Later that night, Jason wandered the dark foyer. He wove through the stone columns of the room, stepping around the large wooden crates and boxes that his parents had brought home from Iceland. In the dark, the quiet, he could think and relax... or at least try...but tonight, his thoughts were dark too.
All day, his head had been pounding, starting that morning with the arrival of his parents. The hustle and bustle, the loud voices talking, the friends of the family visiting, the long dinner... he was overwhelmed. Now, the house had finally gone silent, but the ringing in his head continued. Trying to unwind, he began sifting aimlessly through the artifacts that his parents had brought home.
To his right, one of the crates had been opened already. Jason picked up a clay plate, which had a scene of children playing etched into it. He carefully blew some dust off it and turned it in the dim light. The children were chasing a dog, yelling and grinning. Putting the plate down, Jason picked up another item from the top of the box. This was a flat circle of rock with intricate patterns carved into its surface. The stone was dark black, like obsidian. From the shape, Jason guessed it had been a talisman of sorts. It felt cold in his hands. Suddenly, he heard the sound of footsteps. Jason froze in the shadows as a figure came down the stairs.
It was Claurice, of course. She had on a pair of tight leather pants, a top that covered about as much skin as a bra would, and a thin, transparent wrap around her shoulders. Her hair was gelled into spikes and swirls, and her normally beautiful face was marred by dark makeup. Jason stepped out of the shadows, and Claurice spun around, startled.
"What are you doing here?" She snarled.
"I do live here, you know," Jason said, facing her with what he hoped was a neutral look on his face. Claurice just glared.
"Well, mind your own business," she said.
"Where are you going?" Jason asked, moving towards her. She slid her hands up on her hips and sneered at him.
"Mind... your... own... business," she repeated, annunciating each word as though she thought he might be mentally deficient. She turned to go, but Jason reached out and grabbed her wrist.
"You can't keep doing this," he insisted, a worried look crossing his face. "You're going to get hurt."
Claurice turned to stare at him, but where for an instant there was surprise, anger quickly rose into her eyes. Suddenly, Jason felt her other first slam into his face. He stumbled backwards, releasing her wrist and falling to the floor. He winced and squinted at Claurice, who was standing over him.
"Listen, bro, if I need advice from you--which I don't--I'll ask." She growled. "Now why don't you run off to bed like a good little boy and stick to wasting your own life." With that, Claurice quickly walked away. Jason lay on the floor and listened to the soft pat of her platform shoes across the stone floor until they faded behind the click of a door.
He stayed down on the floor bringing up an arm to cradle his head, which was pounding. His eyesight was slightly blurred too. There, on the cold, hard floor, Jason suddenly lost the will to get up. He curled up, bringing his other arm and the talisman into his chest.
I can't do this anymore... He thought, closing his eyes and pressing the cold talisman to his throbbing head. Just let this be over... just let it stop... I wish this life wasn't mine anymore. Someone else can have it... I can't live this life anymore.
As he thought that, something amazing happened. The talisman in his hand suddenly turned ice cold, frosting over, and exploded into bright white light. The light enveloped him, and Jason felt it searing into his eyes. He thought his head was going to explode, as a tearing pain ripped through it. He felt like he was spinning and falling, the light whipping him around, before he lost consciousness and felt no more.
Background from Absolute Background Textures Archive. Storyline and characters created by and copyright © Rachel "Indyana" Gratis, 2001-2004. Dragon from Veniam Mactare.