A Connection

WARNING: THIS STORY CONTAINS MILD GORE AND SLIGHT VIOLENCE AND DEPICTIONS OF SELF-LOATHING
Note: This is a scavenger story which relates events on Pyrrhia to the lives on random people on our earth. I will be writing this from scratch so it may not be the greatest. Any OCs featured are mine. PLEASE DO NOT STEAL OR EDIT. If you find any mistakes just comment about them and I will fix them. Also if any of you have ideas for alternate plots or just thoughts on where this is going, I would love to know in the comments.
PROLOGUE
Johnson glanced back at the young teen who was sitting across the desk from him. He wondered why someone would be interested in his archaeology now after all these years. Johnson spun back to face the boy and cleared his throat.
"So, is there something in particular that I could help you with? Or are you just here to snoop through my stuff?"
"I-uh, I am here to offer you a huge sum of money in return for some of your archaeological finds," the boy stuttered, as if he couldn't quite muster the confidence he needed.
"Why? It doesn't make much sense to me that a young boy should be interested in such relics. You're obviously involved in something deeper than buying a few rusty pieces of history." Johnson leaned forward to peer into the boys eyes. "Well, what is it? Why do you want my stuff?"
"Sir, I have heard various stories about you having a hoard of archaeological abnormalities, and as I have already said, I have come offering a large sum of money for them," the boy replied, coughing nervously.
"So you've said. Now answer my question."
The boy looked down at his feet.
”I want to donate it to a history museum, sir.”
“A history museum? Why would you do something like that? Anyone who wants to see my relics can ask me and I’ll show them,” Johnson responded, folding his arms over his chest.
”But you didn’t show me!” the boy blurted.
”I didn’t show you because you never asked.”
The boy opened his mouth, flustered, but no sound came out. Johnson sighed.
"Come on," he said reluctantly, motioning with his hand for the teen to follow. Johnson led the boy (his name was Clark) out the polished mahogany door of his office space and into the wide lustrous halls of his house. The house was huge. Everywhere paintings hung on walls and ankle deep carpets blanketed the floors of gorgeous rooms. Finally they passed a large window that spanned nearly from floor to ceiling. Outside the window sat a marble fountain and quiet well-kept lawns. Clark stood, mouth gaping. 
"Are you coming or are you just going to stare?" 
"Oh, right of course," Clark said, snapping out of the trance and following him. It was wasn't, however, until he took a second glance over his shoulder. Johnson soon drew near to a set of tall, heavy wooden doors. All up and down the woodwork ran etchings of various shapes, which Clark peered at curiously. 
"What are they?" he asked, leaning in to look closer. 
"Dragons," Johnson replied without glancing over. He quickly swung the door open and motioned for Clark to step inside. 
"Why?" the young teen queried, looking more intently at the woodwork. 
"Come on, we don't have all day," Johnson said, ignoring Clark's question. He led the boy into another long wooden corridor, barren of windows, where soft yellow lights along the floor cast a golden glow against the walls. Glass displays ran along the walls as far as the eye could see in either direction. On one side a pair of doors obscured the hallway, cracked open only slightly. Clark peered in through them and squinted, trying to sort out what he was seeing. His eyes landed on a glowing azure sword with a name engraved in the hilt. He turned to nudge the door open farther, hoping maybe he could see more of the strange weapon, but Johnson stepped forward and slammed the door shut. 
"Nothing in there concerns you," he snapped at Clark. He turned around and walked stiffly down the hall, stopping in front of a display case some ways down. "This is the only item that I would be willing to sell," Johnson stated, staring straight ahead as Clark caught up. Clark turned to see what he was staring at and gasped. Inside the case, delicately mounted, laid two ivory white staffs, The ends were polished and sharp and, they gleamed in the light of the showcase. 
"Is-is that real diamond? On the tips?" he sputtered, astonished. 
"Sure is," Johnson said, still staring ahead. "Take it or leave it." 
(2 hours afterwards) 
Clark stared at the yellow lines on the ground, trying to make out just exactly where the edge of the road was. His big brown and tan truck swerved dangerously close to the trees and he jerked on the wheel, trying desperately to stay on the street. His headlights glanced hopelessly off the thick fog that surrounded him on all sides. He looked over his shoulder once more just to assure himself that the priceless spears hadn't been harmed by all his reckless driving. Spears. That was what Johnson had said they were. The old man wouldn't say anything about where they came from. That didn't matter. Either way, he had gotten what he wanted. Clark laughed silently to himself. The old man was a fool. He couldn't believe that he had been able to pull his scheme off. Donated to a history museum! As if! He laughed again, thinking of the money the spears could make him. Real diamond! He might never have to work again. Clark turned back to the road only to glimpse the trunk of a tree directly in front of his headlights before it smashed through his car and everything went black. 
Beeeeeeeep! 
What was that? His alarm clock shouldn’t be going off. It was Saturday. Clark opened his eyes only to find he wasn’t tucked peacefully into bed after all. He lifted his head with what seemed to be a monstrous effort and found himself staring at a tree trunk embedded two feet deep in the hood of his truck. His head had been laying on the horn, bashed against the wheel due to the fact that his airbag had malfunctioned. Clark knew he was hurt. But he also knew he couldn’t feel pain yet, since his adrenaline was surging intensely. He threw the truck door open and fell out, shaking on the ground in a rush of panic. He realized he probably looked terrible but that didn’t exactly matter because there was no one around to see how he looked. Even more so, there was no one to help him. Flashing lights and blaring sirens filled the air a moment later but Clark suddenly remembered something. Something important. He threw his limp arms over the edge of the shattered truck bed and glared fearfully at the spot where the spears should’ve sat. Gone. The one thing that actually mattered was now probably sitting broken in pieces somewhere on the road behind him or within the forest in front of him. The last thing he was conscious of before he collapsed was the presence of first responders finally arriving and then all went black. 
CHAPTER 1 
ERIN 
(14 years later) 
Erin shivered, burying her head in her arms, and stared gloomily out the window. It seemed the sky outside was attempting to match her mood since the clouds rumbled with incessant thunder and rain pattered down the window in front of her. She was bewildered on how a day destined to be perfect one second could turn into a nightmare the very next. The door behind her squeaked quietly on its hinges and someone with heavy footsteps entered the room a few seconds later. She turned to meet them, hoping maybe it was her mother come to offer soothing advice or silent comfort. It wasn’t. It was Warren. Of course it would be. Erin would never say she hated anyone but if she had ever come close to hating anyone it was definitely Warren. Everything about him made her cringe. Her mind nearly flew into a list of things about him that bugged her just to take her attention away from his perfect mask of a face that was the only feature that covered his annoying personality. However, she didn’t let herself stoop to nitpick his character quality today. Today was just too horrible. The day had started like every perfectly good day. It began with a long and well worth it drive to see her old and eccentric Uncle Johnson. While he wasn’t exactly the youngest person in the neighborhood he certainly acted as if he was still in the prime of his youth. Besides his seemingly unending source of vitality he was also a very agreeable and jovial person to be around. He would often sit in front of the enormous fireplace in one of the many living rooms of his house and tell hours of fascinating stories about his past or legends he had heard. However, Erin’s favorite part about going to visit him was seeing the hall of discoveries which held all sorts of interesting relics and treasures for Erin to look at. The only downside about going to see Uncle Johnson was that it meant she also had to be around Warren. She had often wished Warren didn’t live at her Uncle’s house but that really couldn’t be helped since Warren was technically Johnson’s adopted grandson. Erin knew the story of how that happened nearly by heart and this was how it was. Around fourteen years ago, right before she was born, a young man named Clark had come to visit Johnson in order to purchase archaeology and donate it to a museum. However, on his way back from Johnson’s house he crashed into a tree and not only lost the artifacts he had purchased but was also crippled to the point of needing a cane to support him anywhere he walked. Johnson had felt terrible about the accident and wanted to help Clark so he gave him a small sum of money to help him pay of his medical bills. For a few years Clark thrived. He got married, settled down, and had a son. Then tragedy struck when his wife was in labor with his first daughter. Something had gone horribly awry and the accident stole the life of his newborn daughter and spouse. Clark had tried to sue the doctors for this accident but since nothing could be proved he actually ended up losing money on the case instead of gaining any. Things went so badly afterwards that it got to the point where Clark and his son Warren were living in their car, parked in a camping ground. When Johnson found that out, he took Clark under his wing and brought him and his son to live in his own house. Which was how Warren had come to live in Johnson’s huge house, pampered out of his mind. If Erin was being honest, she felt bad for disliking Warren, but just because he had had a bad start to his life didn’t mean he had to be a total jerk to her twenty-four seven. She had tried being nice to him, tried to be his friend but he had merely rejected her, saying he was much too good to ever be friends with a mere commoner such as herself. That had been seven years ago. He hadn’t gotten any nicer since then. For the record, Erin also didn’t trust his father, who always seemed to have something shifty going on behind his eyes. He constantly seemed to be summing up the value of the furniture around him like he would smuggle it if he ever found a way. Erin snapped herself out of thought and instantly wished she hadn’t. It all came flooding back. Arriving at Uncle Johnson’s house only to find a swarm of police cars surrounding the building and small groups of policemen heading every which way around the mansion as if they were desperately searching for something. Seeing the look of panic on her mother’s face. Asking the someone what had happened. All of it brought a sickening feeling to her stomach. 
”Mr. Johnson has gone missing,” was the only answer they had gotten from the police. Her mother had gone inside the house to talk with Clark or Mr. Dannson as he was known more formally. Erin sat nearby as Clark spilled out the entire story. Mr. Dannson and Warren had gotten up to breakfast as they did every day but something seemed unusually quiet about the house today. Warren had gone to check on Johnson and had found his room empty. It had been scary, seeing the room so tidy it appeared that no one had ever lived there before. As it soon turned out he was no where to be found on the property or the garden around his property. Clark had dialed the police, not wanting to treat the matter lightly since something serious might have actually happened. It wasn’t until they tried calling him that they became really concerned. A low buzzing echoed from the closet in Johnson’s room. To afraid of what they might find, the Dannson’s had asked the police to search the closet for them. The police had found no trace of Johnson. All that was to be found was a buzzing cellphone, with an incoming call from Clark. It seemed Johnson had disappeared without and trace and no one seemed to know where he had gone. 
CHAPTER 2 
WARREN 
Warren stated at Erin where she sat and shuffled uncomfortably. She stared gloomily out the window as if she hadn’t heard him come in but he knew she had. She had turned her head to him when he walked in, but as soon as she saw it was only him she had jerked away like she despised what she saw there. Warren didn’t blame her. He despised what he saw there too. He couldn’t wipe the image of her in tears out of his mind. That image from the fateful day seven years ago. They had only been little kids of seven and eight but at that point in time they had been completely different people. Erin was a bubbly little fountain of sparkles who believed everyone was going to be her friend. Warren… well he was conceited. Who wouldn’t be when they were given an entire mansion to free roam about and treated like royalty by everyone in sight? Even though he couldn’t remember his mother and his father was a cripple he had still felt like he was just… better. He had been speaking out of belief rather than true emotion when he told the girl with sparkling eyes that he wouldn’t be her friend. He truly thought that a girl of low standards didn’t deserve to be friends with someone who owned an entire mansion. He had wanted to be her friend. He was just… mislead. He had spent his entire life of eight years hearing about how he was going to be rich someday and how he didn’t need to stoop to interact with people outside his “circle”. He wished he had closed his ears to the false wisdom that came from his hard-hearted father. Had he been a wiser child he would still be friends with Erin. But he had messed it all up and he had no idea how to fix it. It didn’t matter what he tried to say to her, it always came out wrong. Friendly teasing was turned into heartless mocking in the perception of Erin. There was nothing he could do to ever repair the broken connection they had. He walked closer to her now thinking that maybe he at least could take her mind of the disappearance of her beloved uncle. 
”Um,” he stuttered and she spun around to glare at him, her eyebrows raised. “Are you alright?” 
”Of course I’m not alright!” she shouted and then took a deep breath, obviously trying to calm herself. “It’s not like you care anyways,” she muttered turning back to face the window. 
But I DO care, thought Warren with a wrenching pain in his chest. He glanced down sadly at the bowl of caramels he had brought in to cheer her up. He had known for a while now that these were her favorite and when he had heard she was coming he had bought some even though he realized she would never accept them from him. She thought everything he did was a trick. He set them down quietly on the coffee table behind her, sitting down on one of the sofas in the room as he did so. He heard her sigh deeply and then she stood up, frustration showing in her blue eyes as she turned to face him. A few lone tears streaked down her pale face but she scrubbed them vigorously away with the back of her hand. 
”Do you think you could maybe leave? I’m kind of trying to have a moment alone now,” she said neither rudely nor kindly. 
”I-I’m,” he sputtered, wanting truly to say that he was sorry but not quite finding the strength to do so. 
”You’re what?” Erin asked. 
”I just didn’t want to be out there with all the police searching. You know?” 
”I guess,” she replied none to kindly. “You know what, I’m just gonna-“ she began open-endedly as if she didn’t intend on saying exactly what she was going to do. She walked over to the bowl of caramels and plucked a few out before walking over to the door with her hoodie pulled up over her head. 
”Where are you going?” he asked, pain flaring within himself at the knowledge that she couldn’t even bear to be in the same room as him. 
”Outside,” she answered flatly. 
”You shouldn’t though, it’s not-“ 
”Right, it’s not what you want me to do. Well, guess what, you’re not in charge of me. Just because you say you “own” this house or whatever crazy thing you think doesn’t mean you can just boss me around,” she snapped, interrupting him before he could say “it’s not safe”. 
”That’s not what-“ 
”Goodbye,” she said without giving him a chance to speak. She spun away and slammed door, her footsteps echoing away down the hall. Immediately afterwards his mind began spinning in anxiety. All the bad things which could possibly happen were spilling through his head. What if Grandpa had been murdered? Would whoever killed him be waiting to kill Erin? What if it was something without a logical explanation? Something like a scenario in those fantasy books he read. He finally couldn’t take it anymore and grabbed his jacket before stuffing the rest of caramels into his pocket. He headed out the door just in time to see her disappear into the woods on the southern end of Johnson’s property. He bolted after her and then stopped himself once he made it to the woods entrance. If she wasn’t really hurt or in danger she would hate him for following her, excuse or no excuse. He entered the woods, keeping his pace slow and making sure he kept to dry ground rather than letting his feet splash through the mud which lay in thick puddles here and there. He followed the thin path in front of him which technically didn’t deserve to be called a path since it was no more than a shallow line of pale soil showing through the grass. He doubted anyone had even walked through here for at least two decades. Above the treetops the rain pattered relentlessly and occasionally five bucketfuls of water dumped on his head and thoroughly soaking him. He pushed his hands deeper into his pockets and picked up his pace trying to at least catch a glimpse of Erin. Presently a thick fog rolled in and shrouded the woods in ghostly pale wreaths of mist. Coming around a bend he stopped himself just on time since Erin had disappeared around a tree not three feet away from him. He quietly took a few steps closer. Then his heart stopped. Cold fear leaked through into his stomach as the sound reached his ears. It bit stingingly into his ears and made his head throb. Erin was screaming. His legs had refused to move and nearly fell forward onto his face before he pulled himself forward to the tree. Her scream cut off abruptly as he came around the tree. In terror he looked around and a growing realization came upon him. Erin had disappeared. She was no where in sight. It was as if she had cried out and then vanished into thin air. Warren felt sick. 
CHAPTER 3 
ERIN 
Erin trudged through the woods feeling only slightly guilty for the way she had treated Warren. He probably hadn’t even listened to her responses anyways. Yet, there was still some kind of tiny pricking in her chest that made her wish he wasn’t a jerk. It made her wish they could’ve just been friends. That was never going to happen though. Warren would never be anything but a self-satisfied jerk. He played it cool like he was really not so bad, but she knew he was mocking her. She could feel it. Erin drew her arms closer around herself and held back the tears in her burning eyes. Why did everything have to go so wrong? Subconsciously, Erin became aware of the sensation that someone was watching her. She picked up her pace and quickly stepped behind the tree which obstructed the path in front of her. Tripping on the roots of the tree, one of her shoes came undone and she fell forward, her knee making sharp impact with the ground beneath her. Instantly sharp pain flared up into her knee and she cried out. The pain did not subside, however, but grew continuously worse. A small pool of blood thickened on the ground beneath her. She tried to stand up but suddenly became aware of a freezing chill working its way up her leg. She glanced down in horror, and saw a growing film of ice encasing itself over her leg. She tried to scream again but the ice shot up her leg and over her chest, freezing her diaphragm and stopping her breath. She felt her heart slowly cease beating and then ice scattered over her eyes and everything went black. 
The world stopped. Everything hung distantly in a slow fading motion. There was nothing. Then suddenly a sharp pain pressed in her chest. Warmth. A cool, weak heat spread over her body and she became aware of her heartbeat once more. Cold, stinging air filled her lungs and her body was freed from the stiffening bonds which held it. Confused, Erin tumbled backwards onto a solid, icy surface. She blinked multiple times, waiting for light to reach her eyes. Something large and cold gently nudged her back to her feet and she squinted, her vision finally growing clear. All at once her thoughts became smooth and fluid again, and a feeling of rising panic began to rise in her chest. As her vision gave way, she saw all around her walls of sheer, cold ice surrounding her. Icy blue objects were scattered around the cold floor and she turned to stare harder at them. For a solid moment her saliva froze in her throat and she nearly jumped backwards from what seemed to be the immense forms of DRAGONS. Then she shook her head and realized that they were merely glittering statues of dragons and not really alive at all. She turned back to what she had expected to be empty space in front of her and saw another huge pale blue talon resting on the ground directly beside her. 
It’s just another statue, she told her pounding heart, as she lifted her head to affirm her thoughts. Suddenly the looming form of the icy statue bent down at peered at her with deep ocean blue eyes. Erin gasped and then fell backwards. She tore at her arm with her nails hoping desperately that this was some kind of wacky dream and she was really just about to wake up. Then abruptly and very much without warning, her eyes opened. She found herself waking up and she nearly cried out in relief when she realized she wasn’t in bed. The icy blue walls flared in her eyes again and she realized in shock that she had fainted. The ice dragon, which was very much real and not a statue as the others were, was bending over her a whole lot closer than she would’ve liked. Her mind was spinning as to how she had gotten here but at the moment that was the least of her concern since she was probably about to die. She clenched her eyes shut and stiffened her body, waiting for the huge jaws to shut and squeeze all the life out of her. She nearly yelped when cold smooth talons closed over her midsection and neatly lifted her off the ground. She bit down on her tongue and slowly opened her eyes only to see she was face to face with the pale dragon again. It’s bright blue eyes burned into her soul and she looked away not sure how to react. A low growl echoed through the room and looking up again, Erin realized that it hadn’t come from the pale dragon. The sound of claws scraping on ice caught her attention and her head snapped over towards the direction of the sound. Another dragon. Erin wondered whether she would die from heart failure or being eaten first. The second dragon was as dark as a moonless night and her milky green eyes flashed malevolently in the dark room. 
 
 
Category:Fanfictions (Incomplete)
Category:Fanfictions
Category:Fanfictions (Fanon)