my ear.  I moved my head side to side thinking, good grief what a wake up call, and finally I took a glance at the clock reading a quarter past six.
         Having only slept for two hours, I was exhausted. That dream repeated in my head continuously, but I knew if I lay in bed it would not help my current situation.
         As much as I disliked high school, I knew my grades would surely slide from a D+ to F and I couldn’t afford that to happen. I wasn’t going to take sophomore year twice. I got up out of bed, slipped into my favorite black T-shirt and my black cargo pants to match.  You can say that I’m gothic, but I don’t feel I should be labeled in such a way.
         “I always loved the feeling when I wear a certain type of clothing and people don’t look rich to show who they are. I got out of the bathroom, looked in the mirror and examined myself.
         “Well this is the best it’s going to get,” I told the boy in the mirror.
          Being only 5’8” I always had a problem fitting in. So my theory was to go out of the norm wearing spike bracelets and skulls just to be different.  One time I even wore cat split eye contacts to cover the bright green eyes because someone told me my eyes were feministic and I wasn’t going to have people call me that. 
         I dyed my hair jet-black and spiked up my bangs so they didn’t fall in my face.  My bangs were long and caste a shadow upon my right eye. As I said before, today was the first day at Milkwood High School, home of the Spiders, but I never was very enthused. I hated school and it never was for me. 
         Walking downstairs, I smelled the French toast from the kitchen. It was always that way, having cheap carbs for breakfast. Not saying I hate it; I just wish we could afford something different.  The table was always silent at breakfast mainly because my dad would be out of town for long periods of time at his company, IRB, and didn’t care much about what our family did when he was gone. 
         My mother would prepare to teach 2nd graders and so she always had her head in her books during breakfast. I did wonder how their marriage was surviving; they barely spoke to each other.  Across the table was my sister, Amanda, gulping down her fruit loops while managing to push her blond hair out of the way. She can be so annoying sometimes, okay must of the time, but she’s still my sister.  I can say my family was normal, but if you thought about it; what was a normal family?
         ”Riley,” My mother called out to me waving her spoon towards me, her brown eyes stared, “You’re going to be late again.”
         “Always I’m.” I grinned with faked enthusiasm and grabbed a seat.
         “Well not this year,” My Mom continued imitating me and then scooped another bite, “I have signed you up for the bus and you have…”
She took a bite, dropped her spoon into the bowl, and then held up her wrist watch, “5 minutes.”
         “What?!” I argued, “You’re not taking me to school?” I was appalled.
         “Nope…” She said with flakes in her mouth, “You’re father thought it would be a good independent step up for you.” I slouched into my chair, crossed my arms, and mumbled under my breath,
         He doesn’t want to waste gas.” Before she could argue, the bus honk outside of the window and my heart skipped a beat.  I jump straight out of my chair, grabbed my backpack and ran out the door with a pop tart in my hand.
         I apparently picked up a bus with the Gate stock High school students, since most of the colors were yellow and blue.  It usually would be no big of a deal, except they were Milkwood’s enemies.  The red tail hawk was their mascot and ever since they drew the hawk devouring our spider, we always wanted revenge. 
While walking down on the bus isle, I noticed some stupid idiots spraying cans of soda out of the bus windows.  All of the riders completely ignored me and I knew it was because of mine gothic ness.  I know I’m not the strongest man on the block, but if you dress gothic they figured you’re someone they shouldn’t mess with. 
         I noticed they weren’t the only ones that rode the bus. A blond haired girl was sitting by herself with headphones reading some sort of science fiction novel. She was wearing a bright-blue-collar T-shirt and a kaki skirt while swaying her pale, petite, round faced to her music.  Her silver angel earrings followed behind ever move. 
         I kept thinking to myself, come on Riley sit with her while I was walking down the isle.  I finally moved to her seat and she smiled at me.  My face blushed then turned dismal when she quickly fixed her eyes back into her novel.  Disappointed, I sat down a seat behind her, still giving her a stare of awe.
         I really didn’t have any courage to do anything. Her hair fell down shoulder length and the sun radiated her face like a spot light. She wasn’t wearing makeup, but I don’t think any one would notice through her rosy cheek beauty.
         I had to say something just to get her to notice me, so I finally stood up and tapped her on the shoulder.  I never had butterflies in my stomach before and I was very nervous. 
         She turned ever so slightly, removed one side of her headphone away from her ear and said,
         “Yes?”  I cleared my throat holding on to the collar of my T-shirt,
         “I… was just wondering what book you were reading?”
She glanced down as her blond shimmering hair cascaded.  She noticed her hair was in her face and pushed the strands behind her ear. Then after glancing at the cover of the novel, she turned and smiled,
         “Oh it’s called the Star Group.” She looked straight into my eyes and my heart skipped.
         “Isn’t that book written by Christopher Pike?” I asked her still nervous all over. Why should I be nervous? She’s is just a girl.  She looked down and gave me a look of surprise asking,
         “Yeah… you’ve read his work?” Her voice continued to sound sweet and very elegant. 
         “Well…no, “I said, “But… I have been writing a story and I’ve been told to read his novels.” She shrugged and said disappointed,
         “Well, its okay…I guess…But everyone dies like a tragedy and the ending very strange.”
         “Well I think different is a good thing…” I said sitting a crossed from her, “Especially if the reader think he knows what he is reading and then finds a totally different story… forcing them to read it again.” She smiled at me and I smiled back,
         “True...” she told me.  The bus came to an abrupt halt and she got up, held out a hand toward me and said,
         “Well this is my stop… it was a pleasure to meet you….”  She stopped suddenly and I filled in,
         “Riley,” She paused confused, and then smiled bringing out her right hand.  It took me a while to figure out what she wanted exactly, but then I shook her hand.  Talk about an awkward moment. 
         “Riley, well see you tomorrow.” She responded in a small grin and pushed herself up of out of the seat.
         “Yeah.” I said watching her picked up her bags and her CD player.  She then turned, whipping her blonde hair around and walked off the bus to her high school.
         Just as she went off the bus I remember something that disheartened me.  She was mine enemy from Gatestock and I never found out her name.