Evil Truths - The Genesis. A story

THE GENESIS

I.

"Verity... Verity..."; her own name rang in her ears and she did not know if it had come from the wind or perhaps her own mind. The words were not whole, only of half substance. She heeded never the less as the call reaching from behind the words climbed inside her pulling her toward it, though it's origin was still a mystery to her.

"VERITY!" the word this time was real, familiar by voice but still whispered. "Where on earth are you going?"Her mother's face drowned in shadow moved forward, and the shadows bled into the darkened theatre behind her to revealed a puzzled look.

Verity's trance was then suddenly broken by an onset of reality dropping quickly upon her. She looked around. Theatre goers around Her watched aggressively as she blocked their view of the stage.
"I - I don't know."
"Sit down you're blocking the stage." Verity's mother was obviously embarrassed. She was so old fashioned when it came to absolutely everything.  

And still Verity was standing.

"Sit down child!" at fourteen Verity was still a child to her mother and disobedience was never tolerated. The few times she had endeavoured to dis-obey her some how she had paid with out her mother's punishment, yet some how she already knew. Yet Verity was still standing.

"You are blocking peoples view." she warned yanking quickly on her arm bringing Verity's body straight to her seat.

"Sorry." Verity let a whisper timidly fall from her lips. Verity stared almost unblinkingly at the stage for the rest of the play yet at curtain close her mind retained nothing of the performance that had taken place there. Her mind still juggling her name twice verbalized but not.

II.

They say puberty is a hard time. No longer a girl, not yet a woman, but for Verity it became more complicated than most. Though at fourteen she had no idea of what lay ahead of her. She was blissfully unaware of the path that lay at the feet of her nor that it would be paved with more thorns than most.

Verity sat down at the desk next to her best friend. Marc, short for Marcello she had known since she was three years old. Their parent's met as friends eleven years prior. It surprised Verity that her mother had any friends. She loved her dearly but her mother wasn't the typical social type, yet she had many friends of all ages, though Marc's parent's, Katarina and Sergio were her closest. Verity's father, Terence however, died before her birth when her mother, Patricia was only four months full with her and from her mother's description Verity imagined that he was well liked. Verity on the other hand; had only one friend. And if it weren't for Marc Verity knew she would bare the brunt of many more jokes, practical and other wise.
"Did you do the homework?" Marc queried her.
"What homework?" Verity pretended to have forgotten and had until Marc had mentioned it.
"This homework." Marc placed the answers to the question sheet in front of her. She knew he was offering a chance to copy and was grateful as she scribbled his answers in her own handwriting.

Then from behind a voice startled her, "This is the third time this week Verity. I'm sorry I can't turn a blind eye anymore, see me after class."
An eruption of laughter came from Verity's peers as she mumbled, "Yes Miss Scott."

After class Verity packed her books into her bag and tried to mingle with-in the lake of students that seeped slowly out the classroom door hoping Miss Scott had forgotten their appointment, but she had not.
"Where are you going young lady?"
"Oh yeah."
Marc offered a quick expression of sympathy as the class continued to seeped though the doorway.
"Canteen." he mouthed slyly a meeting place.
"You are usually such a good student I'm rather concerned at your attitude towards your homework lately. Are you having some problems at home?"
"No."
"Are you sure? How is things at home, with your parents?
"Fine."
"Well if there is anything you need help with or even just someone to talk to I don't mind. I'm letting you off today only because you have such a good track record but I expect it won't be happening again or next time I won't be so lenient. Okay?"
"Okay."
"Off you go then."
"Miss Scott..." Before leaving Verity contemplated Miss Scott's offer of help. Staring into her round hazel eyes framed by her stylish shoulder length brown hair, Miss scott's eye brows lifted and her pretty, thin lips perched in expectation. Verity hesitated, was lack of sleep a real excuse and what if she asked why? Then Verity would have to tell her about the dreams. 'Crazy girl, crazy, crazy girl' she would say. "Nothing." Verity let Miss Scott's expectations fall unforfilled.

III.

Abruptly Verity was thrust from her sheets. Though covered in perspiration she was still cold, clammy; she shook briefly in a shiver. Her bed covers; mangled, pillows lying abused on the floor. Then suddenly, it dawned on her. "I am awake now. I was dreaming but now I am awake. I am in my bedroom. I am awake now and I am safe." Her tense body starts to relax as she sinks cautiously back to her mattress. Bringing the mess of sheets to her chin she searched for warmth and cover beneath them.

"His face is everywhere, in every shadow I see his form. (I am awake, I am awake, I am awake, just a dream.)" Foetal, to the side, she stares at the wall. "His face still stares at me from the evenness of the flat wall. I've heard of walls having ears before, but not eyes. Am I crazy? They say that anyone who questions their own sanity cannot be crazy, but then why does it feel like he is still watching me. (I am awake, I am awake, I am awake, just a dream.)"

Verity watched the luminous green digits of her clock untill dawn as sleep played a well stratagized game of hide and seek with her, finally claiming it's victory at 6:13 am when Verity rose from her bed to start an old day that thanks to her nightmares had matured prematurely.

IV.

"The new kid was kinda strange," Verity thought, "though I must admit kinda... no, very cute. There was no way he'd speak to me." But Verity didn't care she was content just to steal sneaky sideways glances, however, found herself blatantly staring a few times. Marc seemed to notice Veritys interest, and didn't gift his appproval even once. Maybe he was jealous, there was a couple of times Verity felt that maybe he cared for her a little more than just a friend, but seeings he never said anything she felt she had a right to look.

It was Thursday, English, fourth period, 12:50 pm that it happened. Staring unintentionally as she usually did, Korbin turned and looked at Verity, "This sucks don't it?" Verity's heart sung and danced with glee, but all the movement balled up and lodged in her throat blocking even the quietest of sighs from escaping her lips.

"Yeah whatever." Marc picked up the slack and replied on her behalf although he wasn't as enthused as Verity would have been. Jealousy? Korbin threw his attention back to his work. Marc's face then did something verity had never seen before, it twisted into such a hateful frown that his brow crinkled and his lip twitched. Not a Marc frown.

V.

Marc sat alone, sleep hid quietly just beyond the horizon and the last rays of the sun lit up the cream colored curtains as if they smoldered with the fires that of course still lay eight light minutes away and now seemed to have perched itself upon the intagible horizon. Marc watched lint float through the air above his desk only made visible through the afternoon that shone through his window. The sense that it was there rested lightly on the middle of his forehead and a sound rang through his mind that evaded his ears. A voice, the same voice, the voice that he could not hear but spoke never the less straight to his mind came seconds after the press of awareness that rested so familiarly on his brow. Hair stood at attention on his arms, on his legs, the back of his neck. The tell tale signs that he was not alone. The words played like a memory through his concious yet he knew they were no memory, a message written long before his birth, a peice of a puzzle that he had never seen yet insictively knew he must peice together before the turn of the hour glass filled with sand.
Homework sprawled itself accross his desk like the victim of a creative serial muderer, smudged with dirt and limbs twisted into dog ears and creases. Marc sifted through the piled carcass to find his diary lying in the gut of the mess. Opened the pages still clean and unwrinked behind the hard cover and flipped half way through the book to the first blank slate and penned in his neatest hand writing the date followed by the words that still echoed through his mind like a hopscotch game jumping over and over from word to word, and then continued with his entry. "Contact at 5:48 pm. Today I met a new kid at schoool named Korbin I don't know why but I feel like I already know him, but I know I haven't met him before. I think I would remember because he has a strange aura, not strange like I've never felt an aura like that before but strange as in familiar, like I knew him in a past life or something and we hated each other. I don't know yet but I think he could be the reason for the contact. Something about him feels wrong, very wrong and I am pretty sure it has something to do with Verity because my intuition made me think that I have to protect Verity from him but I don't know why or even if I can, she is already showing interest in him, and I knew it had something to do with her even before she was showing interest in him, yet I think her attraction to him was instantanious though she didn't show it at first, I just get that feeling." Marc closed the diary slowly like there was more to write but the words to express it were all spent.

VI.
Verity traced the letters of her own hand writing over the page. Pen digging the K deeper into the page, looping sweetly around the o, back and forward against the r, tearing the b into the next page, coloring the heart that dotted the i and etching the n into approximately five pages below. Her sandy blonde hair twinkled in the afternoon light as it framed her sight and her eyes hung wearily over her note book.