From The Other Side

Chapter Four

A/N I might do some POV switches, I kinda wanna do 1st person so yeah. This chap is in first person, Violet's perspective.

I couldn't sleep. What Sierra said scared me. She as a person scared me. The hole was still there. It's been a week now, that Sierra's been here. It was nearly midnight, I'd still tried to sleep, but to no avail. I was anxious about the state of our town. Our city. Anything relating to us. 

I took in a breath and sighed, cheers to a sleepless night and an A.P exam tomorrow. Screw history.

I rolled back over, clutching a blanket. It felt like someone was watching. 

I must've been delusional. Yet, despite my anxiety, I managed to catch a wink of sleep.

"Mornin'" 

I heard a voice chirp.

"W...Wh..Who.. and What...  are you?" I asked, groggily.

"Well, that would be for me to know and you to wonder, sweetheart." What I could assume to be a woman replied.

My eyes opened further, I could finally see. The room was black as night, with red accents. The floor was reminiscent of the victorian era. A throne sat at the very edge of the back wall, a dark, spiky chandelier hung from the ceiling. The upper half of the walls were a scarlet, blood-like color. The lower half was raven black. A layer of wooden white trim separated the two. The same trim formed boxes framing the room.

From what windows there were, I could tell it was night. Stained glass portraits acted as windows, like in a cathedral. There was only one that wasn't a colored work, which was located behind the throne.

"Tell me, how is that little town of yours doing?" 

Her lips crept into a smile, nearly baring fangs.

"In your words" I joked, putting on my brave face, "That's for me to know and you to wonder."

By her facial expressions, she wasn't pleased with me.

"I'll ask you again, how does your home feel?" She snapped at me, both figuratively and literally, her fingers clinking together.

My throat went dry, and I started coughing. Through all of my what felt like hacking up my insides, and choking simultaneously. I tasted iron.

I was bleeding. 

This was a dream. 

Why was I bleeding?

The sun in the window behind started to show in a gathering of pinks, reds, oranges, and purples.

"Well, darling,"

I stopped choking and no longer tasted the blood.

"It seems our time is up. I'll be seeing you."

And with that, she vanished.

"RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA"

My alarm clock woke me. That alarm was the one part of my seventh grade self I never grew out of, waking up to Andy Biersack screaming. It gave me nostalgia, although the coon-tail hair was rather regrettable.

The sun was still the same way as it had been in the dream.

I had to ask myself. Why was that so realistic? I've never been one to lucid dream, I've had sleep paralysis twice in my life, and have only had one night terror.

Astral traveling is out of the question.

I yawned. Six in the morning is never the time to think about things like these. That's for PreCalc when I'm supposed to be paying attention. 

I hopped out of bed and to my dresser. I pulled out a pastel pink hoodie, and some white ripped jeans. Today was another day, and whatever it was that happened last night, didn't matter.

I made a mental note to ask Mari if she and I had been to a party lately, or I accidentally drank some form of alcohol.  

The outdoors looked like a gang and a storm had blown through in one single night. Mailboxes dented, sticks on the ground, clouds rolling in. The neighbor's fence had been damaged, paint chipping and several pickets fell on the front lawn. I hopped into my truck, which had luckily not been damaged.

The local radio was on.

"Reports say severe storms are headed toward Midway county, Essex county, and Weber county around four today, following up on last night's surprise storm, which residents and meteorologists alike call a miracle. Back to you in the station, Jeremy"

After that, I turned off the radio. I didn't want to know exactly what happened. It felt like my fault, the hole, the storms, the dangers, all of it. 

I managed to squeeze my pickup into the minuscule parking spaces provided by the school, taking a swig of the coffee I bought earlier.

Sierra's car was parked close to where I had mine.

And once again, like every other day, I waltzed into the hallways, ready to be bored for another six hours.

The substitute count in our school must've been nuts because I feel like we've had six subs within a week.

Today's was in the first period. The strange guy was lanky, looked slightly incompetent, and was on the younger side, 35 tops.

He called himself Mr. Adams. 

Common names seem to be a friend of this grade. He gave me an eerie vibe, similar to how I felt before last night's dreams.

It was good that he was only there a day.

The class shortly filed on in, sliding backpacks under chairs, taking out pencils, and staring at the whiteboard. I gave them an estimated five minutes before everyone went nuts and shit hit the fan.

Rollcall started.

All six Jacobs, Mikes, Maddies, Emilies, were here.

But the class seemed emptier. Drier in humor, less populated. 

I counted to myself. We were missing six kids.

That couldn't be a coincidence, strange nightmare, lady asking about my life, substitute teacher, feeling like someone was watching me, and six kids absent. It was a storm not the flu.

I tried to keep my head to the paper, watching Mr. Adams as he handed out what was yesterdays' work (which for some reason he felt like grading??) 

He smirked my way.

This man was certainly an interesting character.

He walked over, placing papers on our three desks.

On mine there was a note.

"How's your town now?"

It read in blood red ink, signed with an initial.

-R.

Then Mr. Adams eyes turned black.