Day 9: May 4th's Story

You know I never really know what to title a piece until I finish it. I always feel like the title is a bit of a ribbon or a thread that ties a story so close together that to remove it takes a deep part of the package away. It's exactly like the bow on a Christmas present. It catches your eye, it's shiny, but it's not the present. It's not the thing that you're really after. Without it, the Christmas present falls flat. It's just not the same. It's paper surrounding a box. Or in the case of a story, colors surrounding letters.



"Dude, you did not see an angel."

"I'm telling you, he came to me in a dream last night." John said as he walked with Jean to class.

"And I am telling you. You did not see an angel. You're starting to scare me a little bit."

"He told me that I'm going to become the best writer of this century."

"You? The best writer of the century? What was the last book you read besides your textbooks for class?"

"Um..."

"You do at least read the stuff we're being tested on, right?"

"Look, I don't have anything to worry about. God has a plan for me and I'm going to be the best writer there is."

"That's ... great John, but... maybe you should have a plan B in case the angel you saw had more of bovine than of divine about them."

"Huh?"

Jean rolled her eyes, "What I mean is, it might've been a bad dream brought on from bad food. The advice you get in a dream isn't based on reality."

"You'll see. I have a path to follow now."

[------------------------------]

 A small ping comes in over Jean's computer. An instant message pops up and she turns to the conversation.

JohnDoeIsDead: hey you there?

xXxCaliGirlxXx: Yeah, what's up?

JohnDoeIsDead: i wrote a story, wanna read it?

Jean rolled her eyes and sighed.

xXxCaliGirlxXx: Is it a completed story?

JohnDoeIsDead: lol... well, not yet... but it's got a really cool concept and I wrote like the first paragraph, wanna see?

xXxCaliGirlxXx: John, you wrote like a hundred first paragraphs, and I read all of them. Maybe you should take some time to finish a story first and then you can focus on writing the first paragraph well.

JohnDoeIsDead: fine I'll finish this story in like a day and then you'll read it?

xXxCaliGirlxXx: Sure John. I'll read it if you finish.

JohnDoeIsDead: sweet ttyl

[------------------------------]

"So what are you gonna study in college, Jean?"

"I don't know yet. I was thinking English Literature. I love reading and ... " Jean shrugged her shoulders. "I dunno I just really enjoy it."

"Well, as you may have guessed, I'm going down the Creative Writing track. Yeap, I pretty much can't fail."

"Does it make you happy?"

"I'll be happy when I'm published as a famous author."

"... Ok." Jean looked at him sternly. "Don't you think that perhaps you should just... enjoy the work?"

"It's my destiny. Destiny isn't always nice or pretty. It's destiny! It's something I gotta do."

"The angel dream again?"

"It's the second time in like three months. It's gotta be a sign."

[------------------------------]

Jean's room lay wrapped in darkness. It was littered with artifacts from an ancient time when Jean was younger than a teenager. She didn't have time for things like bean filled animals or plastic crowns or little figurines that tried to play into her early development of maternal instincts.  She was almost in college now. She would tuck those things away forever and not see them again. She was going to be an adult now. She had no time for childish things. 

The darkness didn't keep her awake, she didn't have fear of it. Late at night, even after all her studies were over she would read. And pass out with less than four hours before school the next day. She lay asleep, going to bed early for once. Until a faint tapping sound was thrown from her window. Getting up slowly she looked outside.

"John?" she whispered to herself. He waved to her, to try and signal her to open the door. She was hesitant, then walked to her closet where she grabbed something to put on, checking herself out in the mirror before quietly making her way down the long hallway, down the stairs, and to the back door.

"John, what are you doing here?"

"Hey hey, listen. I need to ask you something."

"What is it John?" She looked concerned to him. He was smiling and putting a hand behind his head, the other remained tucked away in his back pocket. He was shaking a little.

"Do you... I mean, OK this is a dumb question."

"John, it's three AM. Make with the words, or I'm going back to bed."

"You don't want to be a writer, right?"

"Uh... where did that come from?"

"No where, I... I'm just curious." He was squeezing his hand which had made it's way to a pocket. He stared her in the eye. "Its' important."

"I.. honestly don't know. Maybe one day? I don't have a set plan yet, but I want to explore what I like."

John sighed and turned his face away from her. "Thank God." She looked perplexed and then noticed a glint of light bouncing off of something in his back pocket.

"John, what is that?"

"Um.." He moved his hand in an awkward way, trying to hid it.

"Is that a knife? John, what the fuck is that for?"

"I... Look, I had a dream..."

"Oh fuck the dreams John."

"...What?"

"John, I'm tried of hearing about the angels and the dreams and stuff. You're not any more special than anyone else on the planet. You are one person in the whole world and you can't let something as crazy as dreams tell you what to do for the rest of your life. I don't know what I'm gonna do, but no angel is gonna tell me to do something I don't enjoy."

"I..."

"John, I'm not saying you shouldn't write, I'm saying you should think about what you enjoy and pursue that."

"Jean.  You have to promise me you won't try to be a writer."

"Or what John? Did the angels tell you to stab me if I didn't? I'm not making that promise. Not to you, not to any damn angels. The only reason you're even still standing there without the police on your tail is because we're friends. Now get the fuck out of here."

"Jean, wait."

"What? What John?"

"... You're right." John extended out his empty hands and stretched his arms out. "I... I just don't know what I'm doing."

"... John. ... We all don't really know. But you might need serious help."

"I... I'm so ...." John put his hands over his face. Jean took a tentative step forward, then another. John had tears in his eyes. "I'm so sorry, Jean." She moved in to him and they hugged together.

At first, there was just a cold feeling. The suddenness of it made Jean gasp. Then it was warmth pouring out of her, the pain came on after that. It was a dull throb that got louder and louder. She started feel her legs giving out under her. "What... did you..." Before she could realize it, his hand was moving fast for her throat. She moved her arm up, but couldn't make it in time. She just wanted to run away. Call for help. She lay on the ground bleeding out. Her body was shaking and darkness was overtaking her vision. She thought, I'll just get up. I'll just get up and run. Then I'll be ok. I'll just run. 

"I'm so sorry Jean... But, you're not standing in the way of my destiny." He wiped his knife off on her clothes and stood up to walk away. "It's my destiny... they told me you had to die. It's my destiny."