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Prelude to the Forgotten

I slammed on the brakes and it became one of those moments where time slows. I felt the rear of my little crappy pickup truck leave its customary position behind me and swing out to my left. Instead of seeing the stopped car in front of me, I had to turn and see the brilliant red brake lights out of my rolled up window. “Shit,” slipped from my lips as the side of my truck wrapped itself around the rear of the tiny Italian sports car. My window shattered as I slammed against it.  I could see each individual shard of glass as it separated from the whole, suspended in the air, and then began falling slowly onto me and the floor. Even though time had slowed, the blood from the cut flowed normally, coating my face and my shirt before the first piece of glass hit the ground.

The sound of screeching tires and grinding metal stopped. The seat belt kept me in my seat and my head came to rest against the back of my headrest. I couldn’t move. My head listed to the side and I got a closer look at the sportscar that had become one with my truck. The impact should have crumpled the back and moved it at least ten feet. It hadn’t moved. My engine was still running, but I couldn’t move my hand to turn the key off. My crappy exhaust system was almost to loud for me to hear the whine of the engine of the car sticking out of my truck. It popped into gear and surged forward. I half expected it to take off. I didn’t expect the rear of the car to be totally in tact. My truck was totaled and it didn’t even have a scratch on its bumper. I felt my body growing cold and I vowed that if I survived I would only be buying Italian from that point forward.

My eyes started close. The last thing I remember is the Driver’s side door of the sportscar opening, and a very attractive leg stepping out.

* * *

I woke up staring at black ceiling tiles. They weren’t the cheap plasterboard ones in offices either. I think they call those drop ceilings. The ones I was looking at looked like they were made out of black sheet metal and had been attached directly to the ceiling. They were pretty cool. Must be a nice hospital.

I looked down and saw I was sleeping in one of the largest beds I could have ever imagined, let alone seen. Two intricate black wood posts sprung up from the bottom corners of the bed. I glanced behind me and two more were attached to a beautiful headboard behind me. I sat up and quickly looked around the rest of the room. White carpeting that looked more like bear skin then berber lined the room from wall to wall. The walls themselves looked like a tattoo artists dream. They were mostly white, but a black pattern had been meticulously hand painted everywhere. It looked vaguely tribal, but almost like a foreign language. My eyes widened in appreciation. Most of my body was covered with simple black tattoos ranging from tribal animals, to Japanese, to tribal wing outlines on my back. I’ve always loved tattoos. I wanted to take a picture of the walls for some more inspiration for Dexter, my tat artist.

I peeled back the sheet to get out of bed and quickly covered myself back up. I wasn’t wearing anything. Whoever had brought me to wherever I was, had undressed me before putting me between the soft white sheets of the bed. I wondered where “here” was. It wasn’t a hospital. Not by a long shot. Mansion yes, hospital no. I tugged on the sheet and freed it from beneath the mattress. I used it to wrap myself before stepping onto the floor. I expected some sort of pain from my accident and thanked God when I didn’t feel any. In fact…I hopped up and down a few times. I felt better than I had ever felt. I’m not old by any stretch of the imagination. Not even close.

I just turned thirty last year, but let’s just say I haven’t had an easy life. My parent’s had died while I was in high school. I had just turned 18 when they passed. I shoved the memory of prom night away. The drunk kid who had killed my parents had been my best friend. We haven’t spoken since the funeral. He felt horrible about the whole situation. I felt worse. I had to give up any hope of college and start earning a living. I started at night as a security guard to pay the bills and the mortgage. Luckily my parents had left everything to me. Once school was over, I started bouncing at bars by night, and working at the automotive factory by day. Ever see commercials of the big guy lifting car doors and putting them on carts to wheel over to the assembly line? Yeah. That’s me. Not the guy in the commercials, I just had that job. For the past eleven years. It did wonders for my upper torso, but my knees and my back were almost crapped out already. I had trouble sleeping at night from the pain and hadn’t been comfortable in years.

The pain was gone.

I held the sheet with one hand and bent over to touch my toes. The door opened behind me. I turned to look under my arm and saw the leg that had stepped out of the Italian Sports car in the doorway. Its twin was next to it. I slowly followed them up until they disappeared under one of the tightest red skirts I have ever seen. I stood slowly and turned wanting to see the rest of her. Surely I wouldn’t be disappointed with the rest of her. Not if her legs looked like that, right? I wasn’t. Not even by a little. I let out a little whistle. I couldn’t help it.

She was short, only about five feet tall. Her brown hair was cropped in a straight line right at her shoulders. I have worked in bars for a long time. I see a lot of beautiful women on a regular basis. They. Were. Nothing compared to her. She heard my whistle and rolled her eyes. She must get that a lot.

“How are you feeling?” Her voice was low and gravelly. I was expecting something soft and musical. It wasn’t disappointing, just unexpected. It was kind of sexy.

“Better. What Happened?”

“Do you remember the accident?”

“Um, yes. Why the hell did you stop like that?” I felt anger creep itself into my question. She had totally wrecked my truck. I’d need to get something else if i wanted to get my ass to and from work.

“Because I finally found you. I needed you to stop.”

“Ever hear of waving? That works wonders. Could have saved me a shitload of pain and the life of my truck.”

She finally smiled as she walked in and sat on the corner of the bed. “I also needed you to die first. I’m sorry.”

I felt the blood and color drain from my face. “You needed me to what?”

“Die. Stop breathing. Enter the realm of the unliving. Kick the bucket. Push up daisies. Be muy muerto.

“I died?”

“No silly. Technically you’re still dead. Feel your pulse.”

I’ve always had ha huge vein that ran up the side of my neck. It wasn’t my jugular, but I could always feel my pulse when i pressed my fingers against it. I did it again to prove to myself that she was nuts. I gave her an unbelieving stare, smirked, and rolled my eyes. “Ha ha ha,” I said and did what she said. My skin was rock hard. My skin was cold. The vein in my neck didn’t throb, pulse, or even move. It felt more like a tendon than a vein. Almost as if the blood inside it had turned solid. Slowly my hand fell to my side and I fell on my face. Right on the really soft white carpet.

* * *

I blinked twice and looked up at a set of gold eyes. Her face pulled back from mine and I started breathing again. I don’t know if I needed to breathe anymore, but my body did it anyway. “What did you do to me?”

“I killed you. We’ve been over that already.”

“Why?” I sat up when she had given me enough room. She must have rolled me over on my back and covered my lower extremities with the sheet. She must have been stronger than she looked. I’m six foot two and way two hundred and thirty five pounds. I had a Tibetan Mastiff bigger than her.

“It may take a while to explain, so I’ll give you the short version and you can learn the rest later. Deal?”

“Sure,” I said and rolled my eyes. She killed me. I was seriously considering returning the favor.

“You’re one of the Forgotten. Your parents were Forgotten too. They gave you up at birth to let the humans care for you. As you grow, you remain a normal human until the end of your mortal life. I guess you could say it’s sort of a pupae state. Only after death can you become what you were meant to be.”

“My parents weren’t Forgotten. They died in a car crash twelve years ago!”

“Those weren’t your parents. Those were two nice human people who thought they were adopting a normal little boy. The Forgotten lead difficult lives. It’s dangerous enough without having a fragile youngling to take care of. If you die too soon, you don’t become one of the Forgotten.”

“What do you become?”


“Oh. So what do the Forgotten do?”

“Fight. Live. Love. Sometimes they die.”

“I mean why do I not have a heartbeat? Is there anything else I should know about?”

“You don’t have a heartbeat because your body no longer needs to continuously get oxygen to your brain. As for what you can or can not do, I can not say. Each Forgotten is different. Sometimes, certain traits and abilities manifest themselves similar to other Forgotten. It all depends on who your parents were.”

“Who were my parents?”

“I have no idea.”

“What if I’m like other Forgotten. Is that bad?”

“No. It just means you have to be more careful. It’s how legends are born among the humans. Too many of the same kind of Forgotten and people start to talk.”

“Legends? What do you mean?”

“Vampires, werewolves, et cetera.”

I looked at her like she had lost her mind. Maybe she was always just insane. Vampires don’t exist. Werewolves aren’t real. She handed me a business card. “What’s this?”

“Go home and act normal. When you figure out what you are, call me. I’ll come help you.”

“How the hell am I supposed to get home? You killed my truck, remember?”

She smiled and pulled out a set of keys. “Good luck, Jimmy. Call me when you need me.”

As I watched her very attractive back side strutting away from me and out the door, all I could think of was, “How did she know my name?”

Categories: Uncategorized
  1. July 2, 2011 at 12:10 pm

    Ooohh, I like this. Is this a new book or a short?

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