The Supernaturals-1: Enlightened

Chapter 1

Dear Diary

It's getting worse. By worse, I mean stronger, more difficult to contain, or to hide. The energy inside of me is getting too much. I don't know for how long I will be able to suppress it. It's growing painful, but there is nowhere I can release it. It's beginning to show too. This morning, I looked into the mirror, and my skin and hair glowed! I don't mean the glow of health, but more like a light had been switched on in my body and my skin were a glass bulb! I'm also getting hot flushes I can't get rid of, try as I might!

WHAT AM I GOING TO DO?

My body is like a volcano, and the lava and ashes of this volcano (the glowing energy) is fighting to burst forth. I can feel it.

As if that's not enough, tomorrow, I'm heading to a brand-new life, a new school, in a hostel, of course, since that hag of a stepmother wants me out of the house, and there's not a snowball's hope in the depths of hell that my coward of a father is going to stand up for me, so, checkmate. I'm heading to a new school on the other side of the flaming country! Shoo-ee!

Anyway, my power is becoming a problem. Yet, I have no choice but to deal with it on my own. I know what would happen if I let it show: I'll be labeled a monster. Freak.

Dierdre shut her diary after concluding the entry. This diary was probably her only outlet. It was a beautiful, thick book with a black leather cover, like an old-fashioned tome. In elegant golden lettering, stamped horizontally over the cover, it read, THE DIARY OF DIERDRE ELENA BLANCH. Underneath it, in red fine-print font, it said, Caution: Do not open without express permission of the owner, or risk permanent blindness. She knew that this is actually what would happen. She used a little of her light energy to enchant the book to protect it. After she had arrived at school, one never knew who would snoop into her hostel dormitory and try to steal it, or just attempt to read it. The book couldn't lock, so precaution needed to be taken. Luckily, no one had taken that chance at home. Yet. She put the book in her bedside drawer and shut it, laying back on her pillow.

Oh, how she was going to miss her bed. The mattress beneath her was perfect for her, the pillows were so soft and comforting. Hopefully the beds at her new school wouldn't be those metal-framed, box-styled beds. They were so uncomfortable, that Dierdre's body ached when she slept on one of them. She shut her eyes, praying to whoever was listening, to send her a sign that everything was going to go well, or, if she were destined for iminent suffering, that it would be for a good cause, at the very least.

She drifted off.

And dreamt.

Dierdre knew she was dreaming. Ever since she had begun to become aware of the light energy inside her body, she had had very lucid dreams. This one was no different. She dreamt that someone was standing beside her bed. Cautiously, she turned her head to look at them. It was a man, well, he looked about eighteen or nineteen, but for his age, he was frighteningly tall! He couldn't be shorter than six feet and three inches, if she had to estimate. He had an unruly mass of curly, coal-black hair, and eyes as dark as midnight. His skin was deep mahogany, like her late mother's artwork table, flawless, evenly toned. He towered over her, broad, masculine shoulders, and a body that was so muscular, it shouldn't have been biologically possible. The shirt he had on, looked about to rip at the seams. He could send all those advanced power lifters to hell if he wanted.

Even in the dream, Dierdre's fear was sharp and real as she stared at the giant before her. At last, after having to mentally debate whether she should say anything, all she managed to stammer was, "Who ... who are you?"

Slowly, he reached out with his right hand, then he spoke. What he said, she couldn't understand at all. His voice had a bass music to it, not only deep, but powerful and resonant, even in the low, quiet way he spoke now. The language he spoke was rough, not elegant at all. His voice ended in a questioning tone.