{Callon's House}

I walk up the short paved driveway that leads up to a small, forest green, two story house. Identical houses going up and down the rest of the street.

I grimace as my eyes land on the red Honda that's parked out front.

She's home.

It had taken me twenty whole minutes before I got the opportunity to get off that train.

While going around a bend, it had slowed down. Allowing me to jump down and grab a limb from one of the many trees near the tracks. Leaving me dangling ten feet in the air.

So then I shimmied down the tree, following the tracks back to town.

Easy as pi.

Only now I'm over an hour later than I usually am getting home.

I walk up the couple steps leading to the front door, wincing as another stab of pain shoots through my head.

I pause as a sudden dizziness assaults me, bringing a hand up to massage my temple for a second.

Not now.

I relax my face, trying to look somewhat normal. I reach into my back pocket, pulling the house key out.

Opening the door, I immediately walk into a small yet comfortable living room. A leather sofa, a coffee table, TV, and a fireplace with two lounge chairs on either side completes the decor.

And sitting in one of the lounge chairs over by the fireplace, is my aunt.

Orenda Bates.

Her darker, reddish skin makes it look like she has a permanent tan. Apparently - as she likes to brag, it comes from her being a pure-blooded Native American. Her long straight black hair being a part of that also.

She continues to ignore me, her eyes down on a book she has in her hands, a cup of untouched coffee sitting on the little table beside her.

Great. The silent treatment.

I slip my black Converses off, arranging them neatly next to the door. I then slide my backpack off, dropping it down on the ground behind the sofa.

I'll get it later.

Her dark brown eyes glance over at me as I straighten up, a disapproving look on her face.

I place the key in a little bowl that's on a shelf by the door, stuffing my hands back in my pocket as I lean against the wall. The pain in my head only getting worse.

The silence continues, growing thicker by the second.

She gently closes the book, a sigh coming from her. "So, where were you?" She asks, her face coming up to meet mine.

I look her in the eye.

Her usual carefree, enthusiastic manner gone. Her face drawn with dismay, worry, and some anger.

I give her a sheepish smile, leaning my head back against the wall as another spasm of pain runs through it.

"I just went on a walk." I defend.

What? I did. It's not a complete lie.

She raises an eyebrow, obviously not buying it. "Well next time you decide to go on a "walk," make sure you at least send me a text." Worry leaks into her voice.

Orenda's always been way too overprotective when it comes to me. But I guess losing your only sister and both parents does that to a person.

I look down in shame.

I hate worrying her. Which is basically all I've done my whole life.

Straightening up, I walk around the sofa over towards her. Leaning down, I wrap a arm around her shoulders in a half hug.

She sighs, patting my arm. "I'm sorry." I apologize, pressing my lips together. "Well, no harm no foul right?" She perks up, acting more like her usual self.

"Right." I mumble in agreement, knowing it's anything but that.

She stands up. "But hey!" She faces me. "Isn't tomorrow someone's sixteenth birthday?" She taps her chin, looking thoughtful.

I smirk, crossing my arms over my chest.

She smiles back, playfully slapping me on the arm. "My little Cal's gonna be all grown up before I know it." She pensively says, sadness leaking into her eyes as they grow cloudy.

An ache pulls on my heart. But I ignore it.

I roll my eyes. "I'm not exactly 'little' anymore." I grumble, looking down at her to prove my point.

She pats me on the back, smirking. "Yeah, yeah." She heads towards the kitchen. "Brag about how much taller you are." She waves a hand. "I'll be fixing supper." She says, looking back at me.

I halfheartedly nod my head, not really hungry with my head feeling like it's repeatedly getting jabbed with forks.

She furrows her brow, looking me over with studying eyes. "Are you alright?" She questions.

I walk back over to the door, collecting my backpack. "I'm fine. Just got a lot of homework to do." I assure her, heading up the stairs to my room.

Immediately as you get to the top of the stairs there's a hallway. Two doors on the left and two on the right.

I continue through the hallway, passing the bathroom, Orenda's room, and her study.

Opening the door on the left, I'm met with the same view that I woke up with this morning.

A large window that leads out to a small balcony overlooking the backyard is the main attraction, the only thing different from your average room. There's a desk pushed up in one of the corners, my bed over on the right side of the room. A simple bedside table with a lamp and a digital clock sitting on it, a dresser immediately on the left when you go in, and a closet beside it.

The walls are painted a dark sea blue, the trim silver. Which I find kinda odd, yet interesting at the same time.

Shutting the door with my foot as I walk through, I dump my bag on the bed. Rummaging through my middle drawer, I pull out a pair of dark sweatpants.

I pull my Beanie off, tossing it carelessly on-top of the dresser as I run my fingers through my tangled hair.

Who needs a brush?

Opening the door, I enter the hallway again, walking over to the small - yet decent sized bathroom.

After I've taken care of business and changed my pants. I grab the bottom of my hoodie, raising my arms up as I pull it completely off.

As I'm straightening my white short sleeve shirt that I wear underneath, my eyes glance over at the large mirror that hangs over the sink.

I've always been told by my aunt that I look a lot like both my parents.

My six foot height and naturally muscular frame - that's easy to hide when wearing a hoodie, reflects back at me.

Raven black hair falls down in layers to just below my shoulders, bangs hanging just slightly over my eyes - usually held back when I'm wearing my Beanie.

My pale-ish skin makes me look like I've never seen the light of day when comparing me to Orenda. But I'm not like chalk white.

I've got my mother's Native American heritage to thank for that.

I also don't grow facial hair.

Which Orenda swears is from my mother also, even though most Native Americans these days have facial hair.

        Trust me. I've looked into it.

My face has a sharp bone structure - yet not to the extent it looks like my skin is being pulled as tight as possible.

Disgust runs through me as my eyes land on my ears.

They start out looking like your everyday, normal ears. But at their ends - instead of them rounding, like they should. They have a point, making them almost a inch longer than what they really should be.

Hence the reason you'll never catch me outside unless I have some-sort of hat covering my ears.

I hate them.

Orenda says I shouldn't. She says I should be glad I didn't end up with a missing limb or something worse. That a birth-defect isn't something to be ashamed of.

Well, she's not the one who has to deal with it on a daily basis.

I glance down at my bare arms.

Odd scar-like-veins run in thin lines around both forearms. Even fanning out over some of my chest and shoulder, running up them to the back of my neck, like tendrils of fingers. They're a shade lighter then the rest of my skin, thankfully making them not-so obvious unless you look closely.

Yet another birth-defect. Says my aunt.

Then, there's my eyes.

Dark blue.

But not just that. They're a hard, solid dark blue. Barely a trace of those normal lines you can make out in most everyone's eyes.

I think people often assume I wear color contacts seeing as they often do a double-take once they see them.

Add the jet-black hair and my paler complexion. Making my eyes stand out in stark contrast - like a lamp does in the dark of night.

I look like a genetic freak.

I shake my head, grabbing my jeans and hoodie before heading out the door.

Throwing my laundry in the hamper that's by the door as I walk back in my room, I bend over, opening my backpack.

I straighten back up as more dizziness hits me. This time nausea deciding to join in also.

Taking a deep breath, I squeeze my eyes shut for a few seconds. I wince as I reopen them, the light in the room suddenly becoming way too bright.

I lean sideways, switching the main light off on the wall. The room instantly darkening just a tad bit.

Much better.

With the room now starting to shift underneath my feet. I stumble over towards the window. As I pass the dresser, I reach for my Beanie.

Automatically placing it protectively over my head as I make my way over to the window.

Opening up the part that's specifically used as a door, I step out onto the balcony.

My hands tightly grasp the metal railing, my head sinking down low as I take a few deep breaths. Trying to control the nausea, the sweat that's breaking out on my forehead.

The sun is currently working on setting for the evening, a winter breeze blowing over my exposed skin.

It doesn't bother me.

I glance down at our decent sized backyard.

It's fenced in with a ten foot tall picket fence, keeping anyone from seeing in.

Inside lays our very own archery range. A couple foam targets set up in different directions, even a spot specifically for sword practice.

I know. That must sound completely ridiculous.

Who nowadays, has a archery range in their backyard? And practices sword fighting....daily?

Well, we do.

You see, my aunt was a archeologist. More specifically, she was a medieval archeologist.

She was twenty-five when she was lucky enough to become my guardian. But before that, she'd been traveling the world. Picking up a few things here and there, that she now keeps in her study.

She claims she was taught archery and how to properly fight with a sword by someone who's a descendant of a knight from way back then.

Or something confusing like that.

But judging by how good she is, I'd say someone taught her well. And now she's insisting she teaches me.

Now she's currently a librarian, working at the towns library. Complete opposite of what she claims she used to do.

And I know she misses it.

I see her sometimes stare off into space, a small smile on her lips as she recalls something from her past.

I've always felt slightly guilty about that. I mean, I am the reason she can't do any of that anymore.

      Legal guardian, responsibilities, yada yada.

      Fun times.

I sigh, taking one more deep breath before making myself go back inside to do some long overdo homework.

Straightening back up, I walk inside. Leaving the window open.

Knowing I'll need some light if I'm going to get any work done. I hesitantly flip on the lamp that's sitting on the bedside table.

I keep my eyes shut for moment, then slowly open them. Blinking rapidly as just that little light sends stabs of pain through my head.

I groan, using both palms of my hands to massage my forehead. I sit crisscross on my bed, spreading papers around after I pull them out of my bag.

I glance over at the clock: 5:04 P.M. Thursday, January 12. 2017.....obviously.

Time to get started.

~~~~*~~~~

I bite the end of my pencil, right leg bouncing up and down, left hand tapping my knee as I reread the same sentence for the sixth time in a row.

Focus.

My attention snaps over towards the door as there's a sudden knock, then it opens.

          Not much privacy around here.

Orenda stands in the doorway, her face turning concerned as she takes in the dark room, her eyes landing on me.

She walks in.

I keep my eyes focused on the biology book in my lap, fingers still tapping away.

I hear her shiver, wrapping her arms around herself as she walks over and shuts the window.

She stops in front of me. "You didn't come down for supper." She states.

Huh? It's only what, six o'clock?

I raise my head over towards the clock, just now noticing it's dark outside: 7:25 P.M.

I hate it when this happens.

Slightly grimacing, I look up at her. "Sorry." I simply say, going back to trying to work on my homework.

Keyword, "trying."

I reread that same sentence again, irritation sparking in me. I hear her sigh, then I feel the mattress tilt down as she sits down next to me.

"Cal." She quietly says, trying to get my attention.

I slowly look up at her with my eyes, still keeping my face angled down.

She takes her right hand, gently placing it on the top of my head. Then she slips the Beanie off, my hair falling down in my eyes. "That's better." She quietly states, a small smile on her lips.

She takes her hand again, carefully moving the hair from my face. Immediately frowning as she notices the sweat gathering on my forehead. "Do you want me to bring you something up to eat?" She asks, her forehead creasing.

My stomach clenches.

         "I'm not hungry." I shrug, my eyes glancing down at the floor. She looks around, then down at the stack of papers in my lap.

Squinting, she picks up one of the papers.

"I don't know how you can read all this in the dark." She holds it up to her face, eyes scrunching together. "Because, I don't care what you say." She gestures to the little lamp. "That dinky lamp doesn't do squat." She makes a face, throwing the paper down.

Well, I can see well enough.

"Hey, watch what you're saying about my lamp." I joke, my bad mood dissipating for a moment.

She smiles, patting me on the back. "There's the Cal I know!" She happily sings, leaning backwards as she crosses her legs on my bed.

My own smile disappears, and I glance down again.

She taps her knee for a moment, indecision showing clearly in her actions.

I look up. "Cal, I know it's hard for you around this time of the year." She starts, her voice soft.

I clench my hand tightly around my pencil, feeling it bend under the pressure.

"But that shouldn't stop you from celebrating your birthday." She places her hand over mine, looking me in the eye. "They'd want you to enjoy it."

A void in my chest tightens uncomfortably, and I look down.

Most kids get excited about their birthdays. Not me. For as long as I can remember, I've always dreaded this time of the year.

Don't ask me why, because I don't even know myself.

But for the first couple days before my birthday, and for a few days after. My attitude literally takes a turn for the worst.

Now I'm never talkative at school or anywhere else.

The only place I feel like I can be myself without someone staring oddly over at me, is when I'm at home with Orenda.

I'm still not overly talkative, more sarcastic though - a trait I apparently got from my father.

For about a week I'm left feeling like there's a hole in my chest, slowly eating me alive.

Reducing me to.....well, this basically.

Orenda says it's grief from not having any parents, that it hits me harder around my birthday because it reminds me that they aren't here. Her often reminding me that I've done this for as long as I've lived with her.

  Twelve years.

Orenda suddenly reaches into the pocket of her baggie Christmas sweater - and yes, she's still wearing those - bringing out a small wrapped box.

"I know we don't really do much to celebrate. But how about after I get home tomorrow I'll fix some homemade pizza and then we can play a board game?" She questions, gauging my reaction.

Pizza.

Of course she would throw in one of my favorite foods.

And with not being able to eat regular store-bought pizza unless I want to get a horrible stomach ache, I only eat homemade.

Which means we don't eat it very often.

I feel another smile spread across my lips. "What, so I can beat you in Clue again?" I smirk, looking up at her.

I honestly like board games. It's just sometime I don't have the patience to sit through a full game.

"Hey, watch it." She playfully warns, narrowing her eyes at me. She goes quiet again, running her thumb over the little box that's in her hand.

I lean my head to the side, curiosity getting the best of me.

She finally speaks again. "So your birthday is technically only in a couple hours, and with both of us working tomorrow, I think you should open your present now." She quietly says, her voice thick.

She holds the box delicately out to me.

I slowly take it.

It's wrapped in blue wrapping paper, the box being only a couple inches in both length and height. Very light.

"It's from your parents." I swing my gaze up to hers, astonishment - I'm sure on my face.

I give her a questioning look.

"They told me to give this to you on your sixteenth birthday. And so I am." She explains, her eyes focused on the box.

I look back down, heart thumping in my ears. Making the pain in my head pulse with each beat.

I carefully undo the wrapping paper until I'm left holding a plain white box.

I lift the lid off.

My eyebrows furrow as they land on what's inside, my breath catching.

A piece of a smooth black stone lays inside, about three inches long and two inches wide. A cord of old looking dark brown leather loops through a small hole that's located at the thickets end of the stone.

I just stare at it, an odd feeling enveloping me.

I'm pulled from my thoughts as Orenda wraps me in a tight hug - as-if she's afraid to let go.

I return the hug, my arms wrapping around her.

"Remember, Cal." She whispers, her head on my shoulder. "I love you no matter what." Her voice grows thick with emotion.

What's all this about?

She pulls back, bringing a hand up to her face as she wipes her misty eyes. Patting me on the shoulder, she stands up.

She lets a breath out, taking a couple steps. "It's still too dark." She mumbles, then she leans over, turning the light up on the lamp.

I wince, looking away.

She notices.

Coming back over, she places her hand back on my head, gently rubbing her thumb over my forehead.

"Another one?" She tenderly asks, referring to my headache. I look away, clearing my throat. "Yeah." I answer.

She sighs. "That's the second one this week." She wearily states.

I shrug. I can't control it.

She kisses me on the forehead, lightly patting my head.

"I'll go fix some Butterbur tea for you." She says, walking towards the door.

The one thing that seems to help with the pain.

"Thank you." I mumble, my eyes back on the present. She pauses her steps. "Keep it with you at all times, Cal." She oddly adds.

But before I can question her, she's out the door, shutting it behind her.

I lean back against the wall, my shoulders slouching as I stare down at the stone in the box.

It looks simple, but the longer you stare at it, the more it reveals.

It's a simple pitch black stone - almost in the shape of an arrowhead. But as I stare at it, I begin to see lines of different colors melt out of the darkness, giving it a magical feel.

I tap my left hand on my knee, my right foot bouncing. I don't know why I'm being so hesitant. I hold the box in my left hand, bringing my right out to pick it up.

Delicately grabbing the cord two fingers, I lift it out of the box. Suspending it in the air.

I twist the cord around in-between my thumb and index finger, watching as the stone twirls, catching the rays of light from the lamp.

Reaching out with my left hand, I slowly touch it with my finger.

I gasp as a bright light explodes in my head. My vision goes blurry and I squeeze my head in-between both hands, trying to make the relentless waves of pain stop.

It doesn't.

I start panting, my eyes watering.

It feels like someone's stabbed a knife through the top of my head, slowly twisting it around in my brain.

A deep pressure builds up behind my eyes.

I tighten my hold on my head, my vision suddenly going completely dark before lighting back up with a hazy outline - like watching a fuzzy movie.

A blurred smiling face, deep comforting laughter, a hand gently caressing my cheek.

A sky so blue it looks almost artificial. A tall building.

I look up at someone as they reach down, lifting me up onto their hip. Another person walks over, this one wearing a long dress.

Both faces are blurred, hidden. But suddenly they start to clear.

Dark hair, smiles so bright you'd be blinded by them. Laughter.

Then it all changes.

Fire, agonizing screams, carnage, hordes of monster-like creatures from horror stories marching up a stone street.

Another blurry face.

This time the lips move, and I hear a soft voice.

"We're waiting."

I gasp as I'm suddenly transported back to my room, the bulb in the little lamp suddenly exploding into shards of glass.

Leaving me back in the darkness.

I take my shaky hands down from my throbbing head, my chest rising and falling like I just sprinted five miles.

What was that?

I locate the necklace on the floor - me having thrown it down without realizing it, letting a shaky breath out.

The pressure in my head is only a dull throb now, even my headache from earlier feeling less painful - like a door's been opened, taking the pain away.

I lean over, my trembling hand pausing an inch away from touching the stone that's laying innocently on the floor.

I frown, biting my lip.

In one swoop I pick it up in my hand. Involuntarily wincing as I expect another wave of pain.

And another.....whatever that was.

I gulp, looking down at the stone that's now firmly tucked in my hand. It feels normal now.

I run a hand down my face. Great, just what I needed. Some stone that makes you see things.

I toss it on the bed beside me, my knee bouncing up and down.

Orenda's words echo in my head. "Keep it with you at all times."

Maybe I imagined it?....Maybe a migraine induced hallucination?

I snort. Yeah right. I pick the cord up, dangling the odd stone in front of my face again.

I narrow my eyes. Using both hands, I reach up. Tying the cord behind my neck.

The light weight of the stone rests on my chest, a comforting warmth emitting from within it.

I know. Why in the world am I wearing the same thing that just caused me pain?

Well, Why'd I jump off a bridge? Common sense obviously isn't my forte.

And it was my parents, so there must be a reason why they wanted me to have it. I can't just toss it out like a piece of garbage.

No. I have a feeling it's important somehow.....

It has a purpose.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A/N

Questions!

1. Whatcha think of the chapter?

2. What do you think of Callon and his aunt?

So, guys. Before I publish another chapter, I'm gonna need at-least 5 Votes and 8 comments. (I'm cruel, I know.😅)

So PEOPLE, if you want to see this book get updated more frequently, you've got to Vote and/or Comment!!

It makes me more motivated when I actually see a vote or a comment on something I've spent so much time on.....it makes it more worthwhile.😃

So think on that when you read this, don't stay silent by not voting and/or commenting.

Make a name for yourself.

.......Okay, sorry. I just had to put that out there.👌🏻

Next update: Like I said, I want Those Votes and comments preferably before I update again. So the faster y'all vote and comment, the faster I'll put together the next chapter. 😁

P.S. I also changed the cover if you didn't notice. (The other one was just temporary, but I might change this one eventually also.😆)

Maggy

Edited: 7/26/17