The catalyst of my re-awakening was My 'brush' with the supernatural. Needless to say, it changed me in ways that I hoped I would never have to see again. But now, I just don't have the will to care if I do see it again. I will probably only do the same as I did then, once more. I would say that I hope I am not "singled out" for this one, but I really don't care if I am or not.
When I was little, I always knew I was more different than most would know. I was about six years old, when this came along.
I was sitting in the local cemetery, at the grave of a good friend of mine, who had died of old age (there is a little irony, in my opinion). I had been there for hours, trying to think, and trying to rest, since I couldn't rest while I was at my house. I remember sitting against his head stone, like I still often tend to do, even now. When I began to drift off to sleep, I heard the revving of a car engine, and my first instinct was to open my eyes. I knew someone was coming, but I had my back turned to the driveway, so I had no way of seeing anything there, anyway.
Moments later, I heard a car pull in the driveway, and the doors opened and then slammed shut. Until these idiots (for lack of a better term) had showed up, I was having no problem controlling my thoughts or hearing the thoughts of others. I know that, because no sooner did they reach the gate, I began hearing their thoughts - I knew it was their thoughts I was hearing, because all but one of them mentioned Me in their minds. I knew they were looking for me, but how I knew was beyond me. I suppose it's just one of those instinctual things.
The first voice I heard, even through the chatter, I think was the 'ring leader' of the bunch. But it's been so many years, I can barely remmeber him, anymore. All he said was "what the f*** is a Kid doing in a place like this? That little f***er must be twisted as Hell."
Thinking about it, now, I've always been the same. I only put on a guise, to make people think that I seem like them, even though it never really works.
At the time, I was still small enough that I could easily hide amongst the stones of the graveyard. I don't know why I didn't, but I think it was most likely my predatory nature that made me follow my instincts to face them. Anyone who looked at these punks could tell that they were as cold as me, and back then, they would have been many times more dark than I was. But now, I'm not so sure that would be the case.
I probably should have tried to run away when I saw them, but it was almost as if I had the wieght of a damn dump truck covering the whole of my body. I knew I could easily get away, and lose them, but there was something driving me to face them, and just get it over with. But once I saw these punks drawing their guns (about five or six, in all, if my memory serves me well) that was more or less the breaking point of it all, for me. The closest one to me was holding a twelve gage pump action, and I was staring right into the bleeding barrel. If I were "normal", I would wonder what possessed them to bring so much firepower, just to kill a kid.
Staring down the barrel of that shotgun (as if that weren't enough) had me feeling completely frozen to the bone. Even when I saw the damn thing light up like a supernova, I felt like I was frozen in place. At that age, I'm almost surprised that I wasn't scared shitless, to the point of crying my eyes out. At least, I think that's what happens to children that age, when they're afraid.
What brought everything on, completely, was what happened when I saw the gun actually go off. For me, it was as if time had stopped entirely. Beyond seeing the light from the barrel, I don't remember a whole hell of a lot, besides seeing the one holding it flying through the air, into one of the head stones. Whatever it was that hit him used enough force to actually make the stone crumble, like it was hit by a wrecking ball or an anvil.
After that, the only thing I remember was hearing an extremely deep voice, speaking to me, and I know that the others heard it, too. I know that, because I still remember the look in their eyes when the voice spoke. All I heard was--
"Open thy eyes, and unleash thy soul, uncle."
I had no conscious idea who it was, or what it meant, but a split second later, I felt something that I hadn't felt for years since, until the day my only mentor died. I could feel my entire body changing (obviously, nothing as one would see in movies. But it was still a profound change.)
My fingers seemed to grow longer, and I recall them becoming extremely bony and stiff, like the branches of an oak tree. I felt my body turning rigid, and the next thing I knew, I was stading on top of the cross, which stood dead-center in the lawn. After that, the only thing I recall was standing on the cross, cleanching the throat of the one who led the group.
I still do remember seeing my reflection in his eyes, though. It felt as though I had the vision of a hawk, which go figure, as it had become cloudy as a tornado - I don't know what the time span was in all of this - I could see everything perfectly. I could see my own eyes had turned pitch-black, and it seemed like someoen could put their fingers directly into my skull, and curled them around without even touching the bone.
I could feel his heartbeat, each second, constantly slowing down, even though know i didn't have much of a grip on him. Judging as an adult, I would say it was just enough strength to keep him in the air. I watched his eyes, as his skin turned color, from what seemed like an extreme tan to a pale grayish-black, and his flesh shrivelled up, like burning leather. After that, everything went dark again, until I heard a loud thud. I came to, for only a few moments, and I was still standing on top of the cross. For some reason, I knew exactly what was going on, but I couldn't control myself, at all. It was like being a big puppet, and someone or something else was controlling the strings.
I closed my eyes for only a moment, and then it felt like I was in a mine, setting off their explosives. It sounded like the explosion of a mine, too. When I opened my eyes, I found myself in a crater that seemed about the size of my old room. It must have been about fifteen feet wide, and at least a few feet deep. The earth around me was covered in ash and rubble, at this point. After that, everything went black again.
I woke up in my room, the next day, and I thought the whole thing was just a crazy dream, or a nightmare. Unfortunately, when I went back to the cemetery, I found out that I couldn't have been more wrong. The crater I made was still there, and the whole place looked like it had been hit by a plethora of grenades. Even the top and one arm of the cross had crumbled to the ground, and it stood jaggedly, out of the ground. I fell to my knees, seeing that, and all I could do was scream my lungs out. Everyone knew something had happened there, but only one person saw anything, and go figure, it had to be the caretaker of the cemetery. Luckily, he agreed not to tell anyone what he saw, under the condition that I come by each evening, to help him clean up the mess.
For what brought me to my re-awakening, that is all she wrote. And for me, it was worse than any nightmare a "normal" person could ever have. The caretaker is now, long-since dead and gone, but in the ground, the cemetery still carries the mark of what I did. The entire area around the cross is nothing but barren earth, now, and not even grass can grow, there.
Needless to say, even now, no one in that town will tangle with me. Probably because they can sense that there is some kind of connection between me and the damage that was done to the grounds of that cemetery. Every person there is scared to death of me.
