Dorian Roberts's Story

Joel Reed(pronounced with a jh sound, as he was quick to remind people) was a relatively happy twenty-two-year-old paying his way through college as a barista at a small New York coffee shop. The pay was nothing fancy, but the job did have some perks. For one, there would be large gaps of time without people ordering so he could get his homework done. Another was that the owner had yet to complain about his nose-ring or ever-changing hair color. But the greatest perk of working in this coffee shop was all of the interesting people he met.
"Joel, Joel, Joel, Joel, Joel, Joel-" Except Melanie, his new coworker. She was just annoying. And wasn't she supposed to be working the cash register right now?
"What is it, Melanie?" He sighed, closing his laptop with a click. His essay on birthstones could wait.
"We've got a customer." Joel looked at her as if he thought she was an idiot. Well, to be fair, he did.
"Melanie, we're a coffee shop. We get customers. That's what we do."
"Well, I know, but- This one's scary. He looks like a vampire or something- all scary and cold and could you deal with him?"
Joel rolled his eyes. Honestly, he had no idea why his boss had thought hiring that ditzy sixteen-year-old was a good idea in the first place.
"Fine, I'll do it."
Melanie waited in the back room, listening at the door to see what happened. She couldn't hear much, but she did pick up on the distinct sound of the bells on the shop door jingling. Melanie finally bothered to poke her head out the door.
Joel was at the register, no worse for wear and the man was gone.
"What happened?"
"Well, your Dracula's apparently not much of a blood drinker. He ordered an Earl Gray Tea to go," Joel snorted. "Honestly, Melanie, if you're going to act that way with all of our regular customers, you shouldn't even be here."
"Regular customer? Who is he?"
"Dorian Roberts."

Unaware of the turmoil he'd just caused, Dorian Roberts stepped out onto one of New York's sidewalks that were filled to bursting even on a Saturday, a styrofoam cup of tea in his hand, the heat curling into the cool autumn air. If anything, the girl running off was the weirdo, he mused, blowing on his tea in an attempt to cool it down before taking a sip.
Dorian Roberts was admittedly not a completely normal teenager. That was obvious just by looking at the way he was dressed; black slacks, white button-up shirt, shined black shoes, a warm, black coat, and a dark blue scarf. He really looked more like a young business man than a seventeen-year-old going for a walk to the park. In other ways he was a bit of a typical teenager; he disliked homework, tended not to wake up too early, played the cello, and...
He stopped suddenly, hand shooting out to wrap around the wrist of a large man who was attempting to liberate Dorian's wallet from his pocket.
"Hey! Leggo, man!" the would-be thief protested loudly.
"Maybe when you let go of my wallet," Dorian hissed quietly.
"I don't know what you're talking about!"
Wrong answer, as it turns out, because "and" turned out to be "and he was a black belt in tae-kwon-doh. With a cold, determined look in his gray eyes, Dorian wrenched the man's wrist behind his back, twisting until the man let out a yelp of pain and the wallet dropped to the sidewalk. He instantly let him go, picked up his wallet, and kept walking. Some people had stopped to stare, but quickly moved on. This was New York, after all. Stranger things than well-dressed men getting their wallets back with force happened every day.

Dorian let out a little sigh as he walked away. He'd spilled some of his tea in the altercation. Great. But at least it hadn't spilled on his watch or, more importantly, his bracelet. The almost feminine silver bracelet with a single aquamarine attached had been a birthday gift from his father some years ago. It wasn't amazing, and when people spotted it they tended to give him strange looks, but the sentimental value made him keep it on every hour of the day.
When he made it to Central Park without any other notable incident, he stopped to look as a small group of people had begun to gather around a tree. He followed their gazes up, expecting to see something like a baby squirrel, and was mildly surprised to see a girl in the tree looking disoriented. Was that even legal, climbing the trees in Central Park?
But it wasn't his problem. He took another sip of his tea, now chilled to a more livably temperature, and settled down on a bench to relax.

Home, home, home. That was all that floated through the mind of the ten-year-old child as she walked on her way through Central Park. Of course, it was a bit strange that this little girl, clothed in her cover-ups, was walking by herself. The bag she carried was filled with her normal clothes, and her dance shoes. Nothing more, and nothing less, just the way she preferred it. Though, it was strange that the ten-year-old was concerned with how much her bag contained than with if she was going to be able to make it home in time. However, just before she had left her dance school, the young light brunette child had phoned her guardian to let them know that she was, in fact, going to be possibly late for dinner. She let out a sigh, and loneliness scratched at the back of her mind again.

It wasn't often that the dark brown eyed girl felt this way, and whenever she looked at the blue topaz stone that was the only charm attached to the gold-colored chain, Maris Morisollen couldn't help but smile a little again. The bracelet had been given to her by her mother who was fighting lung cancer, just weeks before the strong-willed woman passed on. That was what she did, before the sudden realization that she was tired, her feet were aching and seeming to scream for a rest, hit her like a slap to the face. Another sigh was heard from the young one as she decided to sit down on a bench not too far from a man in a suit holding a cup of something from a small coffee shop. However, little Maris found her attention dragged away from the man to the group underneath the tree.

She was more shocked, however, at the dazed and disorientated girl up within the branches of said tree. However, she stayed seated, believing that the group underneath the tree was probably more than enough for the strange woman could handle.

Dorian had to admit, he was paying some attention to the people around him. Like the little girl who'd sat on the bench with him, watching the tree-drama was at least mildly entertaining. The girl perched in the tree looked like she might fall any minute, flopping around on the branch, and, upon further inspector, was dressed strangely. No shoes, for one, and a weird style of clothing he hadn't really seen before. His first impression? She may in fact be on drugs. That would explain climbing trees in central park midday dressed like that.
She wasn't really loud, but he did catch her questions. Where was she? Yes, he thought, taking another sip of tea, probably a druggie.

Maris, even though she paid no attention to the man she sat next to, couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at the girl's question. Of course, she shook her head sadly. To her, Tallyho seemed to be one of those people that abused drugs. The way she was talking, the way she was dressed, and DEFINITELY the way she handled the situation seemed to point in the direction that, yes, the girl was higher than a kite. Or, she could possibly be insane, and just not know it.

Maris shuddered a little, but made no point to move. She didn't want to really get caught up in the conversation.

Is that so….?” She mumbled. Tallyho struggled to get up. Her dress didn’t help her in the chilly weather. The others were acting so strange. In fact, people who she hadn’t even spoken to were stealing glances. Keeping her poker face solid, she made a lame march to the other side of the walk way— towards the lake.
“This is so surreal,” she whispered. She had nearly forgotten that her amethyst glowed hotter as more people approached.
She didn’t get far before she heard the brisk snapping of treetops, or rather one very peculiar tree top. She turned around to see the tree she was stuck in only moments ago, hanging lopsided. On one side its roots ripped from the ground. On the other side, its green-orange leaves hung towards the ground, like the hair of a ditzy girl tilting her head. She stopped and stared at the great plant, eager to watch it tip on its side. To confirm that what she saw was true.
And surely it did, the tree landed with a startling shuffle of a noise. It didn’t seem to land on anyone, but it definitely fell hard. Tallyho drew closer and sunk through the other girls like a spirit. It seemed that there was something odd about the spot where the tree was planted.

A young fellow sat in a faded chair in the midst of a nearly empty room, save for the bed and linens bought to make it somewhat comfortable, if not livable at that. He had the quality of boyishness with his dark brown messy hair and seemingly mischievously glazed blue eyes. But with his cheeks that could have cut bread, lean but well muscled frame, and a stillness few youth as young as he could ever achieve, he seemed too serious in turn. He quietly listened to a mousy, brown-haired woman as she spoke, noting things as she went on her fingers with her index finger of the other hand, it was a familiar tap-tap in his ears. "There is food in the fridge, I've got it labeled with a sticker for you. And-..." His mother hummed, fretting. He listened to all she had to say, truthfully. But was tiring of her latest decision to dote on him today, and make sure he was all in order to survive the day before him without her there for him, it wasn't like he hadn't been through it before. His blind, blue eyes blearily attempted to focus in the vague direction of her voice echoing somewhere above his head from the chair he sat in, with mild success after years of practice, and he nodded whenever she paused to take a breath (like clock-work, oddly enough). "Mary, we'll be late, the boy will survive until we get home. Come now," Came a rough, gravely male voice from the other side of the fairly spacious apartment/lounge they rented whilst staying in New York for new business opportunities for his old man, waiting at the door. It was rare his father talked much with actual words, and less hrumping, grumbling grunts, and even rarer he seemed to be trying to save Falke a little more fond doting by his mother. Mary sighed, nitpickingly touching his shirt by making sure all buttons were buttoned and smoothed out wrinkles once again, before kissing him lightly on the fore-head and departed out of the room, "Good bye." "Bye." Falke breathed deeply once the door had shut, the voices of his mother and father departing down the hall, soon disappearing into the elevator he guessed and on their way to the dinner they where attending with other business associates, releasing it with an exasperated but amused snort. It had only taken five minutes this time to get her through her babying him and hustled out the door, which was an improvement at the very least. And she was constantly improving as he grew older, maybe one day he'd have her not blink an eye. Not likely, but still a pleasant thought. He returned to present thoughts instead of high day-dreams, glancing with bemusement around the empty room. What too do with his freedom the rest of the afternoon? Humm. "Otter?" He called, softly. In return came the slow, faithful pads as the old mutt walked to the chair its' master sat in, flopping down to lay at his feet, his tail whacking a few times into his shins. Falke leaned down, rubbing the ears of his faithful companion over the years as the dog pressed his head into his palm. "Want to go for a walk boy, Central Park, eh?" In response, Otter made a sound nothing sort of a scoffing groan, removing his head from being scratched and attempted to hide it between his front paws. Falke snorted, figuring as much. He struggled for a moment, pushing himself up out of the chair, currently attempting to engulf him whole with all the creaking and moaning noises it made while sucking him into the material. On his feet, he walked to his small closet, opening the door grabbing a black turtle-necked sweater to tug on over the blue dress shirt he currently wore, and accompanied it with a old dark brown leather business coat that had once been his fathers', imagining himself to now look like a respectable if causal young business man. It would do well enough to be able to walk outside in the slightly nippy weather, and come home without a cold, he was certainly eager to keep the doting sessions with his dearest mother five minutes or less. He made his way to the door, grabbing the keys to the apartment stuffing them in the jacket's pocket, gingerly shuffling around on the kitchen counter for his 'sunglasses' and settled them lightly on the bridge of his nose, and grabbed his walking stick leaning against the wall besides the door, tapping it experimentally on the toe of boots he wore. All in working order now, he paused before heading out, casting a forlorn voice forth, "Otter, you coming?" He was answered by something resembling a loud snore echoing across the apartment. Could dogs snore? Apparently. He rolled his eyes, opening the door with a creak, setting out down the hall and elevator when he came to it. He dipped his head politely as he slipped past the door-man, and out into the relatively crowded, smelly street of New York. In reality it wasn't all too bad, but it certainty wasn't home for him.

The trip through the winding city streets, somewhat hazardous cross-walks, he met little foot-traffic on his way to the park thankfully. Most surprisingly going out of there way of there busy lives that had worlds revolving around them alone to give him room as he confidently strode amongst the people around him. He could have liked a little less pity in the looks or whispers he earned, but what was, was, and he dealt with it by simply ignoring it. As he made it to the park the air seemed a little cleaner, and the honks of distant cars of city seemed farther away than they really were, it was the most peaceful place in the big city he'd found more often than not, a home away from home for him really. He walked calmly, slowly clicking his walking stick on the narrow pavement every now and again, sure never to stray from the path. Enjoying the quiet. He soon grew closer to sounds of commotion going on further ahead on the path, noting what seemed to be a bunch of gaggling girls talking amongst one another, shortly followed by what sounded like a tree falling now, felt like a tree falling down as the ground shook briefly under his feet even at his distance. A feathery brown eyebrow raised to be seen over the rim of his 'sunglasses', nostrils flared uncertainty. Okay. That was odd. New York was just weird, yes, that explained it all certainty. He convinced himself to continue moving again, certain it was just some weird New York thing/people, up to the point where the bench he usually sat at most days he came here, finding it occupied fully. Well, it was likely both could see far better than he and knew was was going on more or less, perhaps they'd tell him, eh, it was worth a shot; even if he didn't get a seat today, pity. "Do either of you mind, what's going on?" He mused lightly, questioning. Hoping his accent wasn't butchering his English too badly, he'd worked hard enough on it and it should have been literate sounding enough by now. He rested his walking stick against a slack leg, as he waited, politely, for an answer.

Dorian turned his attention from whatever was going on with the tree-girl group to the stranger standing near his bench. Oh. Dorian blinked. He was blind. Not that it mattered much, but it was kind of interesting.
"I'm not sure," He said, voice cold but not rude, after another sip of his rapidly cooling tea. Which was true because honestly things were just getting bizarre, even for Central Park. "When I arrived there was a girl who apparently climbed one of the trees asking where she was. Some other girls went to talk to her, a tree suddenly fell over, and now the girl from the tree is..." He paused, craning his neck to see. Backing away and repeating something he couldn't quite make out. "Freaking out...About something."
A cold chill ran up his spine and he suddenly shivered, but it wasn't from the cold. There was something warm on his right wrist, where his bracelet was, but he didn't pay it any mind. Something was happening. Or maybe that was just one of the girls pulling out a butter knife. Regardless, staying here? Not a great idea.
Dorian stood up, hand still gripping his cup.
"Now one of the girls has a knife," He added, more for the stranger's sake than his. See, he wasn't completely mean. "Leaving might be a good idea."

Maris watched closely, but her attention was drawn from the group of girls to the blind man talking to the other one she sat next to. Not wanting to overhear, the girl scooted closer to her edge of the bench, her mind and focus now on the girls. She shivered, shuddered, and looked to her left wrist in almost a passive shock. The heat that she felt from it was scaring her.

When she heard that one girl had pulled out a knife, the little one was up and on her feet. However, she couldn't bring herself to leave, something glued her there to that very spot. Fear? Most likely, since she was starting to shake uncontrollably from it. Her eyes were wide, and she could barely process what was going on. A possible druggie, one girl wielding a knife and waving it at the direction of the fallen tree, a blind man, and apparently the person she had been sitting next to was a perfect gentleman. This must be some weird dream!

It was easy enough to pretend that this was just New York, weird things happening there day by day, but then again-... Falke felt his hackles raising up as if he were a feral dog ready to fight or flee, whichever seemed productive in the situation at hand. He could tell something just wasn't right, and couldn't be explained just as simple weirdness. And his hand felt oddly warm, a soft heat searing from the metal coils wrapped around his finger and the jewel, a star-shaped sapphire, lay transfixed within. But he didn't pay it any more mind, save for noting it was a odd annoyance and occurrence in the beginning of a bitter fall season in the city around him, considering the situation at hand. What was going on, seriously?

He listened intently to what the stranger had to say, growing more uneasy. But his facial features remained carefully blank, thoughtful even. Generally when people began freaking out about something, and butter-knife, or knife in general, was involved, that didn't mean anything good was happening. Yes, it was likely a good idea to leave, especially before it got to out of hand, whatever was happening. Just as he decided he would turn and leave and walk another trail in the park far away from whatever was going on here today and thank the stranger for his answers as he went, he barely kept himself from nearly skittering sideways when sudden sound and movement close at hand crashed abruptly against his heightened and alerted senses. He tensed, strung up as tightly as a hunting bow. His nostrils flared as he snorted in surprise. Glancing vaguely in the direction of the sound at the bench, the other person, a little person at that, that had sat at the bench along with the stranger who had spoken with him and answered his questions had gotten up suddenly, he imagined he could smell the fear coming off her little shaking form. Okay. Nothing scary, more or less, here. But geez', he wasn't normally this easily jumpy. "Leaving seems rather logical." He hummed roughly in answer, finally. Just as a sudden explosion of sound ontop of what was already going on, clicking, crackling, and hissing, like some giant, monster bug-thing. He took a step back then, a thin line on his maw. Okay, yes, leaving sounded very good right now.

Dorian's cup of tea tumbled to the ground, the liquid spilling into the grass below. Monsters were not real. They did not knock over trees. They did not claw their way out of the ground. And, most importantly, they did not show up in Central Park. Except, apparently, they did. Only Dorian did not intend to stick around and see what else monsters could apparently do.
But he couldn't move for a moment, fear keeping his feet firmly planted to the ground. The monster in question was the most horrific thing Dorian had ever seen, its reptilian features belonged in the nightmares of a dark, disturbed mind, not standing in front of him.
The warmth on his right wrist was pulsing now as if trying to catch his attention. He spared it a glance, but could only see the ever present glint of silver from his bracelet and it really wasn't his problem right now.
But the warmth did serve the purpose of distracting him for just long enough to snap him out of the frozen state of fear and bring him back to the present. His hand shot out, wrapping itself solidly around the blind boy's wrist before he started to run, tugging the other boy along after him, barking out a short, "Come On!". There wasn't any time to explain what was happening, and he still had the presence of mind not to leave someone to die.

Jasmine took a large gulp of air as she looked at the massive creature before her.
Her feet were rooted to the ground as she looked into the monsters slits for eyes.
"Oh God, I'm going to die." She squeaked, her throat closing.
She knew it was sheer fear that kept her in the same spot, Jasmine looked over at the group retreating and closed her eyes for a minute.
"Okay." She said softly, taking a deep breath.
She opened her eyes and turned, sprinting away.
Jasmine could feel the heat of her bracelet on her wrist, but that wasn't important right now, she needed to get away - Why did she ever come to New York.
Catching up with the two boys she looked at them "You see it too right?" She asked, wondering whether she was going insane.

Jackson had managed to ignore the odd group of girls hanging around and in a tree and finally finish his mystery book and even started on the second one he brought, but he couldn't ignore the big black dragon-bug and horrid screeching. He turned and growled both against the interruption and the headache it gave him.

He was still capable of thinking, though, especially thinking crazy thoughts like he was somehow actually IN the book, as it was about dragons. That was impossible though. He looked around and saw people either frozen or running around, away from the creature. Those people were not in his book. The girls were the same ones who gathered around the tree, unless they got somehow pulled into the book too. Even more impossible. The skinny teen was extremely confused right now but that confusion had yet to slip into fear.

He caught two boys older than him also running, two boys he hadn't thought were crazy. He finally and completely came back to Earth when he had a sudden cramp in his right hand. NOW he was scared. Was he having an attack? Dropping the book, he fumbled in his pocket for the phone his mom made him carry everywhere.

Maris still stood where she was, and she watched as the gentleman pulled the blind person along with him in his race to get out of here. She, herself, wanted to run, but her feet were positively glued to the sidewalk on which she stood. The young girl bit her lip to hold back the scream that rose up in her throat. She tried to move and follow the two men out of there, but she was panicking because she still couldn't move.

The sharp intensity of the heat on her left wrist, however, broke her trance. She gave her bracelet a quick glance before taking a breath and running after the blind man and the gentleman. Hopefully, Maris would make it far away from here and closer to home.

As the sharp splash of Earl Gray tea wetting the grass, and the Styrofoam cup crumbled squishingly as it connected with the ground, came to be heard by his sensitive ears, Falke had decided enough was enough. With the primal alien like screech in the distant, people freaking out all over, and the situation around him just didn't feel right in the slightest (but it just wasn't New York weirdness); it was time to go. He was half turned around to leave, when the stranger he'd spoken to firmly clamped his hand around his wrist and commanded him to 'Come on' with a sharp bark. Before he could protest, or get a full explanation of what was going on, he was tugged about the other direction fully and dragged forward into a run. He barely managed to keep himself from face-planting those first few steps, and only with a few persistent staggering steps in, he managed to collect his feet underneath him and run truly. And he could run when needed ably enough, it wasn't a past time for him however regarding his ability to find things to run into easily.

As another girl, one of those that had been front and center to the happenings, caught up to the stranger and his own mad race to get out of there whilst they could. He bit down a bitter remark after her question, didn't she see the 'sunglasses'? Whatever. But merely shrugged rather meekly in answer, he couldn't see what /it/ was - but he knew what the stranger had told him and listening to the bug-like alien-ish screeches, clicks, clacks, and such, /it/ wasn't likely a stuff'd animal or something fluffy, nice, and not likely to eat them.

“Well get something!” Tallyho hissed as she broke from the young man’s grip and veered off towards the right of the beast. The cyclopean wasn’t exactly paying attention to her, however. It kept its sights on the other two. Without sound, it broke into a manic dash towards the two, its teeth clicked rapidly.
Tallyho found that as her opportunity. She had to kill it right then and she wasn’t going to stop until it was dead. She was always taught that letting a cyclopean roam free was just like killing five people. The blonde hurried across the grass trying to make as little sound as possible as she went.
Once she got a hold of the knife she looked back to check how far the beast had gotten. Really, the cyclopean was very unorganized. It abandoned its quest for the two teens and went running after a group consisting of the other young people who had run off earlier.
“Hey! Come back.”

The cyclopean kept going. It wasn’t until her third taunt that the creature turned to her. Tallyho gripped the knife and narrowed her eyes. The sun was setting and the light tore through them like a march of madmen. The silhouette of the cyclopean turned and finally, it came running. She locked her sights on its chest, where the heart was and held the lifted the knife. The dull, useless knife. She sprinted forward and prayed to feel the squishy bruised flesh protecting the heart’s cavity.
She didn’t even feel its breath on her neck. She took another step forward and squealed in pain. She stepped into a heaping pile of…black glass? She knelt down and took one of the shards, held it up to examine it in the light, but no light came through.
“Onyx…”
An odd sensation engulfed her. Her heart dropped and she felt like she was falling. She was positive that her eyes were open but all she could see was black.
Then she felt the ground beneath her. Laying face up she opened her eyes to see stars, bright white stars, long yellow streaks, and strawberry milk gas clouds. She stood up, dazzled and panicked. The floor was cold, almost marble like. It was a transparent pink but all she could see below her were lights and planets.
Then she scanned her general vicinity. Each of the young people from before were sprawled out on the dreamy pink path way. Even the ones who ran.
“Why… I’m not too sure what going on,” Tallyho mumbled. At least she meant to. Her voice was amplified, and echoed.

Dorian came back to reality slowly, eyes taking in the insanity around him without actually comprehending what was going on. The last thing he remembered... The last thing he remembered was running from that thing and then he'd been falling, somehow. His brain was finally catching up with the sudden scenery jump, and he sat up in a sudden motion, finally seeing but still not understanding a sky above him that looked like it had been painted by a particularly artistic six-year-old girl.
He looked around himself and saw all of those people from the park- the little girl, the blind boy he'd been running with, even the girl from the tree who had apparently just spoken. It was like he was in a dream, a painfully realistic dream and he wasn't waking up.

A slight tired groan escaped Anagenisi, as she rolled on her side of what appeared to be a hard ground, not the grass she was standing on not long ago. Her brain was frazzled, all she remembered was watching the girl from teh tree plunger the weak butter knife into the beast, ad then a sudden feeling of falling and slipping into black. She squeezed her clear blue eyes shut tight and pushed herself up from the ground, and into a stance. Her eyes wandered around the confusing space, it seemed like a little child's dream, where they would run away and maybe escape. Looking down at the ground, she noticed the people from the park, and now her head seemed to throb with confusion, yet she noticed two were conscious, the girl from the tree and a boy who she thought was on a bench before. Shaking her head a bit, a to get her eyes straight she realized, thsi wasn't any dream. But at the same time, was this even a reality?

Raymond quickly sat up with a heavy exhale as if he'd been participating in an extended breathing contest and the first thing he did was examine that contents of the bowl he had been clenching tightly in his right had " oh thank god..it was just a nightmare " last thing he remembered was passing out in his flat, one bedroom dumpy apartment after smoking one too many bowls by himself and in his nightmare he had completely run out of weed. He breathed a sigh of relief because he could still feel a dime sack in his pockets and there was plenty of resin packed in the bowl to get him by before he had to burn the last of it so everything was perfect, but then he began to look around frantically for his lighter and realized he was no longer in his own apartment, instead he was surrounded by a bunch of strangers in some kind of dreamscape the lead him to believe he still dreaming or still hardcore tripping.

He quickly scrambled to his feet, dusted the ashes off his pants and made his way over the few strangers that were awake, he still reeked or marijuana and his eyes were bloodshot. " Am I still tripping or am I still dreaming? " he asked surprisingly coherently which made him think he was most likely still dreaming because as far as he could tell he had come down completely from his previous high.

Dorian brought himself slowly to his feet, still trying to wrap his mind around what had just happened. So no one knew where they were, not even the strange girl who'd known what that monster was. And he was most definitely not tripping like the boy who probably hadn't been at the park probably was. His brushed some non-existant dirt off of his pants. The light was the only thing that stood out, even if he had no idea where it was.
"I have no idea what's going on," He said bluntly and then added in his same, cold tone, "I think we should go." Then, without checking to see if anyone would follow him, started towards the light.