And So, My Life Changed
Thunder. Flashes of lightning. Storm clouds. I stood in the middle of an open field, wind buffeting me from all directions.
“It’s about time,” an irritated voice came from behind me.
I whirled around. Behind me was a boy, about a head taller than me, who looked to be about sixteen, a year older than me. With slightly slanting stormy gray, almost black eyes, long blue-black hair that was going for a “windswept” look, and contrasting white skin, he looked like he belonged in the middle of a crowd of love-struck girls. All of his features, proud, dark eyes, straight nose, haughty mouth, said that he was descended from nobles. And not just any nobles, royalty, like the royal family of England, or France, or even Rome.
“Well?” he looked even more irritated, “You know, the first thing people do when they first meet is introduce themselves,” he had a slight accent that I couldn’t place, faint, but strong enough for it to be noticeable.
I blinked, and then, in a mocking way, bowed to him, and because I have never been the best at keeping my thoughts in my head and out of my mouth, said in a mockingly grave voice, “My name is Dayna Walker. And may I be so bold as to inquire your name, Your Annoyed-ness?” I raised an eyebrow at him.
He looked at me, shock plain on his face. My reaction was clearly not what he expected. And then he grinned, the irritation suddenly all but forgotten, “Well, you have a spark, don’t you?” he paused, “My name is—“
Suddenly the wind picked up, rushing in towards me with even greater force. Spinning around me, within seconds, I was in the middle of a twister. I brought my hands up to cover my ears…
And then I jerked awake. My room came into focus around me. Clean, orderly, all except for my desk. My desk was covered in various tests from this year, as well as more than twenty photos scattered around my computer and printer. This flaw to an otherwise perfectly ordered room was a source of constant annoyance for my mother.
I sat up and put one hand over my face. That wasn’t the first time I had had that dream. Although, that was the first time I saw that boy there. Before, all there was to see was the open field with storm clouds everywhere. Well, that and an echo, kind of like somebody was calling me, but I could never hear them.
“Dayna! It’s time to get up! Don’t make me come in there!” My mother’s voice sounded from another room.
I sighed and looked at the clock. 6:30a.m, oh well, could be worse for a Saturday, once I had to get up at 1:15a.m. I stood up, stretched and went to take my shower. About twenty minutes later, after I had gotten dressed and I had dried my hair, I walked over to the mirror that hung above my desk. A fifteen-year-old girl who looked like she should actually be thirteen or fourteen stared back at me. A pretty face, if you’re into large, dark blue eyes and dark, mid-length, wavy crimson hair which I usually, like today, tie back into a regular ponytail with a few wisps escaping to frame my face, like the teachers from back when I was a primary in elementary school always seemed to fall for. Slightly olive coloured skin, heart shaped face, cupids’ bow mouth that can speak three, nearly four languages, English, Sarcasm, Smart-ass-ism and I’m working on French, I’m very proud, medium height and slender build, according to my mother, I looked just like my father, who died before I can remember. I don’t look a thing like my mother, who had short white-blonde hair, a tall, lean build from being employed by the military, light brown eyes and snow-white skin.
“Dayna!” My mother called me again.
I ran through our small apartment and sat down at the table. My mother was sitting at the other end of the table.
“Good morning mother,” I said to her as I started to eat the cereal that was already on my place mat.
“Good morning. Today we’re going to be going to a military school up north,” my mother said, “So, I’m going to go get some groceries. I will be back within half an hour. You should have your bag packed by then.”
“Sure thing mom. Just be sure to get some extra water. You know how the schools tend to suck me dry.” I smiled at her.
“Well, then please be ready by the time I’m back,” she stood up, and walked out of the front door, “Oh, and can you please clear out the dishwasher while you’re at it?” and shut the door.
I leaned back in my chair and sighed. This is the sixth military school my mom has taken me to this year. Both of my parents are (or were, if you count my dad) in the military. My dad died a while back, so I don’t even remember his face, but I’ve heard about him from my mother. Back when my mom was younger, she was stationed in Iraq, and there was a small skirmish. Dad saved mom’s life, and mom had insisted on repaying him in whatever way possible, until their relationship went from savior/saved to lover/lover. But a few months after I was born, dad died saving the lives of his squadron from a bomb. “Willing to save others at any cost, even his life,” was how mom always described him...I wish I had known him.
After I finished my cereal, I made sure that my bag was ready. Of course, there wasn’t much to do, thanks to the fact that all I needed was a) an extra set of clothes b) some snacks (energy snacks of course) c) a notebook to record all of the pros and cons of this particular school and d) my trusty camera, you never know when you can get a good photo.
I walked out of my room with my bag, and set it down on my chair. Crossing into the kitchen, I pulled open the dishwasher and started to put the dishes back into their proper places. And then…
Suddenly just as I was carrying some dishes to the cupboard, I stiffened. I heard a voice, the voice of the boy from my dream, “It’s time,” what seemed like a bolt of lightning shot from the sky and hit me, and what felt like a thousand kilowatts of electricity shot into me.
The dishes smashed into the floor, shattering into a thousand pieces in a jarring crash. I collapsed, my mouth open in a soundless scream that only I could hear. I wanted to thrash around, but I couldn’t, I couldn’t move any parts of my body. I couldn’t scream, I couldn’t call for help, all I could do was lay there, in more pain than I have ever been in in my entire life.
Ten minutes, fifteen minutes, twenty minutes…the time passed so slowly, and the pain didn’t even fade. All I could hope for was that my mother would come soon and take me to a hospital.
Somewhere, through the pain, I heard a door open, then close.
“Dayna!” my mother’s voice. Her footsteps hurried towards me.
“Damn…this wasn’t supposed to happen yet,” I vaguely heard her say. ‘What?’ I wanted to say, ‘What wasn’t supposed to happen?’
I heard my mother cross the kitchen floor, and rummage through a cupboard. I heard her walk back over to me. I felt the cold prick of something on my neck, and everything started to go black.
You…knew…? were my last thoughts as the darkness took me.
White. My eyes opened, and then started to squint. It was bright. I sat up on the bed I was laying down on and looked around. It was a plain room. Nothing to see. Just white walls. I was starting to get up when he suddenly appeared. The boy with the stormy eyes.
He smiled at me, the same smile from my dream, bright and mischievous, “Glad to know you survived that. Most humans aren’t capable of handling my power.”
Getting over my surprise rather quickly, I narrowed my eyes at him, “So it was because of you that I went through that hellish pain?”
Suddenly a door that I hadn’t noticed opened up. My mother walked through, wearing a black military outfit.
I looked for the boy, but he had vanished, so blinking hard, and wondering if I had gone slightly insane, I ran to her, gave her a hug, “Mom! Why am I here and why am I wearing these clothes?” The clothes I was wearing were black cargo pants and a light gray cadet’s shirt, which was not what I was wearing before. It’s, in a word, difficult to force me out of my casual jeans/shorts and t-shirt into any sort of formal wear, especially if the wear is a a) dress or b) military outfit.
My mother wouldn’t look me in the eye as she pushed me away. But, then she took a breath and looked at me, “First, you must address me as Sergeant Williams while you are here. And second, I am not your mother.”
Shock, “Wait, Mo—”
She interrupted me, “Sergeant Williams. Your real mother died a few months after you were born, saving some comrades under gunfire.”
I was speechless, so she guided me to the bed, and sat me down on it and looked down, “Now, why didn’t you tell me you were having dreams?”
She sighed in exasperation, “The dreams that you would’ve been having for the past few nights.”
I thought about the dreams of the stormy field…and the nameless boy, “You mean the dreams about the boy?”
She looked as though I had confirmed something vital, “Yes, those dreams. Why didn’t you tell me?”
Her straightforward attitude after announcing that she wasn’t who she had claimed to be for 15 years annoyed me, “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because there was really no point, seeing as how dreams that actually mean something only happen in books and movies?”
She sighed, “If only that were true.”
Mo— Sergeant Williams almost never sighed. “What do you mean?”
She looked up, but didn’t meet my eyes “The government organization I work for wants to recruit you. To train you, and have you help protect our country. Will you accept?”
So she masqueraded as my mom to get me into a job? “What if I don’t?”
“You never get to learn your past. You will not be allowed to make contact with anybody that you originally knew.”
I thought a little bit, and then, “If I accept, then I will protect Canada…and you will tell me about my real mother?”
“Well, then fine, I accept … Sergeant Williams.”
No going back now.