Profiles

Profile: Darren

“I tried out my racist humour the other day,” Darren informs me mid-rally of our table tennis game. His remark causes me to hit a forehand that goes flying off the table. I wait for him to continue, he smiles. “Yeah, with Steve, my new black friend. I asked him whether golliwogs ever have any luck in love or if Ken just gets all the action.” He pauses, trying to suss out whether or not I understand the reference. He shrugs, “It was funny at the time,” and goes off in search of the ball.

I realise that Darren’s wearing ‘the t-shirt’ and chastise him for it. “Geez you’re a bit slow today Dale – your mum noticed when I walked in!” It was the exact same shirt that was once my favourite, but it shrunk in the wash and I mourned its loss, so Darren decided to go out and buy one of his own. He does things like that, but then again he also does things like buy me a two-hundred dollar bracelet for my birthday. I saw him quickly glance at my bare wrist when I opened the front door this afternoon. He didn’t comment though, just stood there grinning, hands in the pockets of his black shorts. “Hey.”

We sit down on beanbags and play PS2. The game – general knowledge Buzz. A question about George Orwell’s 1984 baffles me, but he answers correctly. “I think I’m gonna make it my mission to culture you,” he says slash gloats. He offers to lend me 1984 and then suggests we go to the theatre and see Priscilla: Queen of the Desert the stage show. I laugh, he looks at me with one eyebrow raised, his head slightly tilted to the side, and smiling with his entire face.

I take Darren for a walk around my neighbourhood. “I drive too much. Sometimes I just get in my car and drive – I ended up at work instead of uni once.”

We come to a forest of sorts. “A fork in the road…” he remarks as we’re confronted with two separate paths. During our foray into the woods I told him all the things that were happening in my life in a way that I didn’t tell anyone else; I was brutally honest. He listened and chimed in with things that would always make me smile or laugh, and make me take myself less seriously. He also said some things that I needed to hear. He laughed when I called him my moral centre.

“Car was broken into again last night,” he mentions out of the blue. I ask if there was any damage. “Only emotional,” was his response, his eyes downcast. His mood reminded me of his turbulent emotional state of late – I didn’t hear from him for a week until one night he called me and apologised and explained a little of what was going through his head; how he wasn’t happy with certain things about himself and his life.

“I’ve got three assignments due in the next two weeks,” he sighs. “I’ll get them done but it won’t be easy.” He always manages to get them done. We talk some more about uni and the future, moving out of home, his career, and whether we’ll know each other when we’re forty.

We go round the bend and take a right into my street. “Think I might start writing again at the end of this semester,” he says as we ascend the gradual incline to my house. “Just blogs though, not stories. I can’t do stories.” I begin to object before realising that most of the stories Darren writes are dark.

“Good to see you again,” Darren says, slouching, hands in pockets, awkward eye contact. I echo his thoughts and watch as he walks down my driveway and drives off in his bomby blue car.

Profile: Brittany

“Yeah, I know dude, I have big boobs,” Brittany says before taking even half a step out of the changing cubicle. “So what do you think?” She’s referring to the black cocktail dress with silver accents that she’s trying on. I nod and make reassuring noises. “Ugh, guys are hopeless at shopping.” She teases and retreats into the cubicle once again. I sigh with relief. She talks to me while she’s changing – in that perky voice that always seems to carry across the room – about people from work. I switch to making agreeable noises.

“Don’t you reckon this bag is just so me? I was with mates and they saw it and they were like, ‘You have to get that bag Brit!’” I inspect her colourful, eclectic-patterned bag and agree whole-heartedly. We walk past a department store and Brittany stops, looking at one of the plasmas hanging from the ceiling, “Oh my god I love this song,” she grins and literally drags me in with her.

We sit on opposing couches at the Coffee Club and she laughs at my milkshake while sipping her chocolate frappe. She seems to have been smiling and bright this whole time. We talk of a McDonalds awards night after-party a few days previous. “You drove a couple of carloads of people home didn’t you? Yeah sometimes I’ll take three or four carloads of people home; I just want to make sure they get there safe, you know?”

I thank her for covering two of my shifts over the last week. “No worries dude, I needed the money anyway – got a parking ticket the other day which sucks. Plus I’m always saving up for my trip.” She tells me how she plans to travel around Europe and North America at the end of 2008 – for three years. “After that I’ll come home and hopefully get married and have kids. I love kids,” she beams.

“I don’t speak to my parents much,” she responds when I ask what they think of the travel plans; her smile vanishing for the first time. “I dunno what happened – we used to be really close.”

Absent-mindedly she fiddles with the piercing just above her lip on the right side of her mouth. “Come here,” she says, and motions to the place next to her on her couch. Hesitantly, I obey. “I give the best massages,” she declares and goes to work on my shoulders, back and neck. Her touch was extremely relaxing.

I utter a “Thanks Brittany,” managing to surface briefly from my stupor.

“Dude call me Brit. Only the parentals call me Brittany.”

Reluctantly I told her to end the massage before I fell asleep, and I went and bought us ice creams. We sat looking out towards the Dandenong’s and she began to open up to me. It was as though I was now massaging her mind, in some kind of strange role reversal. She told me how she practically had to raise her younger brother by herself, because her parents separated. How, despite that, she doggedly finished year twelve – a feat which neither or her older siblings achieved. “It was something that I had to do for me,” she affirmed. Then she spoke of her tumultuous relationship with her boyfriend of one year. “My friends think we’re destined to be together, that we’re still in love. Please don’t tell me you believe in all that fate stuff. I don’t, I think it’s crap.”

We consume our ice cream and are about to part ways when she says, “I don’t ever tell anyone these things…” and then hugs me. Her smile returns as we disentangle.

A SECOND CHANCE

(revised piece)

Panting lightly she reached the top. She put a hand to her forehead to shield her eyes from the sun and surveyed her surroundings. In every direction the horizon stretched further than she could see. A hopeful smile came to life on her face. The land, although foreign, was indescribably beautiful. Outstretching her arms to the sky she span around and around, stopping only when dizziness began to take hold.

A gust of wind blew through her hair as she fell to her knees, and with her eyes closed she cherished the remarkable sensation; the cool grass and gentle breeze, combined with the momentary loss of equilibrium. ‘I’m not going to take my new life for granted,’ she thought. The past was the past, there was no way of changing it. Now she could live how she wanted; create her own life, her own future. She collapsed onto her back and blades of grass tickled her skin. Bathed in sunlight she slept; dreaming of walls crashing down around her.

It was cold when she awoke. Clouds had clustered about the sky, and the sun had just begun its gradual decent. She shivered and got to her feet with memories of body heat.

It had been many years since she’d been alone. Although she missed companionship its absence was liberating. It was just her and the world. She could think, act and live for herself. And maybe it meant that she’d somehow broken the curse… She banished the thought from her mind.

‘What now?’ she thought. Food, water, shelter, her head responded. She descended the hill and set out towards a leafy forest, and the faint sound of rushing water.

As she entered the forest she tripped and grazed her knee. She picked herself up quickly. The pain was nothing to her, but the sight of her blood brought back memories of her sons. A thought immediately sprung to her mind, ‘I need a weapon…’ The beauty of this place had distracted her; she was a fool to be so casual. She hurriedly searched her surroundings for anything that remotely resembled a weapon. To her disbelief, the forest afforded nothing of the sort. Not even a sharp stick that she could use as a spear. Was this place so beautiful that there was neither violence nor pain? Despondent, and now wary, she continued to make her way towards the sound of water.

Trekking on through the forest she passed several trees and bushes she’d never seen before. She marveled but wondered, ‘Where are the animals?’ The forest was eerily still. There were no birds, or even ants, as far as she could tell. The only sounds were the water and her careful footsteps through the thickening undergrowth.

It was considerably darker now, and every so often she’d furtively glance from side to side. The trees seemed to lean towards each other and create a kind of light-filtering canopy far above her head. She began to quicken her pace; the sound of the water was steadily increasing in volume. She needed to get there.

But before long she stopped. And crouched. A rock; sheer on two sides so that the edge was sharp like a blade. She put it in her knapsack and continued on.

The forest didn’t thin out at all, she was suddenly standing on a stony bank of the river. Water rushed by and to her left she saw the source of the guiding sound; a waterfall. It looked like a sheet of crystal cascading down from the heavens. She took a few steps forward and felt the cooling effect of the water as it flowed around her ankles. She advanced further so that the water was at her hips, and looked down at her feet. There was a time when she’d stood in a river similar to this for days – the icy water had penetrated her skin and chilled her bones – but it was all in vain. Penance.

Remembering her thirst, she cupped her hands and brought the clear water to her mouth. It tasted so pure that she began to feel she was sullying the river just by standing in it. She began to swim across to the other side. She couldn’t be sure but she thought she heard the snap of a stick from the bank behind her, but she was too busy fighting the current to look back. Whether she’d imagined it or not she felt safer once she was all the way across.

The other side of the river was a mirror image of the one from which she’d come; she walked up the bank and straight into dense forest. Drops of water trickled down her as she stopped and turned to face the river again. ‘Behind me?’ she thought. ‘How could that be?’ To the eye, the forest seemed as empty as before, with the occasional ray of sunlight shining through the overgrowth. But something told her that it wasn’t as empty as it seemed. Her hand drifted over the rock in her knapsack. She momentarily doubted how wise it had been to leave, but then her heart ached at the memory of her cursed life, the agonising pain.

Resolute, she turned her back to the river. Before setting off again she spotted a tree bearing a peculiar type of fruit. Reaching up she picked off three and put them in her knapsack for later.

She didn’t really know where she was going, or when she’d stop, she just kept walking because she could. Suddenly, she noticed that the trees were thinning out; the forest was coming to an end. Before her was a clearing, but there was an incline preventing her from presumably looking down into a valley. Although she didn’t have trees as cover, the light was fading slowly, so she boldly walked up the incline and peered down across the clearing. What she saw brought tears to her eyes. ‘Why?’ she uttered in despair.

“I thought you’d like it,” said a voice from behind her. She froze where she was. The voice was familiar.

She felt a hand on her shoulder. A strong hand. A man’s hand. Adam’s hand.

The garden below them was just like the first. They could start again.

It would start again.

Chapter 7 – Ring of Destruction

Brant and Cindy sat down at the breakfast table and Cindy helped herself to some Corn Flakes that Michelle had left out for her. “You sure you don’t want any?” Cindy asked politely.

“No thanks, I’ve already eaten,” Brant replied. “So how are you Cindy? You must be under a lot of stress at the moment. It must be really hard for you with your mum and everything else that’s been happening,” said Brant.

“I don’t really want to talk about that right now,” Cindy disclosed. Reminded of her mum again she hesitated, she didn’t feel very hungry anymore.

“Where are Callie, Chelley and Amy?” Brant inquired.

“Michelle and Amy are looking for Callie,” she responded, “She didn’t come back from her run this morning.”

“Oh,” a look of alarm crossed his face.

Cindy pushed her bowl forward and said, “Tell me all about this, Brant. About all these powers and what we use them for… and who killed my mum,” Cindy asked with a brave face.

Brant changed his position in his seat as if he were uneasy about telling her, “Here’s the explanation,” he announced. “This whole ordeal is about a statue, but not just any statue, a statue that has powers. It’s called the Mentoh and anyone who touches it gains those powers, but the thing is there’s a Protector. Now, this generation’s Protector is an evil one and he does everything he can to stop people who come near the statue from leaving.” He told her.

“How come I have powers then?” Cindy queried.

“Because your dad, Evan, touched the statue and if anyone who touches the statue has children, they inherit those powers.” Brant explained.

“And that’s how my dad died,” Cindy gathered. “From the Protector.”

“Yes, like all the other three girls’ fathers, but that’s not all. The current Protector is working with an evil corporation called Hartono Enterprises. And instead of using the powers of the statue for good, Hartono Enterprises have been using it for evil. I think they’re planning on using it to take over the government, then go even further. But they can’t do that.”

“Why not?” Cindy asked. This whole thing seemed a bit farfetched, but she continued to listen anyway.

“To fully master the statue they need this,” Brant pulled, what looked like a paperweight, out of his pocket and placed it on the table. Noticing her skepticism he told her, “The statue rests on it.” He went on, “We have your father to thank for this, the Protector forgot to take it with him after he killed your...”

Cindy rose to her feet, knocking over her chair in an angry rage, “So you sent my dad just so you could get that? You knew he would die, didn’t you? How could you do that? Do you have a heart or a just a cold hearted bastard!?” she shouted at him.

“Cindy, you’ve gotta think about how many lives he’s saved by doing that. All we need to do is get the statue then destroy it so no more evil can be done,” Brant defended himself.

“It’s still not good enough!” Now that Cindy knew the truth about her father, she was somewhat disappointed. She didn’t expect him to be involved in this stupid statue business… “How are we meant to destroy this statue anyway, if it has magic powers and all?” Cindy started pacing back and forth.

“With this,” Brant said, reaching into his pocket again.

“Great, what is it? Another paperweight? How many people died trying to get that?” she snapped.

“Cindy calm down. I want you to have this.” What he pulled out of his pocket this time was a stunning gold ring, with an opal embedded on the top. “But you can’t tell the others about it, understand? Keep it a secret from them.”

“Why me?” Cindy asked curiously, she reached out her hand. She couldn’t take her eyes off it; it was as if she were attracted to it.

“It’s the way it’s meant to be Cindy…” Brant said as he placed it in her outstretched palm.

Michelle and Amy burst through the door, surprising Cindy and Brant. Cindy enclosed the ring tightly in her hand so they couldn’t see it. “Brant! I’m so glad you’re here,” Michelle panted, they’d obviously been running. “We found this note,” she handed him a piece of paper with messy writing scribbled on it, “Callie’s been kidnapped!” she cried out in dismay.

Chapter 6 – Brant

“Following you? What do you mean?” Callie questioned, “Are you sure?” Callie was obviously taken aback by this, her authority seemed to desert her for a second, leaving Cindy feeling awkward.

“I saw him at the market the other day and I remembered him from somewhere then. So he must have been watching me for quite a while for me to recognise him,” Cindy told everyone. She tucked some of her blonde hair behind her ears; she wasn’t sure how they would react to this.

“Okay then,” sighed Callie. Callie started staring out the window, concentrating on something, but Cindy wasn’t sure exactly what. Michelle and Amy didn’t seem to think it was odd, but Cindy thought she was crazy.

“He won’t be back for a while, but we better put someone on sentry duty incase he comes back tonight,” Callie told everyone, starting to rub her head.

“But how can you be sure?” Cindy asked, Callie seemed so sure of herself Cindy nearly regretted asking the question.

“Her power, Cindy,” Michelle explained. “We’ll tell you all about it in the morning. For now we’ll get some food into you then you can have a good rest, it looks like you need it,” she advised as she was walking over to Callie.

“Are you okay, Callie?” she’d obviously noticed that she was in pain.

“Yeah I’m fine,” Callie answered still rubbing her head, “My head’s starting to hurt every time I use my power, that’s all. It’s no big deal.”

“I’ll get you something for it,” Amy insisted, then walked down the hall into the bathroom.

“I’ll do some sentry duty,” Cindy offered, she felt like she needed to help out somehow. These girls had just taken her in and accepted her as family, where would she be without them? It would most likely be dead, or with the police, charged with murder. She owed these girls a lot, but she wasn’t sure what she was expected to do, or even why they’d taken her in.

“No Cindy, not tonight, maybe some other time. There’s some pasta in the fridge, you can heat it up in the microwave,” Callie said, retiring to the couch in front of the TV.

Cindy wasn’t really that hungry, and she only prodded at her pasta carbonara. It wasn’t very long before she announced that she was going to go to bed.

Before she went Amy came up to her and apologised, “I’m sorry I acted the way I did before, it was stupid of me, I was being so selfish.”

“No, no, it’s okay. I owe you, I owe all of you a lot, and I’m really grateful for everything,” Cindy responded. “Goodnight,” she uttered.

“Goodnight,” Amy replied, and embraced Cindy in a warm, friendly hug.

Cindy smiled and walked into the spare bedroom; acceptance was great. She hadn’t been accepted by people her own age for quite a long time, not even her fellow baseball teammates, and now she had some idea of why that was so. It was because she was different. She was special. She smiled contently.

She wasn’t bad looking; in fact she was quite attractive. She looked in the mirror at her curly blonde hair, green eyes, smooth skin, and a well-defined face. She smiled again; things were starting to go her way.

She slipped under the covers of an unfamiliar bed, in an unfamiliar room of an unfamiliar house. All Cindy had was herself, and the friendship of these three girls who she would grow closer and closer to during the coming events. “I wonder what powers I will get,” Cindy whispered to herself as she lay in the dark.

Cindy had a restless sleep, tossing and turning in bed. The past day’s happenings were too big for her to just forget and the noise of rain on the roof didn’t help either. But her night’s sleep wasn’t completely uneventful. She had an interesting dream she planned to discuss with the others. She walked into the living room and found Amy lying asleep by the window. Cindy shook her shoulder and Amy groaned, half opened her eyes then yawned. Suddenly she pretended to be alert, “I must have fallen asleep a few minutes ago,” she lied.

“You wouldn’t have fallen asleep on sentry duty would you now?” Cindy joked.

“Not me!” Amy played along with her. “Please don’t tell Callie,” Amy requested, on a more serious note.

“I won’t,” Cindy promised. “I had an interesting dream I wanna tell you about.”

“Interesting?”

“Yeah.”

Michelle walked into the room wearing a yellow jacket and well fitted grey jeans, “Where’s Callie? She wasn’t in her room when I woke up.”

“Oh, she probably went for a jog earlier this morning,” Amy suggested, standing up and stretching her arms and legs.

“And she hasn’t come back yet?” Michelle questioned.

“Well I sorta fell asleep,” Amy admitted regretfully.

“Amy! This is not good,” Michelle said frowning.

“Where could she be?” Cindy asked. Callie’s disappearance would obviously affect the group.

“Don’t worry about that, Amy and I will go look for her, she can’t be far. You stay here and get some breakfast,” Michelle instructed.

“Why can’t I come?” Cindy asked, feeling hurt.

“The police are looking for you, remember? You’re safer in the house,” Michelle reminded her.

“Alright, good luck then,” Cindy wished of them.

“Thanks Cindy, you can tell me about your dream when we get back. See ya,” Amy said cheerfully.

Michelle and Amy left the house in search of Callie, which meant Cindy was left on her own. That awful feeling of loneliness, how she hated it. She wondered what had happened to Callie. Had she been kidnapped? How would Michelle and Amy react to it if she had been?

She walked into her new bedroom and fished her mum’s brown wallet out of her backpack. Inside it there was a picture of Cindy and her mum at the beach when Cindy was about four. She took it out and held it close to her, it was all she had left, apart from her memories. She was about to put it back when she noticed there was another picture behind it. One of her dad? Yes it looked like him. Why hadn’t she seen this picture before?

Knock knock! All of a sudden there were two knocks at the door, and Cindy dropped the pictures on the floor. Who could it be? She walked out to the living room again and curiosity got the better of her because she peered out the window, slightly pulling back the curtain to see who it was. There was a man standing there, he looked like he was in his late thirties.

He called out, “Is anyone home?”

Cindy didn’t know what to do. He called out again, “Anyone? It’s Brant, open up.”

It was Brant! The man from Cindy’s vision! She walked over to the door and took a deep breath then opened it. “Hello Brant,” she greeted him.

He looked shocked, “Hey Cindy, err, nice to meet you. Can I come in?” He stuttered.

Chapter 5 – The Suspicious Man

Cindy collapsed onto a nearby couch and started to cry; somehow more tears started streaming out of her eyes. She needed to let all of her sadness, grief, anger and disbelief come out from deep inside of her. “Please let this be a dream!” she moaned, “And let me wake up from it now!” she begged herself desperately.

“Cindy, it’ll be okay,” Michelle reassured her while clasping her hand.

“We need you to be strong now,” Callie said softly, “We’re gonna help you get through this.”

Cindy hung her head low and looked at the floorboards, she hadn’t yet heard Amy talk. Amy was the youngest, and about her age. Now she heard an unfamiliar voice, it was her, “Cindy,” Amy said. Cindy looked up at her through teary eyes, she noticed Amy also had tears running down her cheeks, “You’re not the only one, it happened to all of us too.” With that she ran out of the room and Cindy heard a door slam shut somewhere down the hall.

Michelle went to get up and go after her but Callie said, “Leave her Chelley, we have to explain things to Cindy first.” Callie had some power over Michelle because she sat back down again.

“Right, okay, where do we start?” Michelle asked, distracted. Obviously her loyalties lay with Amy, Cindy could tell Michelle would rather be comforting Amy than her.

Callie turned the TV off, then walked back to Cindy’s side. Trying to lighten things up she said, “Come on Cindy, we all made it through and by the looks of things you’re a strong girl, you’ll be just fine.”

“I just want things to go back to the way they were,” Cindy explained, “Whoever you are, you don’t need my help.”

“You don’t know that, and besides, you need ours,” said Michelle, “Call me Chelley, by the way.” Michelle smiled one of her fantastic smiles and Cindy felt a little better.

“Brant will explain more to you tomorrow, but until then…”

“Who’s Brant?” Cindy questioned; Brant sounded like a name she should remember.

“He’s like our leader,” Michelle contributed.

It looked like Callie was about to tell her something important, and she was, “Cindy, look me in the eyes,” she said. Cindy did as she was told but found she couldn’t stop looking at the blue part of Callie's left eye, was this meant to happen? The pitter-patter of the rain on the roof became louder, and suddenly it was all she could hear. She was struck by a vision, and she saw Callie as a young girl running away, fleeing from a house, and a man jumping out at her from behind a tree… It stopped, and she could hear Callie again. “I know you’ve already noticed our eyes…” she was saying, “What is it?” Callie asked noticing that Cindy wasn’t listening to her.

“Was that Brant?” Cindy questioned.

“What are you talking about?” Callie said bewildered.

“In my vision…”

“You had a vision?” Michelle’s eyes opened up wide.

“The rain became really loud and I couldn’t hear anything except for it, then all of a sudden I saw you,” Cindy said, pointing to Callie. “I saw you running away from something, then a man in dark clothes jumped out at you from behind a tree and grabbed you by the shoulders.”

“Cindy, that was amazing! That was Brant, and the first time I met him, after my mum was…” she stopped herself from saying anymore.

“I can’t believe it,” Michelle said in awe.

“I know, a vision already! She probably doesn’t even know about her powers,” Callie added.

“As I was saying, our eyes are like this because we’ve discovered our power, or powers in my case,” Callie explained.

“Callie stop,” Amy suddenly appeared and she was standing in the living room doorway, “There’s a man that keeps driving past in a black car and he’s been looking at our house every time he goes by. There he is again.”

Cindy looked out the window with the others. “A threat, Callie?” Michelle asked with a worried look on her face.

“Possibly Chelley, maybe we should get Brant,” Callie said with some concern.

Cindy interrupted them, “I know him,” she put forth. “I mean, I’ve seen him before.”

“Where?” her newfound friends asked in unison.

“I think he’s been following me,” announced Cindy. She shivered at the thought.

Chapter 4 – Mr. Hartono

“Why hasn’t anyone reported back to me?” An Asian man wearing an expensive business suit demanded. “What’s taking them so long?!” He leant back in his black leather chair and stared at his assistant impatiently.

“Sir, I’m sure they’ll be back any minute now, and you won’t have to worry about the girl any more,” a nervous man in his late twenties reassured his impatient boss.

“I hope you’re right, Rye. I’ve had enough of this, damn my foolish ancestors!”

The phone rang and Rye quickly picked it up, grateful to be relieved from that awkward conversation. “It’s them Mr. Hartono,” he informed. His boss nodded. Rye continued to listen carefully and rolled his eyes at what he was told.

“What is it? What have they done?” Rye’s boss questioned him.

“They killed the mother, but the girl got away,” Rye reported.

Mr. Hartono slammed his fist down on his desk, “Imbeciles! Tell them to report to me immediately!” he instructed.

Rye said something into the receiver and then hung up the phone, “They don’t know where she went, it was like she disappeared.”

“I’ll let them explain it to me, Rye. If those three retched girls have found her…” He tried to calm himself by closing his eyes. “Is there any news on the statue?”

“I’ll go and check now sir,” he answered and headed towards the door of Mr. Hartono’s office.

“Good. I need some time on my own,” Mr. Hartono murmured as Rye was leaving the room.

*

He awoke to the sound of Rye’s voice on the intercom, “Have a good rest sir? Hope you’ve calmed down, they’re here.”

“Send them in,” Mr. Hartono instructed.

Two men, tall and lean (one slightly shorter than the other) wearing dark glasses, black suits, black ties, and blank expressions on their faces walked in to address Mr. Hartono.

“Please sit down.” Mr. Hartono paused, and then sighed. “Professionals hey? Do you want to be more obvious? You look like the Blues Brothers for heaven’s sake! What happened to fitting in?” he sneered.

The smaller one responded, “That was not a problem, sir.”

“Well obviously the girl was! Explain!” Mr. Hartono demanded, becoming flushed.

“Well, we watched her walk into the house and waited for ten minutes before we went in and killed her mother,” the smaller assassin replied again. “We searched the house but she was gone.”

Mr. Hartono sipped at a glass of water. As he placed it back on his desk, he commanded the two to take off their dark glasses, and then looked both of them straight in the eyes. “Gone? How could this be? You said you watched her go into the house, did she just disappear?”

“It looked as if she somehow managed to escape while we killed her mum because she took some things with her,” the tall assassin answered in a deep, husky voice.

“She froze time then?”

“Sir,” they were becoming uncomfortable and started to loosen their ties, “We don’t know.”

“Tell me something you do know,” said Mr. Hartono, leaning back on his chair.

The tall one smiled, “We framed her.”

“Huh?” Mr. Hartono sat forward again.

“We framed her for her mother’s murder,” the smaller assassin proudly announced.

“Leave now.” Mr. Hartono sighed, he wasn’t impressed. Why couldn’t he get any decent staff? Staff that correspond with him before doing something.

“We thought it was the best thing to do,” the tall assassin proclaimed.

“Did you not hear me? I said leave!” Demanded Mr. Hartono. He was very frustrated.

The two got up and left the office feeling unsure of themselves, and rightly so.

A few minutes after they’d left Rye walked into the room, “Not a good meeting, Mr. Hartono?” he assumed.

“It could work to our advantage I suppose…” he was distant.

“Um, I’ve got some news from the Protector,” Rye proclaimed. “It might cheer you up.”

“Go on.” He sighed again.

“He says that he has some big news for you and that he wants to meet you tomorrow afternoon, usual place,” Rye told him.

“Wonder what he wants,” Mr. Hartono retorted. “Rye, you can go home now, we’ve both had a big day.”

“Thanks sir,” Rye looked as if a huge amount of weight had just been lifted off his shoulders. “One more thing, Mr. Hartono, sir, he’s going to bring the statue.”

“Excellent,” Mr. Hartono responded, “The plan can commence then.”

When he’d left Mr. Hartono swiveled his chair around to face the window. “Brant, Brant, Brant. When will you give up? You’ll have to when I get hold of the statue tomorrow.” He laughed cheerfully out loud.

Chapter 3 – Framed

Cindy started running but she had absolutely no idea about where she could go, she didn't have any friends she could really trust, and all her relatives lived interstate.

She was very fit because she played baseball, and trained every night except for Tuesdays, Thursdays and Sundays. Today was Tuesday and she was supposed to do a job interview. But with the police and her mum’s assassins looking for her, she didn't know if she could go anywhere or tell anyone about this. If the police knew where she was then the people who were after her would find out as well. She knew it.

Her mobile phone rang and she went to answer it, but stopped. She didn't feel like talking to anyone right now. Later she realised it was actually a good thing she hadn't answered it, and immediately turned it off.

This would explain the phone calls they got at home. The phone would ring and then be dead when they picked it up. Whoever it was, probably the assassins, were checking if they were home, and every time Cindy and her mum pressed 69 to retrieve the number the computerized voice said, "The last person who called had a private number, they called on the…"

Cindy burst into tears, and sat down beside the road, the weight of what had just happened was starting to sink in. Did it just happen? Was she going crazy? It seemed that the heavens were upset too because they opened up and rain came pouring down. "What have I done?” she whimpered. “I wished my life would be more interesting, but I didn't want this!" She reached into her pocket and pulled out a tissue. “Why does everyone close to me always die? First dad, then Fluffy, and now mum." Thinking about Fluffy, her cat, she hunched over. The pain was unbearable. Fluffy had been hit by a car and then run over by another. She remembered how she felt that day. Betrayed by Fluffy but also forgiving of her, everyone makes mistakes she had told herself. Thinking of her dad, who she had only just met, for the first and last time, she longed to be with him, to play with him. What was it he said? Mum would visit later? She'd make sure she treasured her visit instead of wasting it like her dad's.

She couldn't stand this; she couldn't let this happen to her. She had to fight against these people, but how could she do it on her own? Dad said she had powers, but she hadn't even figured out how to use them, she didn’t even know if she believed him. Something had to go her way today, just something.

She got up and bravely walked along the footpath in the pouring rain, away from a life of misery and into a new one of hope. But as she came to a huge oak tree she was confronted by three girls a little older than she was.

"Cindy," one of them said, "Come with us."

"How do you know my name?" she asked dumbfounded, her hair dripping water onto her face.

"Quickly we don't have much time, we know about what happened to your mum."

With that she stood there in awe, she couldn't not do what they wanted, these girls knew, but how?

The three girls took Cindy into an old weatherboard house situated a long way back from the road. A tall wooden fence concealed most of the house from the street, but from inside you could still see out to a fraction of the road. The outside of the house was greatly misleading for the inside was very well furnished and surprisingly spacious. One of the girls dried Cindy up and tried to remove the blood from her clothes but some of it wouldn't come off, "You'll have to borrow some of Michelle's clothes, she's about your size, we'll have to get rid of these though." The eldest girl proclaimed.

"No way! You're not getting rid of my clothes!" Cindy protested. "I don't even know who you are."

"Cindy, you'll just have to trust us, it's not like you have anywhere else to go." Cindy knew this girl was right, something told her that she won most of her arguments. She had an elegance and authority about her that made Cindy uncomfortable. Looking more closely at her she had short black hair and was taller than the other two girls who were busy doing something somewhere else. She wore some faded jeans and a white long-sleeved top. Her eyes were a hazel colour but half of her left eye was deep blue.

"Sorry Cindy, you must be wondering who we are," said one of the other girls walking in to the room. "My name's Michelle, that's Callie," she introduced, pointing to the girl that was cleaning her up, "And our other friend's name is Amy." Michelle was the shortest of the three but was more tanned and had long brown hair. She had a skinny body and wore bright clothes. Cindy noticed that she had a great smile, and cheerful eyes, but one half of her left eye was green, unlike her right and the other half of her left eye, which were brown.

Cindy wasn't sure what she was meant to say, except to ask about why she was there. “We'll explain why we took you here soon, but for now we'll have to finish cleaning you up," Callie said as if reading her mind.

"Okay," Cindy replied casually.

After getting changed in a spare bedroom Cindy came out to join the others. They were gathered around the television and Cindy could hear a news reporter, "I knew it," Michelle said, disgusted.

"This'll just make things worse," Callie added.

"What's going on?" Cindy asked. The three girls moved out of the way of the TV so Cindy could see. There was a picture of her in the top right-hand corner of the screen.

"Cindy, you've been framed. The police think you killed your mum."

Chapter 2 - Wishing

"Hi, would you mind doing some surveys for my school?" Cindy asked politely, holding the survey sheet up for him to see.

"Nah," an uninterested man rejected.

"It'll only take a minute..." she tried to add, but he'd already walked off with a wry smile on his face. "Well thanks a lot," Cindy said staring after him. For some reason she thought he looked familiar.

She was on a school excursion to the Queen Victoria Market, and she had to survey at least ten people about it. So far no one had agreed to do them. She tried her best to look friendly and innocent, but she was fifteen and felt like she was staring to lose those talents.

"Screw this," Cindy said, found a seat and made all of them up.

*

"How was school Cind?" Cindy's mum asked predictably when she got home.

"We went on the excursion today," Cindy replied, while taking off her school blazer.

"Really? What excursion?" Her mum queried, forgetting what Cindy had told her that morning before school.

"I told you this morning, the one to the market," Cindy said impatiently.

"Oh how did...?" Cindy cut her off.

"It was good," she lied, anticipating the question. "Is there anything to eat?"

"You know that was the first thing your father said when he used to get home," her mum suddenly got lost in her memories.

Cindy sighed, So she remembers that, she thought to herself. "I know, you've told me," Cindy reminded her mum, while looking through the cupboard.

“There are some blueberry muffins in the oven, and they’ll be done in about fifteen minutes,” her mum stated.

"Okay, I’ll have some later. I'll be in my room if you want me." Cindy informed, shoving her hands deep into her pockets.

"Okay Hun," the phone rang as she left the kitchen and Cindy's mum went over to answer it but as soon as she’d picked it up it went dead. “Who keeps doing that?” Cindy heard her mum say as she was walking up to her room.

In her room Cindy had posters all over her walls. Mainly ones of Limp Bizkit and Puddle of Mudd, she didn't like pop groups like a lot of other girls. She turned on her favourite CD.

She lay down on her bed and thought about her unsuccessful day. "Why didn't anyone want to do my surveys?" she asked herself. She wasn't shy or very intimidating, but then again she didn't have many friends.

She closed her eyes and imagined that she was somewhere else. A place where she fitted in, a place where everyone understood her…"I wish there could be some excitement in my life," she sighed. "I wish I knew what happened to my dad," those words came out of her mouth with such longing and such desire that anyone who heard Cindy would console her straight away, but no one was there to hear. Tears formed in her eyes and she started to sob. She buried her face into her pillow, muffling her cries of sadness.

"Aahhhh!" her mum screamed from the kitchen. Cindy jerked her head up from her soggy pillow and jumped up off her bed. Then she heard a gun shot.

"Mum!" she cried and headed for the door, but something held her back, and time suddenly stopped; only she could still move around. “What’s going on?” she looked out the window and saw that cars were motionless and birds were frozen in mid-air. Her CD player had stopped as well. She remembered her mum and headed for the door.

"Cindy," a caring male voice called to her, "Cindy, over here."

She stopped in her tracks and turned around. At the window, where Cindy had just been, there was a man, but he was hard to see. "Who are you? What are you? You killed my mum!" she accused helplessly.

"No I didn't," the man said. "Why would I do that? I’m her husband, Cindy, and your father."

"My father’s dead!" she screamed at him.

"Not quite. I was only allowed to visit once from the afterworld." He gave her some time to take this in.

"The afterworld?" she questioned.

"Yes, that's where you go before heaven, after you die."

"Daddy?" it was as if she were a little girl again.

"Yes Cindy."

"What happened?" Her dad walked over to her and reached out his hand, Cindy reached out hers as well, but they passed right through each other.

"There's no time for that now darling, you’ll find out in due time. Your mum's just been murdered, and now is your chance to escape. They've come for you Cindy, because you're special. You have powers because you're my daughter," her dad explained.

"Powers? Me?" Surely that wasn’t true.

"Yes, get out of here now," he instructed.

"I wanna stay daddy."

"Go now, your mum will visit you later, I love you." He shimmered and disappeared just as quickly as he had arrived.

Reluctantly, Cindy got her backpack, went downstairs and took her mums wallet, some food and her mobile phone. She struggled to walk past her mum's body on the way out of her house, but she managed to bend down, stroke her hair and hold her hand, then kiss her on the forehead, accidentally getting blood all over her clothes. She walked past the two assassins, who were also still frozen, and fled out the front door.

"Mentoh" - my longest story (and post number 100)

Chapter 1 - The Watcher

As he walked into the room Evan knew someone was watching him, he knew he wasn’t alone. He could feel their fierce, ever watchful eyes watching over him, just as they could feel his restless presence. Suddenly a spine tingling shiver ran down his back, a shiver that nearly made him turn back and leave, a shiver that made him want to pretend he’d never agreed to do this. But he knew he couldn't do that, he'd come too far and worked too hard.

He peered into the ominous darkness of the bedroom, trying to determine where his Watcher was hiding. He decided to take a risk and turn on his torch. He had been in a fair share of fights before and was still pretty fit, so he turned the torch on and braced himself, but no one lunged out at him from the shadows. He was thankful for that.

Evan realised that the room was much larger than he had originally thought, and it was barely furnished. It had an eerie feeling about it, with the off white walls, shadowy corners covered in cobwebs, and dust everywhere he shone his torch, it was not unlike the rest of the house in appearance, but was somehow different to it in some other mysterious way.

He took a few steps forward into the darkness and thought to himself, "Who else knows about the Mentoh anyway? No one could live here." He prayed that were true and the man Brant had told him about was just a myth. He took a few more cautious steps forward to look for places to make a quick exit. He found only a window and when he tried to open it, it was stuck. "Damn!" he said aloud and immediately regretted it. He listened for a sound, but there wasn’t one to be heard. With his heart beating quickly he turned away from the window and something brushed against the side of his face, "Jesus!" he cursed, and hurriedly shone his torch towards it. It was just an attic cord. He'd look up there later.

He shone his torch towards the window again and something in the corner of the room caught his eye. In the corner of the room there was an old dressing table, but it wasn’t the dressing table he was interested in, it was the statue sitting on top of it. It looked unusual and seemed out of place in a room like this. The statue was of an elephant standing up on its hind legs with a strange hat on its head. It was made of bronze and was probably the only thing in the room not covered in dust. Was this what he was looking for? Brant hadn't been clear about what the Mentoh looked like. All he had said was, "When you pick it up, you'll know if it’s the Mentoh you’re holding," and then walked off leaving Evan standing where he was, confused. One thing Brant had been clear about was how well rewarded Evan would be if he could bring it back.

Curious, he walked over to the dressing table and steadied himself against it; he was breathing heavily, tired from his task. He wiped some sweat off his forehead then reached forward and clasped the statue with his right hand. “Wow!” All of a sudden he felt a magnificent power rushing into him and steadily growing inside of him. He'd never experienced anything so extraordinary in his life. It felt so good that he nearly fell over, overcome by dizziness. He was brought back from his trance by a loud crash, and immediately he regained his senses. He'd knocked a small paperweight off the dressing table. What was it Brant had said about something that looked like a paperweight? He kicked it under the dressing table. Evan had found what he was sent to search for and now all he had to do was bring it back to Brant, so he shoved the statue into his backpack and turned in the direction of the door. He smiled and thought of his wife. She was the only reason he'd done this. They needed the money desperately, and with their baby only a few weeks away...

He pushed those thoughts back to where they came from and triumphantly walked over to the door, his concentration was slipping. When he was halfway to the door his torch went off, leaving him in total darkness. "Damn batteries," he said in frustration, he became scared once more, the darkness was overwhelming.

CRASH! Suddenly there was another crash, but this one was different because he heard feet landing heavily behind him. He turned around but he couldn’t see anything, he was just feeling around in the dark; he might as well have been blind. He tried running but he bumped into something. Evan was as scared as a tiny mouse running away from a hungry cat. A huge arm grabbed him and before he knew it there was a knife pressed against his neck. He realised this must have been his Watcher, and he must have come from the attic. How had he been so careless?

"Give me the statue," his captor whispered hastily in his ear.

Evan started thrashing around; "No I need it!" he was desperate. Brant had warned him about this Watcher, but he hadn’t taken him seriously and now look where he was, in the last few moments of his life.

"Give it to me!" whoever his Watcher was, he was impatient.

"My wife…" he said desperately. Those two words were his last; the knife slit his neck. Evan felt more than blood slowly trickling out of him; he felt his life trickling out entwined with it.

"Sorry," his killer whispered just before Evan died, and there was sympathy in his voice.

Now that the Mentoh was safe he could rest. He'd been up for days because of this man, watching him walk past each day, until finally he came in tonight. He’d watched him all through the house, thinking that if he didn't find the Mentoh he wouldn't have to kill him. But he had had to. Anyone who touched the Mentoh gained special powers that lived on through their children if they died. "He better not have any kids," he said quietly to himself. He didn't like killing people but it was his job to protect the Mentoh, he was the Protector. Not that he chose to be.