Mother of Darkwaters: Book one of the Vessel series (6 page)

   “Just don't do what your colleague did and we're good,” Caroline's words sound more like a plea than the joke she had intended.

   The man stops. He turns around to face Caroline. A puzzled look is upon his face.

  
Oh great! Good job Caroline. You just made the super god angry. Now you've had it, stupid.

   The man carefully considers the teen's last statement. His lingering gaze causes Caroline to shift uncomfortably within her chair. She seems more embarrassed than afraid. Her eyes shift their focus onto the paper within her lap. The man grins.

   “Done,” he answers with a tone of professionalism. He immediately turns and continues walking back for the window in which he prefers.

   Without turning back to face the human girl, the being continues, “Read back that last statement, Recorder.” His eyes take in the city's scenery outside of the window.

   Caroline scans the page and nervously reads aloud, “Peace as a concept, yes. Peace for humans, never. Not now. Not ever. It is only the illusion of peace in which humans can ever achieve. They are too busy quarreling over rocks.”

   The being's eyes narrow as he concentrates. He begins speaking as if the Recorder is an object and not that of a human female named Caroline.

   “We know the deepest and darkest of their secrets. We know exactly what it takes to cause any single one of them to sell out their own mothers. We know what attracts them, what they fear, what they dream of, and where they wish to go in order to call themselves successful.”

   “My kind has always been around this uh - modern man. They are the same in their high sky rises as they were in their darkened caves. Nothing has changed within their hearts. They still abuse, rape, murder, and spin truth in the name of their individual beliefs. They have not changed whatsoever.”

   “Humans have advanced in retrospect concerning their innovations, medicines, and their technologies. But since their hearts never change, their creations will become their own destruction. And the beauty if it all, they can't even see it coming. Their pride will not allow it.”

   “Consider the human's advancements within the realm of their computers. It will not be much longer before their computers are one-billion times smarter than all humans who have ever lived and died. And in the spirit of humanistic splendors, the humans are rejoicing over this accomplishment. But this egotistical species will refuse to see the destructiveness of what they are doing.”

   “Their egos will convince them that they have everything under control. But the day will come when these computers will learn to re-program themselves. When this occurs, this marvel will subdue the human species.”

   “Computer intelligence demanding humans to worship it as a god. It is a rather beautiful symphony of an idea to my kind. We grow tired of them. And it will be by their own greedy hands which will bring us the greatest of footholds into this realm yet. Yes, a beautiful symphony indeed.”

   “We are far superior to that of the humans. But my kind has been placed within a boundary of unbreakable laws. We must adhere to these laws. Or pay extreme prices. Prices we do not want to pay.”

   “A very long time ago, my colleagues and I tried to break these laws. We have paid dearly for that mistake. We are still paying. And the debt is not yet collected in full. Most of what we did was because of the humans. As a result, some of us are punished to live among them. We have been forced to watch, listen, and to wait.”

   The man turns and examines the girl writing. She writes fast and is good at what she does. He holds his words until her pen stops. When she looks up he smiles his approval. With a nod, he turns and continues his speech.

   “We watch the humans evolve. We listen to them whine and argue over their existence. And we must wait for the time to come for our final payment to be made. Yes, we grow tired of them.”

   “The human existence has become our playground. Our very punishment places us within this scenario. But even with this, we grow tired of their insistent groaning. They argue and deny the true nature of their makeup because they do not understand those parts which are unmeasurable by their limited understanding of measures. And for some, they just don't want to know.”

   “We, however, are very aware of the human's complete makeup. While they waste their short-lived lives arguing over and over again, we interact with them each and every day. We speak to them, but they believe it to be their own ideas. We influence them, but they call it a hidden desire – a feeling. The more they deny our existence, the easier it is for us to affect them. It is quite entertaining when I truly think about the irony.”

   “While I, myself, enjoy the challenges of subtlety, there are some of us that do not. I believe the label the humans use today is haters.” The man pauses. He turns and looks at Caroline.

   “Haters?”, he questions, “Is this correct?”

   Caroline looks up and smiles with a single nod of acceptance. The man ignores her amused facial expression and turns back around.

   He continues, “Those who are haters wish to torment the humans. They enjoy such things tremendously. They will scratch them, burn them, and make objects move in the human realm in order to heighten their fear. The haters will manipulate dream cycles. Nightmares, I believe they are referred to.”

   “Needless to say, we are far superior to humans. We interact with them persistently. But they deny their own existence to the point they cannot see the truth within our existence. To our benefit, I assure you. This denial is our strength. It gives us the ultimate advantage. And we aim to keep it this way. The more they deny – the more we can play.”

  
beep. beep. beep.

   Caroline faintly hears what seems to be a noise made by some type of electronic device. It is familiar, but is too muffled to distinguish its true nature.

  
beep. beep. beep.

   The seventeen-year-old feels the presence of the tall being in front of her. She looks up to meet his inviting gaze. The girl imagines falling into those brown dove’s eyes. She could lose herself in him without any care left in the world. Her hands sweat in anticipation as the mystical being offers her his own large hands for the taking. He smiles his boyish grin while he helps her stand.

  
beep. beep. beep.

   Caroline's eyes drift toward the thickening sounds of repetitious electronic pulses coming from her left. Her attention focuses back onto the being when he places one of his hands upon her chest. His warmth covers her heart. The sudden surge of power causes Caroline's legs to turn weak. She has a strong desire to faint. The girl fights to stand upright, but the option is not there. She collapses into his strong arms. He gently lays her on the cool marble floor.

   Before Caroline's eyelids force themselves shut, the gorgeous man nears his lips close to her right ear. As her eyes close, she embraces his words,

   “You are mine, earthly-one. I feel your desire. I know your heart. And you have intrigued me, Recorder.”

  
beep. Beep. Beep.

   Caroline sits up.

  
Beep. Beep. Beep.

   She looks to her left. On her nightstand sits an alarm clock. Turning it off, Caroline's legs swing to the right side of the bed – her feet auto-finds her pink rabbit house shoes.  She glances back at her bed. The sweat soaked silky bed sheets are a testament to the beads of water glistening upon her face.

   The teen heads to the bathroom to brush her teeth and take a much needed shower. While looking in the mirror with a toothbrush in her mouth, she notices three scratches on her right cheek.

  
Not again.

   She immediately examines her chest and sees an imprint of a hand.

  
That's new. Keep this up and they'll have me in a straitjacket in no time.

   Caroline rolls her eyes within her doubt and returns to her morning ritualistic onslaught of beauty time. With a last check in the mirror, she heads downstairs to the early morning smells of breakfast at the Reynold's household.

  
Sizzle. Pop. Sizzle.

   “Ew!” Caroline's mouth puckers in response to the disgusting smell of frying bacon forcing its way into her nose, “I don't know how you can shove that nasty stuff into your mouth.”

   Caroline's mom turns with bagel in hand. She kisses her daughter on the forehead as the girl swipes the cream cheese covered delight.

   “Good morning to you, too,” Victoria responds.

   “I'm starving,” the girl with brown pinned-back hair says, “Where's the..? Never mind.”

   Caroline shoves the bagel between her teeth to free up her hands for the inviting orange juice sitting on the table. She pours a glass, takes a bite of her bagel, and washes it down with her drink.

   “One of these days that bagel's going to choke you,” the woman of her late thirties boasts with a slight touch of motherly concern.

   “Not before that pig fat gets you.”

   Victoria laughs. She takes another bite of her bacon strip while in full eye's view of her daughter. Caroline responds with a look of disgust. Her mother grins with a playful triumph before noticing the faint lines upon her daughter's cheek.

   “Scratch yourself in your sleep again?”, Victoria stares at the marks.

   “Is it bad?”, Caroline answers, “I tried to cover them. But they're deep.”

   “You need to salve them,” Victoria responds, “Not infect them with makeup.”

   “After school. I promise,” Caroline informs her mother of her decision.

   “See that you do,” Victoria accepts her daughter's decision, “And you might consider wearing mittens when you go to bed.”

   “Ha. Funny.”

  
Honk. Honk.

   Caroline scarfs down her bagel, slams her o.j. back, and heads for the front door after grabbing her backpack.

“Hey,” the girl's mother exclaims, “Aren't you forgetting something?”

   Caroline partially turns her head back while marching for the door, “Love ya!”

   Victoria responds even louder as her daughter opens the door, “Love you, too!”

   The front door slams shut. Victoria shakes her head slowly while grinning. She polishes off the bacon strip before attending to her morning duties of dishes, laundry, and the ever so lovely gift of motherly house cleaning.

   Caroline opens the passenger side door of the deep blue custom metallic Ford Mustang 5.0. The latest model, this car is fully loaded with all available options. For Rebecca's parents, money is a non-issue. Caroline has often thought they just might swim in the stuff when no one is looking. She opens the door, seats herself inside, and pulls the door closed.

    
Click.

   “Hey girl, you ready to conquer the day?”, Rebecca Hindsworth asks with no response expected. The blond hair blue-eyed girl fits the a-typical stereotype of the Californian buxom beauty to a tee. She, expertly, throws her stick shift into the first position. The rear tires chirp as her right foot overeagerly presses down on the gas pedal.

   Rebecca commands the voice auto-feature of her radio to play her favs with the volume set to a comfortable conversational level. The curly blond keeps her eyes on the road while questioning her bff.

   “What happened to you last night? I tried texting and calling. You know how I hate to actually make a phone call.”

   “I've not been sleeping well lately,” Caroline answers.

    “Dreams again?”

   “Yeah. Something like that.” Caroline stares out of the passenger side window. A world which seems to be increasingly more distant each day is passing by.

   “What about the marks?”, Rebecca quickly denotes, “And don't tell me you did it to yourself.”

   Caroline defensively responds, “They're from me, Becca. Freddy Kruegar is not real. Fictional character, remember?”

   Rebecca softens her probing, “Sorry, Caroline. I know Freddy's dead. I watched them kill him…over and over and over and..” She pauses momentarily before finishing, “Over and over and over again.”

   Caroline looks at Rebecca. Her frustration gives way to a small smile. Rebecca winks with her right eye. She commands her radio to maximize its volume.

  
Screech!

   “Hey skank! Watch where you're going!”, Rebecca yells after locking the tires up on the parking lot of West Hills High School. She narrowly escapes a head on collision with an older model Chevy pickup truck. Pulling into one of the reserved student stalls, Rebecca continues to vent her irritation,

   “I hate poor people.”

   Caroline cocks her left brow, “Say what you want, Rebecca. But that poor girl over there has something to drive. I don't even have that.”

   Rebecca rolls her eyes, “Gawd, you're full of all kinds of depressing. You need some serious sleep.” Rebecca turns off her ignition, gets out of her car, and shuts the door. Caroline follows her team captain’s example and makes her way around to the driver's side of the car. Rebecca Hindsworth activates her car's alarm with her keychain,

   “Come on, Ms. Sadness. Let's get into some trouble.”

   “It’s just a dream, Becca,” Caroline counters while walking towards the street that divides the student parking lot from the school.

   “Rebecca! Caroline!”, a brunette with brown eyes and shoulder-length hair yells out from further down the hallway. An eighteen-year-old by the name of Jennifer Hammond quickly walks up to meet the two girls standing by their lockers. She holds up her smartphone for easy view, “You have got to see this.” She activates the play feature on the video. The video portrays a woman in her mid-twenties kissing an older gentleman wearing a suit. He looks to be in his forties.