Darker Than Black

:Darker Than Black: [Chapter: 1]

I wrote this story when I was in like, 8th grade, soooo don't expect too much! Haha. It's not edited at all... Maybe one day!

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I stared in open-mouth horror at the scene that was unfolding before me. The smell, the sight, the feeling, it was all too real. The heat was immense; I could barely breathe. I reached out to touch the fire, but my hand passed right through it. The only thing that changed was that my hand became extremely hot. I retracted it quickly and held it close to myself.

Something shining caught my attention. I walked over to it and noticed it was a house number sign. I picked it up and read the number: sixteen. I frowned slightly, looking up at the burning house. My house was number sixteen.

Realization dawned on me. I had seen this before. And I knew what happened next. Before I could protest, the house collapsed into a pile of flaming wood and debris.

"Miss?"

I jumped and opened my eyes, staring around warily. A man with a grey mustache was hovering over me, looking slightly concerned.

"Yeah?" I asked, frowning at him.

"This is your stop."

I sat up and nodded. The taxi driver backed away from me and I got out of the cab. I smoothed down my hair, hoping it looked all right. My stomach growled and I blushed. I fingered the money in my pocket. The first thing I'd do was search for a place to eat.

The taxi driver pulled away from me before I could ask him for directions. Just great. It was my first time in a new place, not knowing anyone, and now I was alone. I scowled and began walking down the street. Hopefully civilization was in this direction.

I knew I had made the right decision when I turned and saw a street full of shops and people. Relief flooded through me as I felt a little safer walking around by myself when so many people were around.

I paused at the street corner, looking around for the button to press so I could cross the street. I looked down and raised an eyebrow. Someone had drawn a large square about ten feet by ten feet in chalk by the edge of the sidewalk. I felt a little funny standing inside it.

I shrugged and pressed the button and waited patiently, watching as cars slowly passed by.

"Hey!" an agitated voice called out from behind me.

I ignored the voice, thinking they weren't talking to me.

"Hey! Stupid girl with the messy hair!"

I scowled now, positive that he was talking about me. I thought my hair looked good, but apparently not. I turned on my heel, coming face to face with a young man who looked maybe two years older than me.

He was pretty tall and slender, but his arm's showed that he had muscles. His skin was pale, and his hair was dyed black and slightly spiked. His right ear was pierced and a small black earring hung from it. He was wearing black skinny jeans, a tight white shirt and a black jacket thrown over it.

What. A. Rebel.

"Are you talking to me?" I asked politely, even though I wanted to demand he take back his insults.

"Yeah," he responded, frowning deeply at me. For some reason he sounded anxious. "Can't you see that sign?" He pointed to something behind me.

I turned and saw a small piece of paper safety pinned onto the telephone pole. I squinted at it. It read: Don't step in white square from two o' clock till six o'clock. I raised an eyebrow. "That looks like a fake sign. Did you draw it?"