Souls of Fire (3 page)

Here it is!
I thought, a peculiar sensation stirring in my gut; a mixture of excitement and fear. I stared down at the title of one of the many college classes up for selection:

‘Paranormal Phenomena in Today’s Society’

In a nutshell
, I thought, absent-mindedly twirling my hair around my fore- and middle finger. My gaze shifted to the right and came to rest upon the name of the professor who would teach this class:

Aaron Chambers

A chill ran down my spine at the exact same moment that my heart skipped several beats.

What is
wrong
with me today?
I asked myself not for the first time this morning, clawing at my hair in frustration, a habit I had unfortunately picked up sometime during my childhood and had never been able to throw off since. With all the frustration I’d gone through in my teens up until this day, it was a wonder I still had hair.

Letting out a long sigh, I closed my eyes and tried to relax a bit. I was so freaked out about the mysterious transformation of my birthmark that I couldn’t think straight anymore. I gathered my balance must be so off that my body reacted to every little thing I focused on and sent completely scrambled signals to my brain.

I concentrated on breathing, pulling the air slowly into my lungs and letting it linger there for a few measured moments before slowly and evenly pushing it back out.

Aaah … that felt good,
I sighed internally, letting go of the tension that had taken hold of my entire body as well as my mind. I was determined not to let my thoughts linger on my birthmark and to completely ignore any reactions my body might hold in store for me today. I just couldn’t trust myself at the moment!

After carefully getting to my feet and making sure my legs had stopped shaking, I crossed the length of my room and grabbed the suitcase I had deposited next to my bed after having packed it haphazardly the night before, having left it to nearly the last minute as I always did whenever I went on a trip.

Although I had at first felt some trepidation at the thought of living on campus, I’d gradually warmed to the idea of ‘broadening my horizon’ and ‘making new experiences’, as my mother and father would put it, and now actually felt almost excited about this new development in my to date rather uneventful life.

Still, I felt unsure about my ability to be a good roommate. I loved my privacy, my own personal space where I could roll up into a ball and lie for hours immersed in my reading or just thinking about things that occupied my mind.

Number one
, I thought,
work on your people skills, and at least try to keep up a semblance of social behavior!
Number two
, the thought immediately followed the first,
don’t try too hard or you’ll look like an idiot!!!

Hmmm, some things might be better left alone
, I sighed, thinking of my chances of actually making friends at college. I tended to always say the wrong things and in general never knew what pleased other people. And since I hadn’t changed in the least since finishing school, I didn’t know why that should suddenly change.

Heading for the door, suitcase in hand, bag slung over my shoulder and my coat hanging over my arm, I took a last intense look around my room, my gaze slowly roaming over everything I had known and loved my entire life, trying to determine whether I’d forgotten to pack something of vital importance.

The morning sunlight slanted into the room through the window above my favorite perch, revealing a line of swirling dust motes, lending a soft white glow to the white see-through curtains, highlighting the radiant colors and soft pastel hues of my throw pillows, and throwing multi-colored reflections from a stained-glass pendant against the bare wooden planks of my bedroom floor.

My beautiful bronze-colored wrought-iron bed with its delicately interlacing design stood in the middle between the door and the window with its headpiece against the right wall. It was neatly made up and covered with my favorite quilt.

My stuffed animals ― remnants of my childhood ― sat cuddled together on the center of the bed, looking in my direction as if to bid me farewell. On the left side of the wall opposite the bed and next to the door leading to my own small bathroom, stood my tall silver mirror.

Most of my belongings were neatly stashed away inside the walk-in closet that lined the wall next to the entryway, or in pastel-colored vintage style boxes of different shapes and sizes spaced throughout the room.

But some of my clothing was draped over the back of my chair; my desk ― which stood to the right on the wall opposite my bed ― had a rather cluttered air about it, and two bits of crumpled paper were strewn across the floor next to the garbage bin, all together giving the room a lived-in feel.

Satisfied that I had everything I needed, but with the usual odd feeling of having forgotten something of vital importance, I stepped into the hallway, turning my back and closing the door on my bedroom. Little did I know that I had just glimpsed it for the last time…

It hadn’t been more than a few hours’ drive, but my body felt as if I had sat on the bus for days rather than hours. The bus had been full of young people riding to college that morning, and the uncomfortable cramped seats did little to keep my body from aching all over due to the inability to stretch my legs.

There would be no classes on the first day, giving the students a whole day of orientation in which they were presented with class schedules, the layout of the campus, received information about their dorms and room-numbers and last, but not least, got to meet their roommates.

I got off the bus, picked up my suitcase from the luggage compartment on the side of the vehicle and walked toward the registration office to get the information I needed. I joined the long line of waiting students outside the office and took a good look around, wondering if my new roommate was among them.

Thirty minutes later, I was standing outside the door to my appointed dorm room on the third floor, wondering whether to use my key or knock politely, in case my roommate was already there. Staring at the number on the door ― 311 ― I raised my fisted hand and rapped lightly. There was no answer, so I took out my key and unlocked the door.

Stepping inside, I was surprised to see how nice the room looked. Empty and bare as it was, due to the absence of personal items, it, nevertheless, had an invitingly open and light air to it. In the center of the opposite wall, right between the two beds, was a white, high arched window with a broad ledge on the inside that served as a seat.

The double doors of the floor-to-ceiling window led to a small balcony ― enclosed by a black wrought-iron railing ― that could be reached by climbing over the window seat. Opposite the beds were a desk and chair for each student, and to the right of the entrance was a small refrigerator used to stash away snacks that had to be kept cold.

I walked over to the right bed and plunked my suitcase down on top of the bare mattress. In about thirty minutes, I’d finished depositing all my clothing as well as my empty suitcase in the built-in closet next to my bed, and was about to go looking for the girls’ bathroom down the hall, when there was a sharp rap on the door.

Anticipating the arrival of my roommate, I swiftly smoothed out my blouse and took a deep calming breath before answering.

“Come in,” I croaked, my voice displaying the awkwardness I always felt when meeting strangers.

I wasn’t prepared for the person who opened the door. One short glimpse of the woman was enough for me to see that this could not be my roommate.

A woman of fifty years or older was standing in the open door, looking just as awkward as I felt. Her hair was pulled back tightly into a bun, its brilliant bronze color turning grey in some areas. She was wearing a conservative looking ensemble and, all in all, looked like a very stern woman.

The clearly discernible look of distaste she wore suggested that she had more important things to do than whatever had brought her to my door and that she didn’t appreciate it in the least having to perform such a menial task.

“I’m here to inform you, Miss Jones, that you will not be sharing your room. The student who was to be your roommate evidently had grander plans than attending college. Seeing as all the other students already have their rooms appointed to them, you will, therefore, have the room to yourself, at least for this semester.

Now, if you will kindly excuse me, I have more important things to get on with. Good day to you, Miss Jones,” she added in a cold and superior tone, clearly turning her nose up at me.

Sour grapes,
I thought. I understood that the woman might have pressing matters that occupied her time, but for the life of me, I would never understand how some people could be so terribly rude and unfriendly without cause!

Not even one comforting line of ‘Welcome to College, I hope you will feel at home here soon’. Come to think of it, I didn’t even hear a ‘hello’. The woman couldn’t care less; students come and go, why should she care? I’d thought adults, at least, were grown-up enough to be capable of civil behavior. I’d undoubtedly been wrong!

So, my roommate had run away screaming before she even met me!

Well, that was a first,
I pondered, not really depressed by the thought of not having to share my own personal space with a stranger. This development suited me just fine!

I opened the double doors of the window to let in some fresh air, and immediately decided that I just
had
to take in the view from the balcony. I climbed carefully over the ledge and got to my feet. The balcony was so small that there was just room enough for two people standing side by side. Pressed up against the railing, I gazed around.

My room was on the third and uppermost floor, high enough to give me a little anxiety about the railing not being secure enough. The dorm buildings stretched out to both sides.

There were three dorm buildings altogether, situated about half a mile from the college. The three buildings came together creating a U-shape, the balcony I stood on being at the center of the U’s shortest line.

Ahead of me, and between the other two buildings, there was a little park, in which the students could go for strolls; the park was probably also a popular area for social gatherings such as parties or barbeques.

There were a number of benches set around it, and a couple of trees stood on the lawn.  Most of them were small and insignificant. Yet one of them caught my eye.

It was an enormous oak that stood tall and proud in the center of the park. Judging by its height and the size of its trunk, it was a very old oak, probably hundreds of years old. Its leaves stood out against the clear blue sky in a rainbow of colors.

Every now and then, a leaf would sail downward to its temporary resting place among its already fallen brothers and sisters, covering the ground at the oak’s feet with shades of red, orange, brown, and yellow, and waiting to be carried away with the next gust of air.

A figure was leaning against the trunk of the oak, apparently oblivious to the slightly wet grass or the light chill in the air. From the balcony, I couldn’t make out any features or even the gender with the branches obscuring my view. Yet somehow I rather
felt
the person to be masculine.

Suddenly my vision started to blur, the colorful leaves swimming before my eyes. My fingers gripped the railing and dug themselves into the iron as an overwhelming wrenching sensation seized my whole body, making my knees buckle and nearly sending me off the edge of the balcony.

As suddenly as it had occurred, the uncontrollable feeling evaporated, leaving me breathless and shocked out of my senses, adrenaline rushing through every fiber of my being.

As the adrenaline subsided, my weak knees could no longer support my trembling body, and I slumped down to the floor of my balcony, unable to move for several heartbeats.

Chapter 2
*
Desire

T
he following morning I got up at seven o’clock and spent the next thirty minutes standing under the scalding hot stream of water pouring down from the showerhead in the girls’ communal bathroom.

Letting the water flow over my tired body, the heat slowly seeping into my bones and making my body’s tensed muscles relax a bit, I almost felt human again ― almost.

An hour later, I was sitting alone at a small table in a corner of the crowded cafeteria, listlessly munching on a stale half of an onion bagel with cheese and sipping a cup of strong coffee with milk, letting the caffeine run through my system and slowly revitalize my foggy brain.

I really hadn’t slept well! With any luck, I’d be able to understand most of what the psychology professor would be teaching in class in twenty minutes’ time, I thought.
Then again, maybe not!