Original Stories Fan Fiction ❯ The Vampire Prince ❯ Burnt Toast ( Chapter 1 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

By the time my mother and my younger brother are up, I am already feeling the lack of sleep. It is seven thirty, and my mother is in the kitchen when I finally decide to make my way down the stairs. I have finished all of my homework assignments that should have been done the previous night, as well as cleaned my room and changed my outfit four times. I am not someone who is big on appearances, but it was something to keep me awake and it did the trick. The smell of brewing coffee does little to perk my dulled senses, and I slump into a hard chair beside the kitchen table. My mother is still in her housecoat, and she too looks as if she's been up all night. I don't comment on it though because I'm not in the mood to hear her complaining. Instead, I remain silent, sulky almost, and pop two pieces of bread into the toaster and watch as it slowly makes my breakfast.

"Rough night?" she asks me, obviously taking in my dishevelled appearance. I've been running my hands constantly through my hair, and regardless of the fact that it sticks out every which way when I do brush it, what little grooming I had managed to do has come undone. I shiver under my long sleeved shirt, before leaning heavily against the back of my chair. My lack of an answer does not discourage her oncoming interrogation, and she sits down across from me with a cup of black coffee in her hands. I stare at her fingers which are slowly becoming withered and worn with age. Despite her forty two years, raising two kids on her own has been hard on her. I do the best I can, but a part time job doesn't help much to pay the bills, and school has always been one of her top priorities for me.

"..Are you having those dreams again, Gage?"

I do lift my head at this, and she must see the wariness in my eyes, for she quickly backs up and shakes her head.

"I mean nightmares, dear, nightmares. You look like you've had a terrible night--did you get any sleep at all?"

"They're just dreams," I say dryly, despite the acceleration in my pulse. Just thinking about the rain and the feeling of something unseen following me brings me discomfort, and I shift in my chair. She traces the rim of her cup with her finger, drinking the liquid inside obviously forgotten. It stays quiet like this for several minutes, and I can't help but wonder about my father again. She never mentions him, and it is almost a silent rule not to speak of him. Whenever I mention do him to her though, her face goes pale--it always has, and she claims to feel ill before disappearing for hours into her small, cramped bedroom that she shares with my brother. I can't even recall his face anymore, and the only thing that I have ever been able to pry from my mother was that I have his eyes. And this was a verbal slip-up, one of which she made sure not to make again.

"Maybe we can go to the doctors," she finally suggests, "he can prescribe you some sleeping pills."

"Mom--" I begin, but she lifts her hand and cuts me off.

"Gage, I know we are tight on money but I am your mother. I can worry about you, and I want you to be healthy. That includes getting proper sleep."

"I did get sleep," I lie, getting to my feet. "I have to go to school or I'll be late."

"You have forty minutes." my mother replies sharply, her eyes moving to the clock positioned above the stove.

"Fine. I have an assignment due."

Turning on my heel, I yank my worn sneakers onto my feet, pull on my jacket and grab my knapsack. She follows me into the hallway, but I am already opening the door and stepping onto the porch. I can tell without looking that she is upset, and I do feel guilty about this--she doesn't need any more stress, especially from me--but I can't help it. I don't even know what's going on with my dreams, and it really is stupid for me to dwell on something that happens when I'm sleeping. After all, nothing could actually happen to me and dreams feel realistic to billions of other people around the world, too.

And it's only after heading down the steps do I realize what the smell wafting from the doorway is. Burnt toast. I'd forgotten my breakfast.

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Authors Note: Hello! Thank you for reading the first chapter of my story. : ] I'm sure you've noticed that it's really..really short. This is how I write my stories, because it helps me update more frequently, and it takes longer for me to get bored with the story. I put down what needs to be written, and don't waste five extra paragraphs on something that really doesn't need to be there. I am aware my writing is not the best, but I ask that if you are interested in this plot, to bear with me. I will improve is I go on (hopefully) and perhaps later on, my chapters will get longer?

Read and Review if you are interested.