Strange Wonders

Pilot

I woke up to light peeking through the window drapes, a loud alarm and the scent of eggs and bacon from the kitchen downstairs. This was my everyday, I wake up, go take a shower (or not), and head downstairs for breakfast with my Ma. My Pa has been out of the picture since I was about ten, since then it's just been me and Ma. He loved a good travel, my pa, one day, a plane crash was a death of him. We were lucky he left a good pot of cash in me and my Ma's accounts, or else we'd a had nothin'. 

As I head on to the kitchen for breakfast, wearing the same jeans from yesterday and a clean white shirt, a sharp pain hit my nape for just a minute. I began to remember my dream, my beautiful dream, and my nightmare.

I was sitting at the backseat of an empty opera house, and the sweet melody of a cello bounced around, filling the hall with this dark but luring music. It was a beautiful song, then a girl began to sing, with the voice of a nightingale, 

"attend moi, mon amour,

 car j'arriverai bientôt.

 les mers je navigue et les sables je marche pour vous rencontrer à la fin."

Then the melody stops and the curtains begin to close, an applaud is heard in the silent hall, and I manage to peek at the performer. She had blond waves, fair skin and white dress on her. By the time the curtain closes the light dims, and hoards of dark and horrid things start to try and grab me.

The breakfast table was always small and meant for three, with a plate of eggs, bacon and juice waiting for me one it. Toast was in the toaster, the pan smelt like butter, and my ma was wearing her apron and formal pink dress.

"Good Mornin' sweetheart," she greeted, "don't ya forget to say grace."

"Sure thing ma," I replied and pretended to pray while I eyed the fresh eggs.

"I spoke to Margaret this morning, and she gone said that the Manor up on the old Colony lane's been occupied," she said with that tone she uses every time she fills me in on the latest gossip from the Junior League.

"Yeah?" I said just to entertain her, "who's in it?"

"I ain't sure Andrew," she told me in a sassier tone than usual, "though I know for sure that they gone be rich, and I can sure tell that they won't be welcome here."

"Why might that be mama?" I asked, curiously.

"Because sweet pea," she shook her head while I ignored that gesture by chomping down on the toast, "Sarah, who lived right across em informed Margaret, who informed me, that they ain't Christian like us. You know how those people are sweetie, they can be a tad out of place, different, immoral perhaps."

"Yar over reacting mama," I said, disapproving of that cruel twist on her face. "Anyhow...I gotta go. First days a school only come once a year for the rest a my high school life."

"And college," my mother added, "You want to attend Messiah College don't ya?"

"I'll consider it ma," I replied, picking up my brand new backpack, "but I was thinking something like NYU."

My mother gave me that disapproving frown as I walked out without saying goodbye. I had about three more years 'til I can get out of this house, I had less to do and more to look forward to. 

....

Schools here at small communities like Clairon County are pretty depressing. The teachers dont give a damn so long a they get paid, and the board's filled with all sorts a religious assholes. In fact, most a the kids here take after their parents, act like there parents even. Give Melanie Houston as an example, in the eyes a everyone else she's kind and sweet and innocent. But I know very well that she ain't. Like her momma Margaret Houston, she's vindictive and cunning, she'll use the law and the bible only to her advantage.