The Nightmare always ended the same way.
Samuel Anderson stood in the middle of fifth street, Smoke curling through the dawn-Light
Like Fingers reaching for something already Lost. Springfield Stretched around him In every Direction, but It was not the Springfield he knew. The Capitol Dome had Caved inward. Cars Lay overturned and Charred
Along the Curbs. And the Bodies-God, The
Bodies were stacked in the Intersection like
Firewood, Limbs Tangled. Faces frozen In
Expressions he could never Quite Forget
Upon Waking. Then the Voice Came. Low.
Ancient. Patient. Find me. It did not shout.
It never shouted. It simply pressed against
The Inside of his Skull Like a Thumb Testing the Ripeness of Fruit, Samuel would feel his
Legs move toward the Pile of Corpses, toward something buried Beneath them, something Bound In Leather and Humming with a Frequency that made his teeth Ache.
Find me, Samuel. He woke Gasping, his
Sheets were Damped, his Heart was slamming against his ribs. Morning Light Sliced through the Blinds of his small bedroom. Somewhere downstairs, his mother was making coffee. He could smell It.
Bitter. Ordinary and Perfect. Samuel pressed
Both Palms against his eyes and Breathed
Until his Pulse slowed. Three months. The
Same Dream, Three months. Running.
He swung his legs over the side of the bed and caught his Reflection In the Mirror on
The closet door. A Fourteen Year old kid with
Light brown hair that never Quite Decided which Direction to go and Blue eyes, still wide from sleep. Nothing about him looked
Like someone who should be having visions
Of the Apocalypse. The Letter was still on his
Desk where he had left It the night before, The Cream-Colored envelope was already
Wrinkled at the corners from how many times
He had unfolded and Refolded the Page Inside. The Seal-a tower wrapped in Silver
Flame-Still shimmered faintly when the Light
Caught It. Springfield Magic Academy Cordially extends It's Invitation. He had read
It forty times. He could recite It from Memory
And today was the day. Downstairs, his mother stood at the Kitchen Counter. Stirring
Her coffee with the slow, Deliberate motion
Of someone trying not to cry. Samuel walked
Into the Kitchen with the Envelope In his right
Hand. He was dressed In a simple white T-shirt and Light Blue Jeans. Karen Anderson
Was not a magic user. Neither was Samuel's
Father, wherever his Father was these days. The Letter's arrival three weeks ago had opened a door, neither of them fully understood. Samuel had watched his mother cycle through wonder, Confusion, Suspicion
And Finally a Cautious, Fragile hope."Eat something before you leave" Karen said without turning around. "And I don't care
If they have a Feast waiting. I would like for you to eat here first." Samuel Chuckled as he replied, "Yes, Ma'am" Karen turned then, her Light Blue eyes were Red-Rimmed. Her smile was Steady. She crossed the Kitchen.
She Placed both of her hands on his Shoulders, Studying. The way she always did
When she wanted to memorize a moment.
"You call me every Sunday" Karen told Samuel, her tone firm. Samuel opened his
Mouth to say something but his mother beat him to it. "Every single Sunday, Samuel"
Samuel nodded as he replied, "I will, Mom"
"And If anyone gives you trouble, You tell someone. You hear me?" Samuel nodded.
Before Karen could turn back toward the
Kitchen Counter, Samuel gently pulled her
Into a hug because simple words felt Insufficient. She held on a beat Longer than
Usual. After releasing Samuel, Karen turned
Back around to walk toward the Kitchen Counter where her coffee was. To pretend as
Though nothing happened. He ate two Pieces of Toast. Drank a glass of Orange juice. He walked Into the Living Room, his
Bag was already packed. Waiting by the front
Door. Clothes, Notebooks, a Flashlight, and
Tucked into the inner Pocket was a Photograph of his mother Standing In Front
Of their house on Ash Street. The Bus Arrived at Eight Fifteen. It looked Ordinary
From the Outside-a Standard yellow School bus Idling at the corner of Ash and Monroe
Samuel held up his Letter, The Bus driver
A Heavyset woman with Warm Brown eyes
And an Unsettling number of Rings on her fingers scanned through Samuel's letter before saying, "Welcome aboard, Anderson
Find a seat" the Bus was Half-Full. Kids his age, some older. some younger, all wearing
The same Expression he imagined was on
His own Face:Excitement stitched tight over Fear. He slid into an Empty Seat near the
Middle. He set his bag on his Lap, a Girl across the aisle caught his eye and smiled.
Her Dark Hair was pulled back In a loose Braid. And brown eyes that seemed to carry
A Joke she had not yet decided to Share. "First year?" She asked, her tone curious.
Samuel Nodded. "Same here" she extended
Her hand across the aisle. "Elena Vasquez"
"Samuel Anderson" her handshake was firm and Brief. "You look like you slept about as well as I did" Samuel almost laughed. "That Obvious?" He asked, "Little Bit" she tilted her head. "Bad Dreams?" The Question Landed
Strangely, Like a stone dropped into still Water. Samuel opened his mouth, closed it.
Then managed to shrug. "Something like that" Elena studied him for a moment longer
Than felt Casual. Then settled back in her seat as the bus lurched forward. "Yeah," she said Quietly, almost to herself. "Something like that." Springfield rolled past the windows
Familiar streets, Familiar Storefronts. The ordinary world he had known for Fourteen
Years. And Beneath It all, Beneath the rattle
Of the bus and the murmur of nervous Students, and the distant hum of a
September morning, Samuel felt it again.
Faint. Patient. Waiting. Find me. Samuel closed his eyes and said nothing.