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KimSmallwood

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I laid in bed staring at the ceiling, thinking. I'd had the dream again. It worried me. Those tarrifying eyes staing at me with murderous excitment. Almost every night I've had this dream. Those same eyes, that same ally, that horrible chill down my spine; it all felt so real. I didn't know what to think of it.

After about the seventh time my mom pounded on my door yelling for me to get up, I decided to listen to her and get ready for school. I quickly slipped on a pair of jeans and my green 'Got Milk?' t-shirt, running a comb through the tangled layers of my sholder length honey brown hair before swinging my door open and making my way down the hall to the kitchen. My mom was sitting at the table sipping her coffee when I walked in.

"You're going to be late," she warned sternly. 
"I know, I know," I mummbled. "I'm on my way out." I quickly grabbed my grey messanger bag.
"Want me to give you a ride?" my mom asked. "You'll be even later if you walk." She took another sip from her steaming mug.
I grinned. "I'm going to be late either way."
She grinned back. "Alright. But don't come crying to me when you get a detention for missing you whole first hour."
I laughed quietly. "Okay. Love you, bye."
"Love you, too. Have a good day," My mom shouted after me as I closed the front door, my bag hitch on my sholder.

I paused on the porch to admire the weather. It was a nice day. There was a thick blanket of clouds over head and I, the temperture being only about 60 digrees, got goosebumps when the wind blew lightly. I was one of those people who favored less sunlight and more rainy days. Today was my ideal day. All the day needed was a little rain and I would be in good spirits for the rest of the day.

I hopped lightly off the porch and began walking in the direction of my school, Oak View High. I lived in the middle of suburbia, which basically ment I was in walking distance to an Elementary school, and Junior High and, of course, my own high school.

As I walked down the road, the school already in view at the end of the block, I began to think about my dream. I'd been having it almost every night these last couple months and I still didn't understand it. The man, with the glowing eyes, did not look fimiliar from what I've seen of him. He had short blond hair that was neatly combed back. He always wore blue jeans and a black t-shirt. He looked fairly young, early twenties maybe. But the thing I always remembered vividly was how absolutely striking all his features were. He was incredibly gorgeous; I could never forget that fact. His image was imprinted in my brain.

But also, he wanted to kill me. That isn't easily forgotten, either.

I was now walking in the front doors of the school. I rushed down the halls now, realizing how late I really was. There was only a few people in the hallways, so I had to hurry. I quickly stowed my bag in my locker and grabbed what I needed for English.

When I entered the room, I noticed everyone was already seated and, now, were all staring at me. I flushed red, embarrassed.

"So nice of you to join us, Ms. Haviland," Mr. Johnson, the English teacher, said to me as I took my seat. "Sorry," I mummbled quietly, staring down at my desk.

Mr. Johnson continued with his lesson and I just stared out the window, hoping the rain would come soon. As the teacher was handing out this month's book list, all of which I have already read, I heard someone open and close the door. The whole class snapped there head up in unison, looking toward the front of the room. I stifled a gasp.

The boy standing at the door was the most beautiful creature I'd ever seen. His auburn hair was piled messily on top of his head so perfectly. His thin grey sweater left little to the imagination. I could see all the contures of his perfectly muscular chest very clearly. His face was perfectly symmetrical; sharp and soft angles in all the right places. And his eyes. His eyes were beautiful. I'd never seen violet eyes before now. His were the oddest shade, too. But absolutely beautiful.

But, all of this, all of his perfection, none of these things were the reason for my shock. The reason I was frozen in my seat, hands clenched tight to the edges of the metal chair, was that his unbelievable beauty was the same form of beauty that I saw every night when I closed my eyes. The same inhuman beauty as the man in my horrifying nightmares.

***[i really hope you like it so far. be truthful, i like feedback. tell me what you think. rate+comment]***