Late for an Appointment with Destiny

Late for an Appointment with Destiny

Prologue

Something was clearly wrong. Daniel felt that something was awry as he stood there examining the brown and unremarkable building. Its unusual sign lent the building a degree of antiquity, but otherwise everything else seemed in order. The building gave Daniel a small prickly feeling in the back of his neck; it seemed strangely alive. The curtains inside the windows moved eerily, and he could tell that the way they moved was unnatural.

Daniel's general feeling of unease didn't prevent him from staring at the building, considering the sign: Madam Belle's Wiccan Wonderland. What exactly did this building offer? Knowing that he was drawn to this building, he had come to expect something far more extraordinary than a brown and stubby structure. While not able to quite visualize what he might have expected, this certainly not what he would've considered within the realm of possibility.

The teenager understood that something different was supposed to happen here, though he couldn't quite put his finger on it. This feeling dogged Daniel during the entirety of his short journey--an enigmatic sense of anxiousness that didn't materialize into a concrete thought or understandable sensation. While pondering, he sighed heavily, his shoulders moving with the breath. He coughed a little, and his body shuddered. Grimacing, he wearily scratched his arm; the overcast clouds above matched his mood, providing a gloomy and depressing atmosphere.

Hundreds of thoughts raced through his mind, becoming a mess of ideas, visions, and reflections--almost all of these recent. One of his slumped shoulders loosely carried a backpack filled with an assortment of items, most of which he was grateful for having. Inside, he had his last few dollars, a couple of granola bars, and some clothing. Looking every bit the delinquent, Daniel glanced to his right and left; nobody was on this street. Rubbing his chin, now covered with the growth of only a few weeks, he considered the fact that this area seemed entirely deserted. He felt more comfortable this way; no one would be around see the ridiculousness of his stalling to enter an occult niche shop. His wiry body, looking like it had a tad too much testosterone from the facial hair, shivered both from the anticipation and the cold.

Daniel's search for sanity and reason had gone on for a significant period of time, though he was not in a state to guess how long. It was certainly more than a few days, but also less than a month--the trek was evident at the bottom of his now-torn jeans, baggy by preference.

The teenager knew it was summer, but only because he thought that made the most sense. He didn't feel like he was traveling for an excessive time, and he left in the beginning month of summer. He felt lucky, in an ironic, relativistic sense. Despite his fierce determination to spend all of his money, Daniel still had some left. In addition to this stroke of luck, he also hadn't been approached by any strangers who could very easily harm the lost wanderer.

He didn't know it, but this was the virtue of strangers who felt that Daniel at least deserved some protection, even if they weren't willing to offer guidance.

In the distance, Daniel heard the impersonal caws of crows and coos of pigeons, both of which were a plague unto the city. Exciting only to tourists and old ladies, Daniel had grown accustomed to their cacophony and accepted them as simply part of the backdrop.

Daniel continued looking on in silence, as rain began started to fall. The rain provided another soundtrack. As the raindrops struck trashcans and thudded against roofs, Daniel added his own sound--a sharp intake of breath as he tried to build resolve. His hair, which normally brushed past his collar, was matted down against his neck as the rain increased in intensity. Water ran down in rivulets over his face while he remembered the past. Although it was difficult to tell, Daniel was crying. It had all happened too soon.

------------------------------------------------

Daniel felt peaceful in his bed. He had just come home from the last day of school, and he felt wonderful. His first year of high school had been exciting, but more or less like ever other year. This freshman would be glad to get rid of the monotony.

Clearly, Daniel had some plans. First, he would sleep in as long as possible. Then he would do whatever he felt like, provided that Julie--his caretaker--allowed it. He reveled in his carefully planned and well thought-out strategy for enjoying the summer, which was essentially nothing. Right now he was starting phase one of his Summer Relax Plan. His head hit the pillow at eleven o' clock, early by his definition.

He awoke with a start three hours later. The boy heard voices upstairs and he felt something tickle his nose. Twitching, his nose recognized the smell. His deep brown eyes grew wide as he turned to look at the door. Surely enough, smoke was streaming in from the top of his door in small quantities.

His lips, framed by weak and newly grown facial hair, formed an O of horror, before he mouthed the word "fire." Instinctively, he checked his clock, although this wouldn't help in any conceivable way. Two o'clock. He knew he should race out of the house as quickly as possible, but his gut wouldn't let him move.

This gut feeling was a recurring emotion. He had felt it often, most often during sports like soccer when his intuition told him to do what seemed like counterintuitive actions at the time, but helped him tremendously. It made him a decent goalkeeper, but he never much cared for goalkeeping.

In the back of his mind, he recognized the fact that he wouldn't see this house for a long time. Quickly, he grabbed his backpack, which he had emptied the day earlier in celebration of school's end. Filling it with the nearest useful items--and some not so useful--he rocketed from his bed to the desk near his door. Trying to salvage as much as possible, he grabbed nearly all the objects within reach. Most notably, he grabbed many of the clothes that he had thrown on the floor, as well as his wallet and his pens, which he kept nearby as a habit he developed during Debate, the activity he chose in soccer's stead when he entered high school.

Living on the ground floor, he recognized the fact that he had more of an opportunity to rush out the house than his caretaker, Julie. His feet slapped against the hardwood floor as he rushed out the door of his bedroom. It was a stroke of luck that he decided not to jump out of the window; he didn't know it, but the windows were Unbreakable. Regardless, the screen mesh would have made it difficult to open and exit efficiently.

His backpack flapping off of his shoulder, he turned out of the room and into the hallway. The hallway led, upon its termination, to the living room, which also served as an exit from the house. The first thing Daniel noticed in the corridor was the ambient noise. Voices were coming from stairs near the end of the hallway.

Despite the protestations of the logical part of his brain, he slowed to a stop outside the door leading to the second floor. Seconds later, he heard the rhythmic thumping of something falling down the stairs. Judging from the sound, the object was heavy. It bumped into the door, and pushed it slightly ajar. The sounds grew louder. Daniel simply stared at what he saw. It was a woman, old, but with young eyes. Years later, those eyes would haunt him. They were deep, vibrant and purple. He only knew one person with those eyes. It was Julie.

He had always been afraid to admit it, but Julie was his mom. Not in a biological sense, but in a more important capacity. She was supportive, proud, and most significantly, loving. Flashing through his mind were images of Julie hanging up certificates he had won through the years, her smile of delight as he brought home his first Debate trophy and her sympathetic murmur as she nursed the injury he got from riding his first bike.

But this wasn't how Daniel remembered Julie. Julie was 35, not 75. She was young, athletic, determined, and intelligent. This person was feeble and old. He felt that this woman's will was broken--lines of fatigue and age etched her face as the bags underneath her eyes outlined the seeming lack of sleep that this character experienced. It certainly wasn't Julie.

The figure wheezed, breathing in and out with great pain. It was here that Daniel saw that this figure wasn't merely feeble, but suffered much. Daniel was surprised by the determination in this woman, and with her dying breaths, she uttered one word.

"Daniel!" she gasped aloud, clearly expending a great deal of energy on every syllable. Her lips stopped moving, and the wheezing emanating from her mouth ceased as her body grew silent.

------------------------------------------------

Immediately, Daniel snapped out of his state of morbid fascination and ran. He bolted out of the hallway, grabbed his shoes, and exited the already open door without stopping once. He convinced himself that he was running out of fear of the fire. Rather, he was afraid of the truth. He didn't want to accept the idea that he just witnessed the death of someone he loved so dearly. Hoping that it was instead some trick of his mind, he fled the house, the windows growing smaller with each step.

Had Daniel been more clear-minded throughout the situation, he would've noticed a few things. First, he never saw a sign of fire other than the smoke. Second, smoke rose; for any smoke to reach him, the fire had to have started on the ground floor--which it clearly didn't. Finally, he would've noticed that moments after he left the house, strange beams of light were being fired back and forth between robed figures in the second floor, and then, in his room.

Daniel committed another oversight--he hadn't seen that Julie was also wearing a robe.