The day started like any other, coming out of unconsciousness and waking up in the dark, on an unbelievably comfortable bed. Michael groaned, pulling the pillow over his shaggy, dark hair, annoyed that it kept rubbing into his eyes. Michael didn’t want to wake up, didn’t even want to open his eyes, but eventually, after what seemed like a few minutes of peaceful rest, he decided to finally wake up. Another day… 

Shit, the light wasn’t supposed to be coming from the window yet, right? “Aw, damn it.” The moment he realized he’d overslept, adrenaline surged into his body and he jumped out of bed, reaching for any pair of clothes he had. In a sleep-deprived daze, he missed the chair that had his jeans and in a panic slipped, his furry socks having no friction on the floor. He groaned as he picked himself up off the floor. That certainly woke him up. 

“No… Fuck, is it even worth it?” The poor, innocent and stupid student said to himself as he jumped on one leg, trying to put on a pair of pants. He knew full well that even if it wasn’t worth making it to school he’d still have to go. He ran past his parents' room, both of them happily sleeping the day away, something he probably inherited from them. He’d always wondered what jobs they had that allowed them to live so freely, but whenever he asked they always started talking in that way people that have jobs in things you’ll never understand. Something about “Market-cooperative teamwork” and “Asserting Proactive Leadership”. Again, something completely out of his league.

He wished he’d see them panic sometimes, though. It always seemed like he was the scatter-brain of the house, constantly messing up or being late. Well, at least he wasn’t alone in this one, he thought as he saw the closed door of his sister’s room. The door was the only one in the house that was decorated, little swirls of paint filling its corners all centered around a giant, blue name. Beatrice, a fancy name that didn’t suit her personality. Years of living together meant he knew she only ever had the door closed when she was inside, and that meant she was late as well. He grinned, she was always a bit too smart for her own good, getting better grades than him and not being too scared to rub it in his face. It didn’t help that they were supposed to be twins, shouldn’t he have been born with the smarty-pants genes too? 

Well, he bragged right back on the rare occasions he managed to get one up on her in grades, acting like it was easy even though he’d spent countless more nights studying just to keep up. She was as bad at waking up as him, at least. Worse, actually. He felt like he was the only one in the family that could wake up to the sound of an alarm, and even then it was pretty much 50/50. Well, it was better than nothing. He thought as he kept walking right past her door. 

He’d have to wake her up soon, but like any good brother, he took advantage of the situation. He first went downstairs to brush his teeth and take a shower, taking his sweet time. It just came to him that if he was already late that there was no point in rushing… probably. Best not to think about it.  After putting his pants and shirt back on he headed to the fridge, checking if there were any tasty snacks he could steal for himself after. A pair of pudding cups, bingo.

Walking back up the stairs as he popped one open, sighing as he saw the clock.it set in just how late they’d be. They probably wouldn’t even make it before the first two classes ended. He knocked on his sister’s door loudly for a good ten seconds before giving up, he had to at least try to give her her privacy. Opening the door, he sighed as he saw just how messy her room was. He even had to pry the door open just to get past the trash, some of it spilling into the hallway. It was all just crumpled-up sketches and art supplies, but trash was still trash. He’d have to talk to her about it later. When he wasn’t in a hurry, of course.

He found her in her giant beanbag chair, still in her jeans and shirt from yesterday… Oh god, she even slept with her shoes on. The family’s little psychopath. Her head snapped back awkwardly as she slept the day away, woefully unaware of just how screwed they both were. She must have been working on her weird art all night… poor girl. He positioned his foot just right so it locked under the beanbag chair, pulling up and knocking it and his sister over. He tried not to laugh as she spasmed awake, trying to catch herself on anything before inevitably falling flat on her back. 

“Gah! Huh? Why awr you in m’room… Ugh...” She groaned as she rubbed her neck, probably stiff from the awkward way she had slept in. He smiled as she flailed her arms out in an attempt to get up. “Bea, we’re super late, we need to get going. Hurry up and get ready. Have a pudding cup.” He reached out an arm to help her up before it was slapped away, pudding cup and all. “Oh my god… I hate you so much. It’s Saturday, Michael. There’s no school.” She said, sneering and throwing a pencil next to her at him. He laughed confusedly, the pencil bouncing off his chest as the cogs in his head finally clicked together. It was the weekend, shit. He backed up a bit, the smile on his face falling just a bit. “Ah, well uh… I’m gonna go. Haha.” He said, laughing nervously.

He rushed out of the room as she suddenly picked up a pencil case, which would probably hurt a lot more than a pencil. He made it out and slammed the door just in time to hear the case smash into the wall, breaking open. The sounds of pencils scattering everywhere and his sister screaming in frustration made him run away that much faster. He laughed as he went down the stairs. She’d have to clean that up later. He’d probably pay for it but at least he wasn’t tired anymore. He had the whole day to waste on doing nothing now, and nothing was going to stop him.

He started his no doubt exciting weekend by making basic scrambled eggs and toast, frowning when the bread ended up black and burnt. He spooned the eggs while biting down on the crunchy coal he called toast, hurrying to eat so he could get the day going. It was a pretty decent meal, actually, and he’d already finished by the time his sister came downstairs. She looked pretty disgruntled, though he was sure it was less because of what he’d done and more because of sleepiness in general. Looking closer he realized she had an empty cup of pudding in her hands, tossing it into the trash as she came to the table and plopped down on the chair opposite of him. 

“I have to pick up everything thanks to you, so please make me something to eat.” She muttered, showing no mercy in her eyes just in case he said no. Her face plopped against the table as she struggled to open her eyes. He sighed, going to the fridge to get the ingredients. “Fine, next time when I think I'm late for school I’ll just not wake you up then.” She scoffed at him, glaring at his back while he went to the sink to wash the pan he’d just used. He didn’t really mind making something for her, even though he was a pretty bad cook it still felt nice to make something for someone. “What do you want? We’ve got eggs, and eggs. And uh… toast?”

The fridge didn’t offer much that an unskilled idiot like him could make. Her glare got sharper, but she didn’t complain. “Sunnyside down. I’ll make the toast, though. I don’t like how you like them all burnt. Ew.” He winced at the backhanded comment, “I don’t like them burnt,  they just... kinda end up like that.” She rolled her eyes, scooting past him on the way to the toaster. “Yeah, I know. Just focus on the eggs.” He gave her a glare but did as she said, he didn’t need to waste food for petty vengeance. “Just… make the toast.” He grumbled. She looked him right in the eye as he burst one of the yolks, making a mess in the pan. “Whatever you say, chef.” She placed the plate of toast next to him, “Just try to keep the rest intact.”

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

He was utterly defeated by his sister. In his self-pity, he made sure not another single egg split apart, being so careful as to take another spatula out. It had taken a while but Bea didn’t complain, scarfing down the food the moment it went on the table. He didn’t stay to watch, there were things to be done, after all. He ran to the living room and jumped onto the couch, ready to watch some tv. Things didn’t go as planned as he dived ribs first into his backpack, shouting in pain as he spasmed and fell to the floor, a broken mess.

He stayed there for a good minute, groaning in pain and wondering how a weekend could start so badly. Why was his backpack here anyway? His parents had always gotten mad at him for leaving it in random places. Not to mention, he’d spent all night yesterday studying for class, there was no way he’d come down here and tossed his backpack aside. It was a Sunday, so all of his books were upstairs, thrown all over his desk…So why did his backpack look so full? Still on the floor, he opened the bag only to be more confused. In place of his school supplies there was a massive book, taking up most of the space inside. It was way too big to belong to any of his classes, and that was saying something.

He stood up, closing the backpack and going back up to his room, ignoring his sister who was asking if there was any orange juice left in the fridge. He hid it instinctively, rushing past the kitchen. Even though he knew he hadn’t done anything bad he still felt as if he had stolen something. Reaching his room, he locked the door and dropped the bag on his desk, pulling out the massive piece of literature. It was covered in dark, scaly leather, gorgeous detail filling almost every inch of the front and back. A giant red ruby was latched in the middle, about the size of an apple. It looked expensive, extremely expensive. He wanted to open it but it was locked, a small keyhole under the ruby keeping the book from his prying eyes.

Did someone mistake his backpack for their own? No, he’d studied yesterday and that giant book was nowhere to be seen. Besides, no one at school would be dumb enough to lose something like this. He tried opening the book and peeking in between the cracks, but the pages didn’t budge. He kept trying to find some clue from the book and backpack, at some point flipping his bag inside out, nothing. It couldn’t just have fallen out of the sky, right? Maybe it was a gift from his parents, it was a bit unusual considering they were more into modern things but it wasn’t impossible. Maybe his dad had come into some extra cash to spend on useless antiques, a new hobby he was pursuing?

He really couldn’t ask, though. If they weren’t the gifters and he explained that it just came out of nowhere it was basically just confessing he’d stolen it. He almost laughed at how dumb it’d be if it wasn’t for the obvious consequences for what’d happen. He was already in deep waters from when he forced them to move. They’d strangle him if they found out about this. Tapping at the red ruby with a pen, he was sure it wasn’t plastic or anything, which just made him that much more panicked. This book might be expensive, absurdly expensive.

Maybe he was overthinking it. He was only 17, after all, not some person who had access to anything this old. His dad would wake up and slap him on the back, asking how Michael liked the present he got from a creepy coworker. Then he’d try his best to sound genuinely happy about the bad gift. Even if they weren’t the gifters, that'd just mean he’d have to live with this contraband for the rest of his life, maybe bury it outside and let the worms handle it.

Or maybe he could read it.

No one would be mad if he just busted the lock, right? How was he supposed to know the book was important, he could just act dumb if his dad got mad. ...Nah, it wasn’t worth it. It was probably just some boring text about olden times or some sort of religious text he wouldn’t even be able to read. The thing was 3 inches thick, nothing inside was worth taking the time to read nowadays. He placed the book under his bed and went downstairs. His sister had finished eating and, annoyingly enough, had taken his spot on the couch. 

She also had the remote, which meant he was going to have to watch what she wanted or risk dying in the process. He sat down next to her as she absentmindedly flipped through the channels, going past a few shows he really wanted to watch. “Hey uh, you might have gone past a good one, go back.” She didn’t listen, scratching her hair as she kept clicking past everything. This kept happening until she stopped at a random shopping channel, nothing either of them would watch. She gave him a quick glance and he noticed the hesitance in her eyes. He messed up.

 “So, what’d you steal?” She asked, making his heart stop. He forced himself to keep his face calm,  “I didn’t steal anything, what are you talking about.” He tried not to swallow, tried not showing how dry his mouth was. She didn’t buy it, though. “That’s not what it looked like to me, Michael. You always act weird when you do something bad, holding your backpack like it was a baby didn’t help either.”

She looked at him, actual concern in her eyes. “It wasn’t money, right? You wouldn’t do that, anymore, you promised. So what was it?” He flinched, surprised his sister would bring something like that up after almost a year. He actually felt bad, having his sister worry about him that much. “No, I… look, I promise I didn’t do anything bad. I just thought something bad happened and then everything turned out ok, ok Bea?” She stared at him for a few seconds before turning back to the TV, looking unconvinced. “Just… tell me if things happen. I don’t want things to happen like-” He stopped her, suddenly upset. “Yes Bea, I remember. I’m not going to do anything like that again.” She raised her hands in surrender. “Hey, I'm just saying. Mom doesn’t search my room every week so if you just-” 

He stood up, suddenly tired enough to go back to sleep. “Next time I try to do something like that, I’ll remember. Ok, Bea?” He sarcastically muttered, with a bit more venom than he meant. He walked back to his room, paying no mind to the blatant insults his sister was spouting at him as he walked away. She was way too perceptive for her own good, which was more a good thing than not, honestly. He didn’t know how but she always seemed correct, if he ever actually listened to her he’d probably still have a girlfriend and maybe have kept a few friends...

It was a brother’s duty to never listen to his sister, though, so he never really felt bad about it. He went into his room and searched for a bobby pin and a screwdriver. If he couldn’t watch TV the next best thing was to mess with the book. He had no idea how to pick a lock without a snap gun but if people on the television could do it then he was no different. He couldn’t find what he was looking for, everything even slightly pointy was no longer allowed in his room, and settled for a paperclip and eyebrow tweezers. It wasn’t much but it’d have to do, Besides, the lock on the book seemed ancient, it probably didn’t require much to open-

Michael turned and gawked at the book on his desk. Too busy looking for the materials, he didn’t pay attention to the book until right then. On the book, neatly placed inside the keyhole, was a long and black key, carved to resemble a sharp claw that was curled into a handle. His parents were still asleep, and as much as he thought highly of his sister he was pretty sure teleportation was outside her skillset. His brain buzzed, his lips went dry as multiple scenarios went through his head. Was there someone in the house? Was someone playing a prank on him? In a state of panic, he couldn’t think. In that moment of complete idiocy, he turned the key. 

He honest-to-god turned the fucking key.

For a second he held that stance, the key had unlocked but he didn’t dare to let go and open the book. Whoever had done this had obviously done this for him, and whatever would be inside obviously wasn’t going to be good. Blackmail, a death threat, perhaps? He didn’t know, he couldn’t until he actually opened the damn thing. His hand was gripping the key hard enough for his knuckles to go white. Taking in a deep breath, he let go. Or at least he wanted to. The moment his fingers stopped touching the Talon-like key it shifted and morphed, whipping forward and stabbing him in the hand.

He tried crying out for help, a terrifying moving claw creature definitely wasn’t something he could take care of himself. Before he did so, his eyesight started blurring and the world around him started to sway, a painful pressure appearing in the back of his skull. It was a sickening feeling, like he wanted to throw up but wasn’t allowed. Even when his mind started shutting down, a part of him realized he’d been poisoned. He tried to grab himself on the desk before he fell but in the process slammed his chin into it. There was a few seconds of rhythmic spasming on the floor before Michael finally passed out, frothing at the mouth. It was something that by all accounts would be seen as a dead 16-year-old kid.