No Such Place
The story thus far: The protagonist Gemma is a 16 year old who was kicked out of her world's Church for failing to make a ceremonial orb glow, despite thinking she would join the elite like the rest of her family. Gemma was declared a "no-soul" because the Church says people with non-glowing orbs literally have no souls. Gemma was also kicked out of her home and sent to live in a group home for no-souls. She recently attacked her sister, who was visiting her home on a charitable outing, for being fake and self-serving. She also just got invited to an anti-Church party by an ex-friend of her sister and had a dimension-hopping misadventure.
This section takes place sometime after the previous sections. It is another time-skip that asked to be written.
This scene is EXTREMELY spoilerrific, so be warned.
Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14 (flashback - might not be canon), Part 15 (time-skip), Part 16 (time-skip), Part 17 (time-skip), Part 18 (time-skip), Part 19 (time-skip), Part 20 (time-skip), Part 21 (time-skip), Part 22 (time-skip)
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Dean Marins still hadn't found a school that would take me, and it was looking like I would have to repeat the year. The possibility loomed that I would have to drop out of school entirely and never graduate. Such a fate was not uncommon among no-souls. My parents, distant as they had been, wouldn't want that for me, but with my reputation for “belligerent behavior,” finding me an education was proving exceedingly difficult.
Brandon wasn't having much luck with his education, either, though he hadn't gotten himself expelled. Yet. The strange rumors never stopped following him, though, the stories saying he was terrible enough to anger the gods over and over again. Only a miracle of sorts kept anybody from realizing he was the angry god. If only he could learn how to control himself better and not cause random explosions and such. He shouldn't be out in the world, I knew. That was a terrible thing to say, but he needed to be somewhere safe, where he wouldn't hurt anybody else and where he could get better. Too bad none such place really existed. All such facilities, like pretty much everything else, were in the hands of the Church.
I sat in the park near my group home, along with, Wren, Brandon and, of all people, Jeremiah and Ellie. Kelsey was supposed to have come, but she was sick. Samantha was there, too, painting the local scenery. I had discovered she did all the landscape paintings in Diana's house. When I asked her why she wanted to pain this shabby park, she smiled and said, “I can make anything beautiful.”
Looking around at the patchy grass and benches with chipped paint, I had my doubts. We were all gathered on various blankets, having a picnic in this nearly-abandoned, definitely-not-beautiful spot. A chilly breeze blew, and I wondered why exactly we were all here.
Jeremiah stared at Ellie. “Lovely day for a picnic, isn't it?”
Shockingly, she returned his creepy stare with a smile. “It sure is, isn't it? But, uh, what's your name? You have one, right?”
Why were they here, again? Jeremiah chuckled. “Yeah, of course. I'm Jeremiah. And you?”
“Ellie.”
He straightened his posture, like he wanted to impress her. “So, you'll never believe what I heard. Dannering Regional High School is haunted.” He scanned me, and I bristled under his gaze. “And that's why Gemma was kicked out.”
I burst into laughter, outraged at his casual mention of my expulsion yet overcome with mirth. Haunted? I knew gossip wasn't a reliable information source, but that was ridiculous. I chanced a look at Wren and Brandon, who were leaning against each other.
Wren rolled her eyes. “Ghosts aren't real.”
Jeremiah shrugged. “Yeah, but rumors are rumors, you know? Fiction and sometimes a little bit of truth. Ghosts aren't any more or less real that the idea that some kid pissed off the gods multiple times.”
I felt Brandon tense without having to look at him again. Quickly, I said, “Maybe we should talk about something else.”
Jeremiah ignored that and explained, “You've got the whole package with the Dannering Situation, as I've heard it called. Exploding chalkboards, exploding lights, exploding lockers.”
Lockers? I hadn't heard about that one.
He went on, “Not to mention a student sleeping with her teacher. They tried to hush it up, but that got out, too. If anyone were going to piss off a god, you would think it would be the teacher.”
Brandon muttered, “You would think so, wouldn't you? But that's not what the kids at school say.”
Jeremiah spread out his arms. “Kids at schools say lots of things. Most of it is crap. Interesting crap, though.”
Brandon grumbled under his breath, “I wouldn't say it's interesting.”
Wren replied, “Me neither.”
Jeremiah said, “Aww, really? How can you two lovebirds say it's not interesting? Like the Church and its fake gods, kids love themselves some funny stories..”
I feared Brandon would say something, but it was Wren who spoke. “The gods aren't fake.”
He raised an eyebrow. “You're a believer now, Miss Blasphemy Is Badass?”
Wren crossed her arms. “Possibly. It's none of your business, though.”
Jeremiah looked at her questioningly. “You're the one who brought it up.”
She retorted, “You're the one who's acting like rumors are a fun game when they really, really suck for people.”
I watched Samantha painting. She seemed oblivious to the tension among us. I half-wanted to call for help, but what could she even do?
Jeremiah asked, “You the subject of any rumors? That why you're so upset? You're not the kid who allegedly pissed off the gods a bunch, are you? I thought it was a guy. Because, yeah, okay, now that I think about it, that kid is probably getting a lot of crap. Deserved, probably, if you believe some of those stories about what he's done. I don't, but there are people saying some funky shit.”
Brandon spoke slowly. “And what are they saying?”
He answered, “That the kid actually went and killed somebody.”
Brandon started shaking. Wren held his arm, looking as worried as I felt. Even Ellie noticed how tense he was, or at least she sensed something. I could see worry on her face as well. The air itself felt funny and wrong. I thought it was just the tension after Jeremiah offered up his horrible rumor, but no, the air was wrong; Brandon was doing something to it. I could taste the wrongness at the back of my throat.
Jeremiah noticed, too. “You're the kid, aren't you?”
His voice was wrong as well, too deep and echoing. “Yes, I'm the kid. And I never killed anybody, nor would I ever do such a thing.”
“Hey,” Jeremiah said, “it's just a rumor.”
Brandon continued, in that same wrong voice, “And rumors made life miserable for me.”
Finally, Samantha took a break from her painting. Even she had noticed something was wrong. She walked over to us and asked, “Everything alright?”
“No.” Brandon's answer hung in the distorted air.
Wren sensed danger. She backed away from him. Streaks of purple lightning crackled to life around Brandon like they did when he had made the portal. This lightning seemed different this time, somehow sharper and more out-of-control. I gasped and shouted, “Brandon, stop it!”
His face was blank, but his eyes lit up with wild power.
I flattened myself against the ground and shouted again, “Brandon!”
He couldn't hear me. A horrible sound ripped through the air, inhuman and indescribable. It was like world itself had lost its mind. Searing heat and blinding light struck me. I screamed as pain flared through my entire body. I thought I would die. Everything went black.
I woke a few seconds latter, to confusion and horror. At first, right when I came to, nothing seemed out of the ordinary because my mind couldn't process it. Wren, Ellie, Samantha and Jeremiah lied on the ground, bodies bent and distorted. Otherwise, they were completely unmarked, and the grass seemed the same brownish green of before. Why is everyone like that? I wondered stupidly to myself. Ellie was nearest. From my still-low angle, I noticed her eyes. They were wide open and...utterly lifeless.
I go up slowly, my stomach starting to knot. I spotted Brandon, who sat there with a dazed look. I crawled towards Ellie. If she had a pulse, everything would be alright and this scene would not be the nightmare I knew it was.
She didn't have a pulse. Her eyes remained firmly lifeless, their blue already seeming to drain of some of its color. Still, I refused to believe it. I crawled towards Jeremiah. Maybe if he were alive, somehow Ellie would be, too. Jeremiah had no pulse, either. I checked Samantha; she was the same. So was Wren. All of them bent and broken and unquestionably dead.
Reluctantly, I approached Brandon. One thought occurred to me: that we had to get out of there now. While I feared for my life, I knew somehow that if Brandon were caught by the police, bad things would happen. It would be no justice to have him end up in the hands of the authorities. Before I could shake him, he snapped out of it and looked around. His eyes scanned the scene, comprehension dawning.
He whispered, “No, no, no...”
I hissed, “We have to get out of here. What if somebody saw something?”
Brandon's eyes locked onto Wren's body and the horror on his face grew worse. Tears streamed from his eyes, and he broke into heaving sobs. He grabbed Wren, cradling her to him like he could make her wake up if he just held her and cried hard enough.
He sobbed, “What have I done? What have I done to you, Wren? No, no. Wake up, please wake up. Please wake up. I love you, please wake up.”
I felt terrible, but we didn't have time for this. “Brandon, we have to go!”
Brandon turned to me, still holding Wren. His eyes were hard behind the tears. He choked on his words. “I'm not going anywhere.”
I hissed angrily, “Do you want to get caught?”
He nodded. “I do.”
I nearly screamed, “And what good is that going to do?”
“It would be only right.”
I wanted to shake him. “How would that be right, Brandon? How would it do any good to give yourself to people who want to do...I don't even know what? When the Church finds out you're a god, and they will, it won't be pretty. They're evil.”
His voice was surprisingly level. “Whatever they want to do to me, I deserve it.”
Convincing him seemed impossible, but I needed to find a way. Before I could, though, police sirens blared in the distance. I tried once more. “We need to leave now!”
Brandon stayed where he was, eyes blazing with misplaced resolve. “I'm not leaving.”
There was no hope for me to save him. I grabbed my purse and ran away as fast as I could. My feet pounded along with my heart. I had to get out of there, get help. I had to save Brandon somehow, if he wouldn't save himself. Getting caught myself was out of the question, though my stomach churned to leave him there. I ran and ran and ran, trying to stuff the panic away. It wouldn't do any good to lose my head, but how in the gods-damned darkness was I going to fix this mess?
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written for 500themes prompt #308 - "Final Breath"
This section takes place sometime after the previous sections. It is another time-skip that asked to be written.
This scene is EXTREMELY spoilerrific, so be warned.
Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14 (flashback - might not be canon), Part 15 (time-skip), Part 16 (time-skip), Part 17 (time-skip), Part 18 (time-skip), Part 19 (time-skip), Part 20 (time-skip), Part 21 (time-skip), Part 22 (time-skip)
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Dean Marins still hadn't found a school that would take me, and it was looking like I would have to repeat the year. The possibility loomed that I would have to drop out of school entirely and never graduate. Such a fate was not uncommon among no-souls. My parents, distant as they had been, wouldn't want that for me, but with my reputation for “belligerent behavior,” finding me an education was proving exceedingly difficult.
Brandon wasn't having much luck with his education, either, though he hadn't gotten himself expelled. Yet. The strange rumors never stopped following him, though, the stories saying he was terrible enough to anger the gods over and over again. Only a miracle of sorts kept anybody from realizing he was the angry god. If only he could learn how to control himself better and not cause random explosions and such. He shouldn't be out in the world, I knew. That was a terrible thing to say, but he needed to be somewhere safe, where he wouldn't hurt anybody else and where he could get better. Too bad none such place really existed. All such facilities, like pretty much everything else, were in the hands of the Church.
I sat in the park near my group home, along with, Wren, Brandon and, of all people, Jeremiah and Ellie. Kelsey was supposed to have come, but she was sick. Samantha was there, too, painting the local scenery. I had discovered she did all the landscape paintings in Diana's house. When I asked her why she wanted to pain this shabby park, she smiled and said, “I can make anything beautiful.”
Looking around at the patchy grass and benches with chipped paint, I had my doubts. We were all gathered on various blankets, having a picnic in this nearly-abandoned, definitely-not-beautiful spot. A chilly breeze blew, and I wondered why exactly we were all here.
Jeremiah stared at Ellie. “Lovely day for a picnic, isn't it?”
Shockingly, she returned his creepy stare with a smile. “It sure is, isn't it? But, uh, what's your name? You have one, right?”
Why were they here, again? Jeremiah chuckled. “Yeah, of course. I'm Jeremiah. And you?”
“Ellie.”
He straightened his posture, like he wanted to impress her. “So, you'll never believe what I heard. Dannering Regional High School is haunted.” He scanned me, and I bristled under his gaze. “And that's why Gemma was kicked out.”
I burst into laughter, outraged at his casual mention of my expulsion yet overcome with mirth. Haunted? I knew gossip wasn't a reliable information source, but that was ridiculous. I chanced a look at Wren and Brandon, who were leaning against each other.
Wren rolled her eyes. “Ghosts aren't real.”
Jeremiah shrugged. “Yeah, but rumors are rumors, you know? Fiction and sometimes a little bit of truth. Ghosts aren't any more or less real that the idea that some kid pissed off the gods multiple times.”
I felt Brandon tense without having to look at him again. Quickly, I said, “Maybe we should talk about something else.”
Jeremiah ignored that and explained, “You've got the whole package with the Dannering Situation, as I've heard it called. Exploding chalkboards, exploding lights, exploding lockers.”
Lockers? I hadn't heard about that one.
He went on, “Not to mention a student sleeping with her teacher. They tried to hush it up, but that got out, too. If anyone were going to piss off a god, you would think it would be the teacher.”
Brandon muttered, “You would think so, wouldn't you? But that's not what the kids at school say.”
Jeremiah spread out his arms. “Kids at schools say lots of things. Most of it is crap. Interesting crap, though.”
Brandon grumbled under his breath, “I wouldn't say it's interesting.”
Wren replied, “Me neither.”
Jeremiah said, “Aww, really? How can you two lovebirds say it's not interesting? Like the Church and its fake gods, kids love themselves some funny stories..”
I feared Brandon would say something, but it was Wren who spoke. “The gods aren't fake.”
He raised an eyebrow. “You're a believer now, Miss Blasphemy Is Badass?”
Wren crossed her arms. “Possibly. It's none of your business, though.”
Jeremiah looked at her questioningly. “You're the one who brought it up.”
She retorted, “You're the one who's acting like rumors are a fun game when they really, really suck for people.”
I watched Samantha painting. She seemed oblivious to the tension among us. I half-wanted to call for help, but what could she even do?
Jeremiah asked, “You the subject of any rumors? That why you're so upset? You're not the kid who allegedly pissed off the gods a bunch, are you? I thought it was a guy. Because, yeah, okay, now that I think about it, that kid is probably getting a lot of crap. Deserved, probably, if you believe some of those stories about what he's done. I don't, but there are people saying some funky shit.”
Brandon spoke slowly. “And what are they saying?”
He answered, “That the kid actually went and killed somebody.”
Brandon started shaking. Wren held his arm, looking as worried as I felt. Even Ellie noticed how tense he was, or at least she sensed something. I could see worry on her face as well. The air itself felt funny and wrong. I thought it was just the tension after Jeremiah offered up his horrible rumor, but no, the air was wrong; Brandon was doing something to it. I could taste the wrongness at the back of my throat.
Jeremiah noticed, too. “You're the kid, aren't you?”
His voice was wrong as well, too deep and echoing. “Yes, I'm the kid. And I never killed anybody, nor would I ever do such a thing.”
“Hey,” Jeremiah said, “it's just a rumor.”
Brandon continued, in that same wrong voice, “And rumors made life miserable for me.”
Finally, Samantha took a break from her painting. Even she had noticed something was wrong. She walked over to us and asked, “Everything alright?”
“No.” Brandon's answer hung in the distorted air.
Wren sensed danger. She backed away from him. Streaks of purple lightning crackled to life around Brandon like they did when he had made the portal. This lightning seemed different this time, somehow sharper and more out-of-control. I gasped and shouted, “Brandon, stop it!”
His face was blank, but his eyes lit up with wild power.
I flattened myself against the ground and shouted again, “Brandon!”
He couldn't hear me. A horrible sound ripped through the air, inhuman and indescribable. It was like world itself had lost its mind. Searing heat and blinding light struck me. I screamed as pain flared through my entire body. I thought I would die. Everything went black.
I woke a few seconds latter, to confusion and horror. At first, right when I came to, nothing seemed out of the ordinary because my mind couldn't process it. Wren, Ellie, Samantha and Jeremiah lied on the ground, bodies bent and distorted. Otherwise, they were completely unmarked, and the grass seemed the same brownish green of before. Why is everyone like that? I wondered stupidly to myself. Ellie was nearest. From my still-low angle, I noticed her eyes. They were wide open and...utterly lifeless.
I go up slowly, my stomach starting to knot. I spotted Brandon, who sat there with a dazed look. I crawled towards Ellie. If she had a pulse, everything would be alright and this scene would not be the nightmare I knew it was.
She didn't have a pulse. Her eyes remained firmly lifeless, their blue already seeming to drain of some of its color. Still, I refused to believe it. I crawled towards Jeremiah. Maybe if he were alive, somehow Ellie would be, too. Jeremiah had no pulse, either. I checked Samantha; she was the same. So was Wren. All of them bent and broken and unquestionably dead.
Reluctantly, I approached Brandon. One thought occurred to me: that we had to get out of there now. While I feared for my life, I knew somehow that if Brandon were caught by the police, bad things would happen. It would be no justice to have him end up in the hands of the authorities. Before I could shake him, he snapped out of it and looked around. His eyes scanned the scene, comprehension dawning.
He whispered, “No, no, no...”
I hissed, “We have to get out of here. What if somebody saw something?”
Brandon's eyes locked onto Wren's body and the horror on his face grew worse. Tears streamed from his eyes, and he broke into heaving sobs. He grabbed Wren, cradling her to him like he could make her wake up if he just held her and cried hard enough.
He sobbed, “What have I done? What have I done to you, Wren? No, no. Wake up, please wake up. Please wake up. I love you, please wake up.”
I felt terrible, but we didn't have time for this. “Brandon, we have to go!”
Brandon turned to me, still holding Wren. His eyes were hard behind the tears. He choked on his words. “I'm not going anywhere.”
I hissed angrily, “Do you want to get caught?”
He nodded. “I do.”
I nearly screamed, “And what good is that going to do?”
“It would be only right.”
I wanted to shake him. “How would that be right, Brandon? How would it do any good to give yourself to people who want to do...I don't even know what? When the Church finds out you're a god, and they will, it won't be pretty. They're evil.”
His voice was surprisingly level. “Whatever they want to do to me, I deserve it.”
Convincing him seemed impossible, but I needed to find a way. Before I could, though, police sirens blared in the distance. I tried once more. “We need to leave now!”
Brandon stayed where he was, eyes blazing with misplaced resolve. “I'm not leaving.”
There was no hope for me to save him. I grabbed my purse and ran away as fast as I could. My feet pounded along with my heart. I had to get out of there, get help. I had to save Brandon somehow, if he wouldn't save himself. Getting caught myself was out of the question, though my stomach churned to leave him there. I ran and ran and ran, trying to stuff the panic away. It wouldn't do any good to lose my head, but how in the gods-damned darkness was I going to fix this mess?
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written for 500themes prompt #308 - "Final Breath"