Post by ♥Nuka♥ on Nov 14, 2010 11:30:52 GMT -5
I got bored and started writing the story of Nuka's past. Pleas Comment. Thanks!
Everything happened so fast that it was hard to explain, and I didn't really understand what was going on. The only thing I could explain was the terror I felt. My hands shook uncontrollably and my blonde hair was turning red from my wounds, but my wounds were nothing compared to my parents.
I watched, powerlessly, as a ravenous animal tore them limb from limb. It dealt swift blows, with power that would've killed any normal human, but from my parents cries I knew they were suffering, not dead.
I woke with a jolt. My breaths came shallow and rapidly and my hair framed my sweat-drenched face. "It was just a dream," I whispered, "just a dream." By now though, I'd learned I never had just dreams. I knew I wasn't normal. Things happened to me that I couldn't explain. For instance, most of my dreams ended up coming true later, at least in part. All I could do to calm myself though was whisper, "It's just a dream."
After a few minutes of getting my heart rate under control I laid back in my bed. My icy blue eyes were wide open, and my mind was racing. As hard as I tried, I wasn't going to fall back asleep. This often happened to me though, so I was used to it. After figuring out my dreams come true, I would lay awake at night, scared to fall asleep.
Finally, I decided it was pointless just laying there and terrifying myself with my own thoughts, so I got up. I slipped my feet into the slippers by my bed and pulled my hair up into a messy ponytail. Before heading downstairs, I picked up a book.
When I opened the door to my room I listened carefully, pausing to make sure no one was awake. Silence answered my perked ears and I headed down the carpeted stairs. I watched each footstep, avoiding the spots I knew would creak if I put weight on them. I also walked closer to the wall, knowing the old railing would rattle if I touched it in the wrong way. This was the house I had grown up in, the place I was familiar with. I knew every surprise it could throw at me and how to step around it. My parents weren't going to wake up from me. Little did I know, they would wake up.
I walked into the living room and sat on the end of our couch. I clicked on an ancient lamp that sat on the end table. Slipping my slippers off, I curled up and opened my book. It was a fantasy novel about shape shifters and I was finally getting to a good part. After only a couple of minutes, I was so involved in my book that I barely heard a knock on the door.
Glancing up, I saw that it was only 4 in the morning. Who would be here at this time? I didn't answer the door and then whoever it was rang the doorbell. I yawned and stared at the door. Who was it? When I looked back at my book the doorbell rang again. I groaned and finally decided to get up, and apparently so had my parents.
The door to the master bedroom opened and my dad stepped out. His salt and pepper hair was a mess as he looked at me with his blue-grey eyes. "What are you doing up?" he asked, coming down the stairs.
"Couldn't sleep," I admitted with a yawn.
"Nightmare?" he asked, going to the door.
I nodded, "Yeah." When I was younger and had these nightmares I would sleep in my parents bed, so my dad knew all about it. Sometimes, he used to shake me awake because I was screaming, and trapped in the dream.
I stood up when my dad opened the door. I glanced around him to see a tall man. His stringy, dark brown hair fell into his intimidating, tanned face. He had dark eyes that were studying my dad.
"Dawson," my father said. He took a tone I'd never heard him use before. It was monotone, close to a growl and just plain menacing. "What are you doing here?"
"I heard you and your wife moved here and hid your daughter from me," the man, Dawson, replied. His voice was deep and raspy in a terrifying way. He glanced around my father and that dark gaze landed on me.
I struggled not to flinch. It was as if I could feel his gaze.
"She looks like her mother," Dawson commented. It was something an old family friend would say, but the way he said it scared me.
"Honey," my dad said to me in a deadly calm voice, "go get your mother and, you two get to the car. If she's confused saw Dawson is here."
I nodded nervously and ran upstairs to where my mother was asleep. "Mom," I whispered. "Mom get up."
Chapter 1
Everything happened so fast that it was hard to explain, and I didn't really understand what was going on. The only thing I could explain was the terror I felt. My hands shook uncontrollably and my blonde hair was turning red from my wounds, but my wounds were nothing compared to my parents.
I watched, powerlessly, as a ravenous animal tore them limb from limb. It dealt swift blows, with power that would've killed any normal human, but from my parents cries I knew they were suffering, not dead.
I woke with a jolt. My breaths came shallow and rapidly and my hair framed my sweat-drenched face. "It was just a dream," I whispered, "just a dream." By now though, I'd learned I never had just dreams. I knew I wasn't normal. Things happened to me that I couldn't explain. For instance, most of my dreams ended up coming true later, at least in part. All I could do to calm myself though was whisper, "It's just a dream."
After a few minutes of getting my heart rate under control I laid back in my bed. My icy blue eyes were wide open, and my mind was racing. As hard as I tried, I wasn't going to fall back asleep. This often happened to me though, so I was used to it. After figuring out my dreams come true, I would lay awake at night, scared to fall asleep.
Finally, I decided it was pointless just laying there and terrifying myself with my own thoughts, so I got up. I slipped my feet into the slippers by my bed and pulled my hair up into a messy ponytail. Before heading downstairs, I picked up a book.
When I opened the door to my room I listened carefully, pausing to make sure no one was awake. Silence answered my perked ears and I headed down the carpeted stairs. I watched each footstep, avoiding the spots I knew would creak if I put weight on them. I also walked closer to the wall, knowing the old railing would rattle if I touched it in the wrong way. This was the house I had grown up in, the place I was familiar with. I knew every surprise it could throw at me and how to step around it. My parents weren't going to wake up from me. Little did I know, they would wake up.
I walked into the living room and sat on the end of our couch. I clicked on an ancient lamp that sat on the end table. Slipping my slippers off, I curled up and opened my book. It was a fantasy novel about shape shifters and I was finally getting to a good part. After only a couple of minutes, I was so involved in my book that I barely heard a knock on the door.
Glancing up, I saw that it was only 4 in the morning. Who would be here at this time? I didn't answer the door and then whoever it was rang the doorbell. I yawned and stared at the door. Who was it? When I looked back at my book the doorbell rang again. I groaned and finally decided to get up, and apparently so had my parents.
The door to the master bedroom opened and my dad stepped out. His salt and pepper hair was a mess as he looked at me with his blue-grey eyes. "What are you doing up?" he asked, coming down the stairs.
"Couldn't sleep," I admitted with a yawn.
"Nightmare?" he asked, going to the door.
I nodded, "Yeah." When I was younger and had these nightmares I would sleep in my parents bed, so my dad knew all about it. Sometimes, he used to shake me awake because I was screaming, and trapped in the dream.
I stood up when my dad opened the door. I glanced around him to see a tall man. His stringy, dark brown hair fell into his intimidating, tanned face. He had dark eyes that were studying my dad.
"Dawson," my father said. He took a tone I'd never heard him use before. It was monotone, close to a growl and just plain menacing. "What are you doing here?"
"I heard you and your wife moved here and hid your daughter from me," the man, Dawson, replied. His voice was deep and raspy in a terrifying way. He glanced around my father and that dark gaze landed on me.
I struggled not to flinch. It was as if I could feel his gaze.
"She looks like her mother," Dawson commented. It was something an old family friend would say, but the way he said it scared me.
"Honey," my dad said to me in a deadly calm voice, "go get your mother and, you two get to the car. If she's confused saw Dawson is here."
I nodded nervously and ran upstairs to where my mother was asleep. "Mom," I whispered. "Mom get up."
