Dream Writing . . . I really need to write more

I'll always remember him. His dark eyes. His rough, strong hands. It's frightening how a single encounter, a small moment in time can change you forever. In fact, I have never been more afraid in my life.

I was fifteen. All that I ever cared about was driving and who was going to be my friend. Of course it might help if you know that I had just moved to a new town, a small town where I was not only new to my school, but also new to my family. My father had just married this woman he met on-line and moved me with him after the whole two months of their relationship. It still amazes me how rash people can be.

Cort wasn't really a bad place. There was a mall half an hour away and roller rink downtown, but the theater only had one screen and everyone knew absolutely everything about everyone else. Including new additions to the population. When my father and I moved in, The moment I was alone with my new siblings they began asking me all kinds of questions. Did I miss the city? Why did I have a tattoo? Where did I go last summer? Was I going to leave next summer too? What is an Owlctopus? How did I like Cort? I have to admit that at that moment I decided that children are far too much of a hassle and marked that off my list of things to do.

Things weren't that different at school either. Seems like every teacher wanted to "welcome" me to Cort and every student wanted to know about last summer. I told them all something different. I don't like life to be too boring. Not that that was hard to do in Cort. Everyday it was so-and-so's cows escaped, the grocer was have a special on some pig part, or some kid got arrested for trespassing on Feorh Swamp. That's why I did it. Because like every other teen that has ever lived, I wanted to belong somewhere. To fit in or stand out. Or both.

So a beer into my fifth bonfire I took up the challenge and marched into the squishy, wet wilderness. Twenty minutes into the journey and my complete lack of a buzz reminded me that I all I really knew about swamps was that there are probably alligators and definitely snakes. Figuring that the sooner I got caught the sooner I'd get out I decided to keep going and make my reward worth the risk. There was a full moon and a beaten path. Sheer bravado took over as I walked and as per usual I jumped into my fancy feet first. I began imagining ravenous beasts lurking at the end of the darkness and yet stopping just short for fear of my strong and icy stare. I began to swagger and wave the long empty bottle about. I even found the audacity to kick a large rock off into the shadows and not die when a few birds shot into the air.

I shook off the chill that had frozen me and place. Tilting my head up I glared at the unseen evils, made an extra fancy turn about, and fell into the claws of a very real monster. There he stood. The moon reflected in his eyes and off his hair. The blood dripped from the small animal in his hands and from the smears around his mouth.

And that's when I fainted.