Kinetic World: Chapter 1

A morning in the life of Dasken.

I awoke in my room, shivering and shaking with sweat. Great, I thought to myself.

Another nightmare. I stretched out, standing up to my full height of six feet, and tugged on my awkwardly long arms. My legs hit the floor heavily, and I fluidly equipt my glasses. Rubbing the sleep out of my eyes, I looked around. I turned and opened the blinds to my bedroom window, the crisp morning chill outside sneaking in from below the glass, then changed from my pajamas into my usual set of day clothes; a dark cyan t-shirt, a pair of black sweatpants, and two non-matching colored wool socks. I proceeded to go into the bathroom right down the hall.

I checked myself out in the mirror; the hard work late into the previous night

and early this morning shined through in both my stature and underneath my eyes, the layers of purple-hued skin echoing from them borderline characteristic of me. I sluggishly nabbed the electric toothbrush from my side of the mirror-cabinet, layered on a decent amount of toothpaste, and went to work. The entire time, I criticized myself with extreme malice, as per usual.

Once I was done, I jogged back into my room, grabbed my flip-phone, and

shoved it it into my pocket. I practically hurled myself down the stairs, finally realizing I was behind on my schedule. My father was packing his own lunch of a frost-laced Hungry Man dinner and a few cans of Dr. Pepper while my sister was making four portable mugs of coffee - brewed to perfection, no doubt. I meandered into the kitchen, beginning to make myself a bowl of maple nut oatmeal. “Morning, Dask.” My father said with a smile. I reflected the happy gesture and added a brief wave, then proceeded to wait next to our microwave.

The chatting between my sister and dad in the kitchen was at a peak now;

they were giving each other crap, flinging disses at one another like a game of hot potato and were laughing hard. My dad was a really funny and caring guy, and had gotten me out of tons of difficult places in the past. My sister was always there for me, too, and should anybody mess with me, well… They’d better hope a size 12.5 boot didn’t fit too snugly in their a*s. I sighed as I grabbed my own finished mug of sugar and creamer with a side of coffee and a double chocolate protein bar from the cupboard. I thought about it for a second, then grabbed a second bar and made myself a baggie of Frosted Flakes, recognizing the familiar, slight pain in my stomach that usually accompanied me during days with growing pains. I rolled my eyes. Really looking forward to that, I muttered as I made my way back upstairs to grab my forgotten backpack. I did a triple-take around my room, making sure I had everything, and spotted my extra laptop. I noted the elegantly-designed logos I had made in my Graphic Design class a year or two ago, as well as the near-dusty, dull gray exterior. I imagined myself happily riding the bus while pounding away on the keys. It then fell on the ground and shattered, an array of glass shards and plastic chunks. I shook my head, the image giving me far too much stress, and set it down again gently.

My dad was first out the door, as always, and he needed to leave almost

immediately. I gave him a hug goodbye, followed by my sister. I yanked the school-issued tablet out of my backpack and worked on my book within the writing app for a few minutes. I managed to pound out five pages before my sister was done. My sister and I slid on our shoes, set to traverse into the cold Minnesota weather. All I needed to wear was a heavy sweatshirt, since I was a living heater - I rarely ever got cold - and hopped into the back of her Camaro.

The drive was another 15 minutes, and she asked me a couple times how my

book was going; I, being myself, described the story in detail to her. Upon the end of our conversation, I continued working on it throughout the remainder of the ride there. The uncomfortable silence began to infect my mind, and soon I hit writer’s block. I released a long, dramatic sigh, scratching the back of my head in high hopes to receive any decent idea for the story’s continuation; of course, merely scratching the back of my head while hoping wouldn’t be enough to strike me with some miraculous cure.

We finally reached the high school, my sister masterfully swinging into an

open parking spot. As I walked towards the building, an odd thought crossed my mind.

What if I died right now?

The question nearly knocked me off my feet, the tan-tinted slush catching my

foot and nearly tripping me. I instantly corrected myself, miniature anxiety attack taking hold of my body and mind. I soon calmed, however, and continued the walk to my first hour class, the question of death growing and pulsating with every negative thought. What if I killed myself right now? What if I hurt myself right now? What if I kill someone else right now? Does anybody care anymore? What am I worth, anyways?

The smell of wet earth and slight tar still filled my nose once I arrived at my class, my mind contorting my face into an oddly depressed frown, eyes hidden by the long hair growing over them. Then the topic of loved ones came up.

I thought about my immediate family, and how my parents loved me despite

being divorced. My sister cared for me deeply, as well, and so did my mom’s new date. I thought about how lucky I was to have a caring family, but the idea blurred itself out and over itself wrote negative connotations.

My friend, Ajuka, had been impatiently awaiting my arrival, and moments after I sat down, Ajuka was directly to my right. I immediately shoved my negative thoughts and worsening mood down, so as to not scare or upset him. Putting on an oddly convincing fake smile, I sighed under my breath. “How’re you doin’, man?” Ajuka asked. His face seemed concerned today, not merely in its usual wide-eyed and bushy-tailed demeanor.

I sighed again, recalling the other times he became concerned about me.

“Not much, man. How about with you?” I asked, plastering on that fake smile and confident stature.

“What’s new with me? This!” He bellowed, triumphantly holding a book in his extended right arm, suggesting I take a look at it. Grabbing the book gingerly and curiosity taking over upon receiving it. I looked at the title of the book. “Getting Over It! A Book for Those Who Are Depressed, Anxious, and More”. I held in a third sigh, slipping the book into my backpack. No way he would take this damn book back, I thought to myself furiously. My mind roiled with anger, just to the point when I realized I was both anxious and unwilling to do things.

Looks like today’s going to be one of those days, I mumbled to myself.

Soon after, the class began greeted by our favorite teacher, Mr. Rikter. He was extraordinarily nice and caring, and if anyone even thought of bullying in his class, then they’d be treated with three days’ detention at bare minimum; however, Mr. Rikter does enjoy pranking and messing with his students.

“Alright, class. Who decided to stay on the crapper for too long?” He called

out to the class. There was a steady laugh, and it grew when a kid who I didn’t know ran into the classroom, practically dragging their stuff. “What a shame. I sure hope you didn’t soil yourself, Eddy.” Rikter teased. Another round of laughter ensued because of this, even from Eddie. We all knew it was in good fun, and it was the highlight of our day whenever Rikter would give a student s**t for being late to class, with an assignment, or even just for fun.

“Today, we’ll be learning a bit more advanced algebra. Open your textbooks to

page 239, if you will…” I zoned out soon after the lesson began, upset that the joking was completed for the day. I sketched a little bit in my notebook, such as patterns or weird monsters I had invented. I then wrote out a couple of notes so I could remind myself to fix sections in my story that I noticed needed fixing. I glanced up occasionally, writing down anything I thought I might need for this class on a separate sheet of notebook paper, then upon receiving the homework, proceeded to do all of it in just under ten minutes. I proceeded to set it off to the side, continuing to create sketches. Math was my best subject, so it didn’t worry me too terribly much that I barely paid any attention to the lesson. If the need be, I would just read a quick section from the textbook or an article online.

The class ended sooner than I expected. Must be early dismissal today, I

thought. The idea of having to go to yet another class with yet more unknown people exhausted me to no end. The bell rang, Ajuka and I parting ways from the only class we shared at the time.

I was now the only one by my side; I didn’t even have lunch with my friends. I

shook my head, reminding myself how my loneliness then remained pertinent to my everyday life, in school or outside of it. Walking down the hallways, I hung my head as I typically did, gently placing the speakers on my earbuds into my ears. I noted how the brick was laid, the slightly off pattern to the marbles’ placement that could only be created by a human’s hand. I looked up, feeling slightly calmer from focusing on something else entirely, and braced myself for the hell I would have to endure for the rest of the day.

Author's Note

Yet again, the italics don't seem to be coming through for thoughts...

Reviews

[Ace St. Jean]

Interesting open, more slowed down than the prologue, but still maintaining a similar pace. Well done!

The foreshadowing at the end is great.