Love of the Loveless | Teen Ink

Love of the Loveless

December 30, 2013
By LittleKid1985 SILVER, Watford, North Dakota
LittleKid1985 SILVER, Watford, North Dakota
8 articles 12 photos 10 comments

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Accept people for who they are, gender, race, sexual orientation it doesn't matter, we all walk different paths with different goals and interests.


Light streams through the forest canopy in the early morning sun. Still lying on the ground, I stare up at the watery blue sky wondering what to do now. Dirt stained and having slept in the woods all night, my body aches and something inside of me screams that this is all wrong. I should run and yet I don’t know why or where to run too.
I wish I could just lay here forever, in the warm morning sun. Let my atoms soak up the warmth for just a while longer. Instead, I sit up slowly, brush off some of the dirt not clinging to my body like lint, and stand. My legs are wobbly not used to being cramped as they were, and groan and moan like a real corpse. At least my head has healed, floor injuries not induced by the Overlord will heal faster than vampire skin.
Skin and bone, I trek through the forest the better part of the morning, searching for the faulty line that brought me here in the first place. I find it, on the edge of river. Shimmering slightly, a spidery web, caught in the suns light arrays. I step into it, letting my atoms and fibers and the bits of the universe that make up the Poltergeist that is me, dissolve into fine particles that beg to be released.
It only takes a matter of seconds, before I find myself outside the house, I climb up the side and wrench the window open, before ducking inside. Leah and Jack turn to look at me from their perches on the bed. Both open mouthed, it is Jack who speaks first.
“Where have you been?” He asks, while Leah regards me like I’m bigfoot.
“Woods.” I say. Jack and Leah exchange glances. Apparently I’ve been a topic of speculation. The mysterious flight of Shaft Thirteen after the girl he obviously likes kisses him.
“Um did you sleep in the woods too?” Leah asks.
“Yeah. Always wanted to go camping. Fresh air and all that.” I say. “I’m going to go take a shower.” I grab a pair of clean clothes from a random box of Jack’s and head to the bathroom downstairs, away from the confused thoughts of the girl I love and the boy who sees more than he should. But he’ll never guess my secret, not even I know how far deep I’m in. Maybe too far deep like a sink hole, one that keeps on going.
Once in the bathroom I strip my clothes, I’m bleeding again from a couple of cuts on my shoulder blades but nothing to permanent and nothing that will leave any evidence on my borrowed clothes. Turning on the water, I wait for it to turn hot, than decide better of it and flip the switch to cold.
Cold water pours like a rainfall over my body, soaking into my skin, numbing the cuts and stemming the slight flow of blood from the sores on my feet and upper arms. Like I said nothing drastic, just too much walking and way too much exposure to the elements of the woods.
But that’s not important. Sleeping in the woods is nothing new for me, I’ve done it twice before, once when I ran away from home and the second time when my father threw me out for the night.
What’s more important is Leah and her brother. I love them both, one as a brother and the other I’m in love with. They mean most to me, my duo, the only family I really have and I’m the most dangerous to them. Dangerous, because of my unknown slowly revealed past. I could hurt Leah, even though the thought disgusts me, I could. And Jack I could make him disappear, I knew how to make Beatle disappear just takes time for the negative effects to start trickling down until it’s a landslide. Negative effects are like a morphine withdrawal to those who get hooked, Ghost’s need to be seen for them to stay as Gaurds, need to people to keep sane, without me Jack would disappear, if I didn’t love him like a brother. Brotherly love extends to Overly Protective in terms of both Leah and Jack and I would never hurt them, or would I?
That is the question.
Being a Poltergeist I have an awful temper, one that hasn’t reared its head in years, tampered down quite a bit by my father, he’s the reason for the rage. Maybe I inherited it from him and his sour genes, probably the only thing I ever inherited from him. I think I remember what he looks like, black hair, so unlike my blond, brown eyes, sour downcast expression, looking at everyone-including strangers- like we have already disappointed him. I just have a nasty temper if left unchecked could be a ticking time bomb.
So what’s the answer to the Leah-Jack problem?
I’m a defective Poltergeist that’s for sure, one thing the three of us can’t deny. Temper like a gunshot sure to wound more than kill but could do the latter. So the only answer is to stay away from the both but with nowhere to go, home is out, the Kingdom has exiled me, and Heaven doesn’t need me at this moment either. So I’ll move into the empty room down the hall, Leah’s parents won’t mind, they don’t even know I exist. As for the brother sister combo, I’ll lie to them as easy as if it were the truth.

Successful at getting what I want, I move into the empty room down the hall. Leah and Jack didn’t question me much and I only had to offer them very little lies to appease their minds. Hopefully they don’t ask me why again, because I can’t remember what I said. The room is roughly the size of Leah’s perhaps a little bit more claustrophobic with the boxes of Jack’s stuff piled everywhere. Boxes marked hastily with sharpie marker starting to fade.

In my kingdom of dusty cardboard boxes, I am king.
And my castle is rarely disturbed except for the mornings when Jack needs a new change of clothes, and I only leave my kingdom to use the shower downstairs when Leah’s parents aren’t home. My entertainment is Leah’s pink laptop and books I found buried in boxes that were hidden in the closet behind another one of Jack’ old mattresses and pillows and blankets. That is what I sleep on, hidden in the corner by boxes that are scattered this way and that. I read Sherlock Holmes and watch Sherlock on Netflix and struggle through the nights when sleep is impossible. Dark memories seep from my guarded volt like fog that doesn’t quite disappear.
Discarding sleep most nights, this is when I let my Magic free of the prison I had kept in all these years. Creating tiny fires that never burn, and mini tornadoes that ruffle papers and the curtains, my telekinesis even finds ways to be free, levitating books and boxes and papers I was even brave enough to steal a fork from the kitchen to watch it hover a few inches above my hand.
Totally being a creep (least I can admit it) I listen to Leah’s thoughts, she is confused and worried about me, and I understand that but it wouldn’t be good for her if she was with me. Not when there’s something wrong with me that even I can’t explain. It wouldn’t be right when I can’t give her a stable relationship, with everything that’s been going on in the last few weeks, its better if I keep my distance. It’s been two weeks since Leah kissed me and I ran off, and I’m starting to get used to the isolation again, it amazes me just how easy it is to settle back into it. It is not surprising when I’ve only been free for a few months versus the ninety six years of not saying a word.
I could do this, I really could, if I wasn’t in love.

I’m up late one night, reading by the dim light provided by my Magic and the full moon, when there’s a soft knock on the door.
“Come in.” I call softly. Leah, in her nightgown and sweatpants wanders in slowly. Spying me on the floor she smiles sheepishly. I sit up, and dog ear my already dog eared page.
“Couldn’t sleep either?” She asks, sitting down next to me. I shake my head. Surprised by her warmth, read her emotions just for something to go on. She is both worried and confused, still knowing that I had kissed her back. I had wanted to kiss her for a longer time than that, so why had I freaked out?
“Why can’t you sleep?” I ask. She bites her lip, deciding.
“I’m worried about you, Shaft.” She says, I wish I could tell her not to be worried, but sometimes I worry about myself, it’s good to know someone else does too. I wonder if that makes me crazier.
“I’m fine, Leah,” I say. “I promise.”
“Then why are you sleeping in here?” She quizzes. Maybe it’s the isolation, or the words that I have been thinking since I met her, either way the words tumble out of my mouth with little resistance. “Because, I don’t belong with you or Jack. There is something wrong with me Leah! I’m a Poltergeist living in a house for ninety years because I’m a freak!” I practically yell. Her face pales.
“You’re not a freak, Shaft.” She says. “Why would you think that?”
I can’t stop the words from tumbling from my mouth. “Because I love you, and I can’t love you because something is wrong with me! ”I croak. She looks at me for a second, like she doesn’t even know what to say. Like she finally understands how messed up her best friend actually is. Does that even bother me?“And I want to be with you, I do, but I kissed you and everything inside of me screamed no, and I don’t know why.”
Leah swallows. “Then why don’t we try? And whatever is wrong, we’ll figure it out, together?” She asks. I nod. Despite my instance of being fine by myself, I need someone, being lonely isn’t suiting me exactly. I thought I could handle it, but it’s not exactly easy when she’s the only person besides Jack that I have. She winds her hand through mine, “Does this bother you?’ I shake my head.
“No, it doesn’t.” I murmur softly. Leah yawns.
“Mind if I stay here with you tonight?” She asks.
“Yeah sure, please do.” I say. “Won’t Jack mind?” Leah chuckles.
“You’re not like the boys’ he’s worried about. I have more of chance corrupting you, than you corrupting me. “ She says.
“How would I corrupt you?” I ask. Leah grins.
“Never mind. “ She leans her head against me shoulder. Her hair smells like strawberries. “Can I tell you something?”
“Sure.”
“When I first met you,” She says slowly choosing her words carefully, “I liked you.”
“Really?” I ask. She nods.
“Well after I got over the fact that you’re a Poltergeist. But I liked how honest you were, you have this innocence about you, like even though the world was horrible to you, it didn’t matter because you still believed in Magic. That even though you’ve been trapped in a house for ninety six years and no one saw you, you never got even with the world. I don’t think I could have done that.” I smile at her instances of my bravery if only she knew just how scared I really am.

With the end of summer rapidly approaching, like the cul-de-sac at the end of a road, Leah gets new clothes, mainly from the shops on line, throwing out the black clothes she wore for the last five months, she sheds them like a snake sheds its skin, without a second glance. She isn’t suicidal anymore, and her emotions no longer flood my thoughts like tsunami waves but my own do, and it’s all I can do not to drown. Still I try to be happy for Leah, thrilled she won’t be going to Watford City High School, the Ghost’s downstairs will keep her home schooled, wouldn’t want to have to burden a bus with the out of town drive. This suits Leah just fine, just like our relationship. I still sleep in the other room, and she still sneaks into my room most nights to keep me company until we both fall asleep.
We haven’t kissed since that first night, and memories keep flooding my mind, just fuzzy pictures, and the best I can tell from piecing the broken fragments is that it has something to do with my father. My father who haunts my dreams like the plague, who wakes me up almost every night with his laugh and my scream wakes Leah who whispers calming things to me.
The only thing she can do, because my demon only fights me. Bites me and finds new ways to poison my heart when it is already dead.
“Shh, it’s okay Shaft,” It was just a dream.” Leah murmurs one night after a particularly nasty dream involving my father once again in a drunk rage. Shaking and sweating, I listen to Leah’s soft soothing tones.
I’m grateful for the darkness. Tears glide down my cheeks and my breathing comes in little hiccups. If Leah knows I’m crying, she doesn’t say a word doesn’t question my manhood. We sit up for a long time, until my breathing becomes calmer, until all I can hear is Leah’s soft voice. She shouldn’t have to do this night after night. And even when she says she doesn’t mind, that it doesn’t bother her, she can’t hide the physical evidence of sleepless nights. Bruises are starting to form under her eyes, fixed there so they make her blue eyes even darker.
“I’m okay now,” I whisper in the darkness. She nods and we both lay back down the cool mattress raising Goosebumps on me should be departed flesh. Covering us both back up, Leah nestles into my side she fits perfectly. Her warmth spreads through my body, shifting me further into falling asleep. Comfortable enough she slips into my mind and even unconscious, we both keep watch for the fog that clouds my brain just before he appears.

Early the next morning, Jack tiptoes into the room. Frowning when he finds Leah and I curled up on the floor on my borrowed mattress.
“Well this isn’t weird at all!” He says sarcastically. “My little sister curled up against her boyfriend who isn’t wearing a shirt.” Boyfriend? Does he not miss anything? Well Leah’s hand is still curled up in mine and I am without a shirt. Ditched it sometime this morning, it lays in a wrinkled heap near the foot of my bed. Leah wakes and glares one beady eye at her brother.
“Leave us alone.” She grumbles, but sits up and rubs her eyes. “What time is it?” She asks.
“Nine thirty.”
“It’s that late!” She yelps.
“What’s wrong?” I ask bewildered.
“Your therapy appointment is a ten right?” Jack asks frowning.
“You have therapy?” I ask. Maybe I should have paid more attention to details of her life post rehab. I was just a tad bit more worried about being crazy, of course she would have therapy. You just don’t try to commit suicide and not get therapy once released from rehab. Unless your me and the only time you try to die, you succeed and no one bothers to question your sanity after the fact.
“Yes, and mom isn’t here it takes at least an hour and a half to get there!” My brain slowly realizing everything finally comes into focus.
“I can take you.” I say. Both of them of them stare at me. “G.R.S? It’s a lot faster than a car and you can do it because you’re exactly like I am. Go get dressed.” I command not liking how the words are sharp leaving my tongue.

While I wait for Leah to get dressed I pick through boxes of Jack’s to find a shirt. He watches me with curiosity, wondering why I have kept my distance, if I love his sister. I don’t really get it either, being that I shouldn’t be able to fall in love with a human because I’m not supposed to have a human side at all. I was supposed to lose that, but I never did, and I think it might have something to do with why I can feel pain. Why I can love Leah but be trapped by memories that happened a very long time ago.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” He asks suddenly. I stop ruffling through the box and look at him.
“Yeah. It’s my fault she has to go anyway. If I told her earlier that you were alive, she wouldn’t have done what she did.” I say. He frowns.
“It’s not your fault, you couldn’t have told her I was around, and she wouldn’t have been able to see me.” I shake my head.
“She would have if I had told her. So it makes it my fault she almost died.” Jack still shakes his head.
“She wouldn’t have been suicidal if I hadn’t died. It’s my fault she wouldn’t be like you either if it hadn’t been for me.” Jack says.
“Well at least she’s semi alive. “ I say. “But don’t tell her I said that. How would this look on me?” I hold up a light pink shirt. He nods.
“Looks good, but guys don’t wear pink.” I sigh. I want to ask him then why is it in your box? But I think better of it. Instead I say, “In the Overworld/Otherworld we do not care about such things as long as you aren’t a cannibal, it doesn’t matter what you wear, look like, or how you act. The things you humans think of to hinder each other is comical.” I wiggle into the shirt just as Leah comes back into the room. Her clothes differ from the black that I’m used to seeing her in. A silvery button down shirt and designer jeans adorn her small frame and her black flip flops with her blue and black painted toenails show off her pale feet, her hair is tied into a simple ponytail with her bangs tucked behind her ears. She looks beautiful. And I can’t form the words to tell her that so I say a bit harsher than I mean too, “You ready?” She nods.
“Be careful you two.” Jack says, worried.
“We’ll be fine, I’m with Shaft there’s nothing to worry about. “ Leah says, her confidence in me is stunning.
“Shaft you should probably wear Leah’s sunglasses, your eyes.” Jack says, he finds them sitting on one of the boxes. He hand them to me and I put them on making everything a tint darker.
“You know where to go?” I ask Leah nods. Taking her hand I wave to Jack with my other one. “See ya in a bit!” I say just before I dissolve. Our atoms twist and turn with each other and it takes extreme concentration to keep from dissolving completely. I wonder if this is what it’s like to travel through the internet being compressed and pulled this way and that.
Finally we reach the Clinic. A small building about the size of Barrett’s Pharmacy back in Watford City. Brown exterior made of solid brick, it doesn’t look exactly cozy.
“Are you okay?” I ask as Leah materializes next to me. She gives me a look.
“That was horrible!”
“Well if it makes a difference, you are still incredibly beautiful.” I say grinning. She kisses my cheek.
“Oops. Does that bother you?” She asks. I shake my head. It doesn’t bother me that much, it just feels weird. Not that I’ll ever admit that to Leah. Walking hand and hand I only let go of her hand to open the door.
The interior is nothing like the exterior, warm on the inside the walls are painted a light blue, kind of like the sky on a cloudless day. The mahogany floor bears many scratches from years of being walked on. The furniture, dark brown leather chairs that look like they can support you or isn’t comfortable enough to sit in, sit along the walls. Leah leads me in to the front desk where the secretary types away on her computer. She looks up and I’m nearly stunned. She’s pretty way to pretty to be human. Dark brown hair, perfectly styled frames her face, her face, pale almost like the blood was drained from her. And her eyes! Gold in color not the traditional red, than again contacts can’t hide everything.
“Um I have a ten O’clock appointment with Doctor Rosenthal.” Leah says nervously. She senses something wrong about the secretary, but doesn’t know she’s a vampire. I don’t even have to read Leah’s mind, her increasing grip on my hand tells me everything. The vampire takes one look at me and smirks. Under Magical Law we cannot do anything to each other, she can’t drink me dry, and I can’t set her on fire. Works wonderfully considering we’re in a place where humans can easily hear us if she’s one of the Rogue Ones and tries to have a go at Leah and I.
Relax, I’m one of the good guys, Rosenthal would be dead already if I wasn’t. She says mentally to me. To Leah, unaware of anything that was just said, the vampire secretary smiles her fangs barely hidden, and says in a sing songy voice, “He’s waiting for you, dear.” She looks at me her eyes flashing. “You can go have a seat Isaac.” Leah glances at me inquiring. Asking if I know this women. I nod.
Vampire, I mouth. Leah’s eyes widen. There’s nothing to be afraid of, she’s one of us. Leah nods reading the thoughts in my mind.
“I’ll be back in an hour will you be okay here?” She asks.
“Yeah I’ll be fine. Just going to go sit over here.” I motion to one of the chairs. I kiss her on the cheek and go and sit down. The chair is definitely uncomfortable.

An hour in a room with a vampire that ignores me, I read through magazine articles, stare out the window watch the cars go by each having their own destination. I should have brought a book to read or something to do, my hands are itching to draw something. I should have brought one of my drawing pads. The mysterious glitch of the system. My only way of staying sane for the past ninety six years. I shouldn’t be this agitated nor this bored, I guess being out in the mortal world triggers this spark of unusual desire to wander through Williston. Or maybe it’s the people and their often too changeable minds or the weather that can’t make up its mind on whether to be cloudy, rainy, or sunny, or maybe it’s just me.
I watch the secretary, she definitely isn’t a Rogue One.
The Rogue deviate from our norms, preferring to kill humans and animals just for the sake of killing, the fun of the game, nothing else. The Rogue are many in number you can’t be too sure if the vampire or werewolf you are next to is wearing a make where underneath there lies an insatiable need to rip your throat out. But like the vampire said, Rosenthal a pure imperfect human, would already be dead if she was indeed Rogue. Many murders are committed a day due to the Rogue and those cases are always dubbed by humans to be unknown, the murderer
Still, what an odd think for a vampire to do, work in the mortal world, with humans and all sorts of enticement to bring out the thirst. Then again maybe that’s the thrill, playing Russian Roulette where the gun is your thirst and the only thing that would be harmed in the game is a simple human life.
I don’t think I could do it, be a bloodsucker but I never thought myself a type to be a Poltergeist neither.
A half hour passes, and then an hour before Leah walks out. Her emotions reveal not a thing nor does her mind.
“Ready?” I ask politely.
“Yeah,” She whispers glancing at the vampire. Never seeing one before, I’m sure she believes the Hollywood version of what a vampire should be.
“I think you need a lesson in vampire history, my dear.” The vampire says boredly not even looking up from her computer. “Your next appointment is next week Wednesday.” She adds and Leah and I take that as our cue to leave.
Once again opening the door, I lead Leah out into the bright sunlight of the mid -morning.
“Come on, I’ll explain the Otherworld to you and vampirism,” I say cheerily. “Got to walk around a bit anyway, lost the portal back to Watford.” I wind my hand through hers, as we walk down the less than crowded sidewalk. Like cockroaches to light, the hot sun makes humans scatter to the safety of an air conditioner. Just as fine by me, less chance of breaking the Magic Laws anyhow.
“So they don’t burn in the sun?” Leah asks.
“They used too, evolution changed a lot over the years.”
“Fangs?”
“Yep, drink human blood too.” I say as we walk, the portal has to be somewhere around here we must of traveled with a half faulty line, or one that was recalled because of too little usage.
“So do vampires and werewolves fight each other?” Leah asks eagerly.
“They used too, constant battles fights breaking out all the time over the simplest things. Gaurdian’s tried to stake the vampires, the vampires tried to make fin soup out of the mermaids and the fairies went strike, and the vampires tried to drink the Gaurdian’s blood. Sometime around the fourteen hundreds the Origins held a Council Meeting and made it law that we had to get along or be forced out. There are those who go against the Society we call them the Rogue and they tend to kill anyone and everyone they meet just for the sake of the killing. We also call them the Powerlords, they kill for power and find a loophole through every Magical Law anyone has ever come up with it.”
“Like what?” Leah asked intrigued.
“Well the First Magical Law states that if one Magical Group gets into a fight with another, the individuals involved get a death sentence and or exile. The Powerlords found a loophole with this law, they can do what they please to the person they captured as long as the victim is incapable of fighting back. Sedation, torture, threats, using your power against you, making it think your its enemy. “
The afternoon finds us still in Williston and Leah doesn’t seem to mind, as we walk down the streets hand and hand trying to find something that doesn’t as it seems, want to be found. As we walk I continue to talk explaining the vampires and my adopted family and how when I was with Samael Coaler, I felt as if I were normal. I explain how he became my mentor and my saving grace, for many years, and how I chose to forget him because it hurt too much. I tell her about the mermaids who used to babysit me on nights when Sam needed to feed and how they taught me their prominent history.
I reminisce over the nights I spent with Sam’s brother, Kellen. How he and his wife taught me that love doesn’t care if you are two different people, it doesn’t matter. And when we finally find the portal I still haven’t run out of memories, and these are so good that they hurt. And that is why I remember them.
Leah’s parents have no clue that Leah was in Williston with her teenage Poltergeist boyfriend, they have no clue she even has a boyfriend let alone her first kiss, at least this is what Jack tells me from haunting his parents all day. He shouldn’t, and I should tell him not too, but he misses them and who am I to chastise him, when I did the same to my own parents. Though mine was mainly to yell at them and make the air drop like the temperatures in Alaska in the house. Which they took the cold air as a sign the house was trying to tell them it was old and in need of repair. My parents didn’t believe in Ghost’s I doubt they believed in something as beautiful as Heaven even though in church they looked up to our Heavenly Father and swore up and down they were in His Good Book. I was Catholic as a human never went to church after Beatle died, crazies can’t go to church, is what my father told my mother when she wanted to take me a few times.
Find by me, on those Sundays, I hung out with all the Ghosts who swore they knew Jesus. I had more fun listening them talk about Sundays up in Heaven than I did sitting in church trying not to pay attention to the Ghost who whispered in my ear all sermon long.
I tell Leah this as I get dressed for the night wearing my sweats and a white t-shirt. My Hospital bracelet hangs limply around my thinning wrist though it never slips off and never appears dirty, I think there’s some sort of charm to keep it this way. Leah faces the window, waiting for me to tell her it’s okay.
“You can look now,” I say. Leah turns to face me and I’m struck just by how beautiful she is, inside and out her Magic radiates throughout the room. In the moonlight she could be a pixie or one of the fairies. All she needs is the wings. Her Magic still borrows mine, but somehow, it’s softer and more colorful than it was before. Light and airy. Different hues. Pinks and Purple and shades of blue different frequencies. The colors are beautiful just like her. Because they are her.
“What?” Leah asks curiously, I’ve never looked at her like this before. “Is something wrong?”
“Do you know how beautiful you are?” I ask.
“Are you feeling okay?” Leah asks, slightly worried now. Wondering if she should get Jack.
“I feel fine.” I say frowning. “I just haven’t seen anyone with Magic as strong and colorful as yours. You make it Beautiful.” She blushes, a deep crimson. That’s when I notice it. Small and subtle, but definitely there on her shoulder, a small black and blue butterfly with blue leaf like designs spreading out from it.
“When did you get a tattoo?” I ask. Leah’s eyes widen.

“What?”
“There on your left shoulder, a butterfly.” I say. She looks to where I’m pointing.
“It looks like yours.” Leah marvels. Wait. What? I look at my shoulder and sure enough, as small as Leah’s and in the same shade a butterfly tattoo rests on my shoulder on the same blue leaf like patterns. I suddenly understand.
“When the Magic first starts to Manifest, you get a tattoo to mark you into the Clan or Pack or Family that you belong in,” I explain. “The tattoo differs from clan to clan but for Gaurdian’s it has something to do with what your Magic favors.”
“So what does a Butterfly mean?”
“I don’t know, my old tattoo used to be a blue rose for Universal. Harmony is a Celtic knot, and Melody is a Dragonfly. I have never seen a Butterfly before.” I say wondrously. There were only three kinds and a fourth no one is sure really exists. The Legend of the Anonymuse or the Thirteen.


“But why now?”

I shrug, “Magic works in mysterious ways.”



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