Starchild
Chapter 1
Vincent exited Schumacher Lecture Hall with the sinking feeling that his four-year engineering degree had just become a five year-engineering degree and something deep within him suspected the day was going to get even worse. His phone screen blinked to life and with bleak foresight, he knew to expect a text.
Yup.
His lockscreen was a smiling girl with dark, bouncy curls and warm eyes, obscured by the notification. He skimmed over the seemingly endless wall of words; reading it would only confirm the obvious.
That’s finished too, I guess.
He slipped the phone back into his pocket and joined the flood of people heading home to study for their next final or celebrate being finished, none carrying the same pessimism that sagged his shoulders.
His 98’ Camry sat on the farthest edge of the parking lot; a short walk away in the grand scheme but apparently two minutes was not too short a time to cram in some misery.
There, across the green, there was no mistaking her.
Her curls bounced as she walked across the green, laughed across the green, existed radiantly across the green. She was laughing with friends on either side at something he couldn’t hear. If her text was a dagger to the heart, the joy in her eyes at that moment was a full rotation, joy that disappeared when she saw him.
He was close enough to shout something to her, cuss her out or beg to stay together. Instead, he said nothing, thumbing the star necklace around his neck while she turned away and kept on walking until she vanished behind the humanities building.
It was only then his mind registered the ticket on the windshield.
He was halfway into the driver’s seat before his mind registered the ticket on the windshield.
3:05 PM
He’d bought 3 hours of time at 12:02 PM
He crammed the ticket into the glovebox and let his head sink back into the headrest before squeezing his eyes shut and taking deep breaths.
Rain droplets pattered against his windshield.
Fine. He thought. Let it rain. Let it pour. He wanted it to rain harder, to rain faster, let the wind rip the textbook out of his hands, give him the worst storm imaginable. What was the point of a little rain when hurricanes existed? Why bother with simple inconveniences existed when tragedies existed? What was the point.
He hoped that this day would get worse, that his car would crap out on him that his glasses would break. Let this day be as bad as it possibly could be.
Then tomorrow would simply have to be better.
He drove home in a light drizzle, hardly noticeable.
…
“I’m such a loser.” Vincent mumbled. Mountain Creek sloshed around the can until he brought it to his lips and took a long sip. He winced at the bitterness before placing it beside a cluster of empties. Mountain Creek never got any easier to drink, but it was borderline inflation proof.
“Nah, dude, you’re fine. I think she’s just a bitch.” Jackson yawned. “Now, pick already and if it’s a grappler, I’m punching you in the dick.”
Vincent let out a long sigh. Drunkenness muted the smell of pot and cheap beer, the bright blue light from Granblue prompting him to pick a character, and even the feeling of plastic buttons under his fingers. Still, he made sure to choose a grappler.
Stolen novel; please report.
God, he missed Sasha.
“Prick.” Jackson said, as the match began.
“She’s not a bitch.” Vincent mumbled, clutching at the star shaped necklace around his neck. Sasha had given it to him for their one-month anniversary and sure, it had been embarrassing at first but it had grown on him.
“Look dude, nobody wanted you too together more than me. I was your ride and die. I would have been your best man but fuck, dumping you over text is some real ice queen shit and I need you to realize that.” Wayne dropped his controller on the couch. “Vinny, say it with me. She’s a bitch.”
“She…”
“She’s a bitch!”
“She’s…a…”
“She’s a bitch!” Wayne shouted.
“She’s a…bitch.” Vince repeated.
Wayne clapped him on the shoulder and picked up his controller, “That’s the spirit, my brother, now the healing can begin.”
“She’s not a bitch.” Vince mumbled, feeling his cheeks warm up. “She’s perfect.”
Wayne scooped him up. “Let it out, man, let out your tears.”
“I’m not crying!”
“Shh…shut the fuck up. Just let it out.” Wayne wrapped his beefy arms around Vincent for what felt like hours, long enough for them to lose the game at least. Slurs blared through the television as their teammates all came to the same conclusion about who’d lost them the match. “Shut the fuck up!” Wayne howled at the television, “No one loves you! Not you, Vinny, these grease stains.”
Wayne leaned back on the couch. “You know, an uncle of mine died before I was born. Went in for a surgery and they doped him up on too much painkillers.”
“They overdosed him?”
“No, came out the surgery fine. He was just addicted to painkillers. Did anything, stole from anyone to get his fix. Lost his job over it too. He and his wife lost their house, she split, took the kids to grandma’s and he tried to end it.” Wayne pointed a finger pistol to his temple and clicked the imaginary trigger. “Must have missed though, cause he lived. Another twenty years stuck in a hospital bed, couldn’t even wipe his own ass. Had a stroke or something eventually and nobody went to his funeral. Apparently they were gonna name me after him before he started tweaking.”
“You must feel awful.”
“It’s got nothing to do with me.” Wayne shrugged, “Never knew him.”
“Then why did you even tell me that.”
“Things could be worse, Vinny. Just saying. I don’t even remember his name. You could be dying in a hospital bed and die too unloved to even get a first name.” Wayne got up, “Gonna piss.”
He walked out the back.
Vincent fiddled with the bottle in his hand. Why did people drink beer? All it did was make you piss every five minutes and taste like garbage. Girly drinks were where it was at. They got you drunk fast and tasted like juice boxes.
He reached up to squeeze his necklace.
It wasn’t there.
“Am I really not worth more than a text”
A moment of panic so potent is cut through his inebriation seized him. He hadn’t lost it, had he? It was around his neck a minute ago…
Wayne.
Vincent bolted from the couch and stumbled through the rustic house. The bathroom was wide open and empty, but the backdoor slammed in the breeze.
“WAYNE” He shouted out into the country night. The tall grass waved in the breeze, “GIVE IT BACK, WAYNE!”
“I’m ditching this for your own good! You aren’t gonna forget her if you keep wearing this fucking thing!”
He spotted his friend standing in the tall grass, even from this far away the necklace was visible in the moonlight
There was no sign of his friend at all and that panic shifted to worry. Wayne was not subtle, if he was out here then where was he.
Suddenly he spotted movement in the tall grass. A whole swath of it suddenly flattened, like a wall had been dropped on it.
Vincent had a moment to contemplate the strangeness before the more grass flattened, in his direction and kept flattening.
Sober, he would of…who knows. Drunk, he simply watched uncomprehending until it was upon him.
In the dark of night something rose from the grass. Tall, far taller than a human would ever be. Wider. Flatter. Wriggling arms poking out of its side. In the dark of night, it almost looked like a centipede blown up to a thousand times its size.
It clacked and hissed at him.
He didn’t need to use the bathroom anymore.
Then, as strangeness reached its apex, one of the things legs reached out to scratch him, he threw his arms in front of his face.
He raised his hands in front of his face.
Suddenly his left
The feeling of being scratched never came, instead there was the feeling of cold metal wrapping around his wrist.
He had a minute to goggle around the metallic bracelet wrapped around his wrist before his hand vanished into nothingness.
Vanished.
Faster than his drunken eyes could process the tounge lashed out.
Vince
Sight and sensation, gone in an instant, leaving only the grass where his hand had once been,
His arm followed, then half his chest then his full chest. Finally, just before he could scream, his mouth followed and then he knew no more.
He shrieked to the bottom of his lungs, hot tears coming to his eyes