The Pinnicle of Iden | Teen Ink

The Pinnicle of Iden

December 19, 2018
By Kaiden---, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania
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Kaiden---, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania
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Favorite Quote:
"Two dead boys got up to fight
Back to back, they faced each other
Drew their swords and shot each other"


Author's note:

The author may or may not write another part, but it all depends

As He opened the notebook, He begin to read the previous passages:


Who am I? This is a fair question, because it’s also the question I ask myself almost every weekday day in the morning, when I barely can see through my hazy eyes and my body feels numb. This happens at least every weekday, right before school begins. School. Ah yes, I remember now. I am late. This thought is confirmed by the alarm clock on my bedside drawer that reads “8:01.” Another perfect start to a perfect day, my mind groans as my motor functions begin to kick in. I sluggishly climb out of bed and get on the first pair of clothes I find, along with my trademark black hoodie with two horizontal, yellow stripe running across it like the line between two roads. I bring this up because my good friend Presley pointed this out, as he then tried to “walk across the road,” as any other human being would reasonably do.


Good memories.


Anyways, by this time, I pretty much sealed my fate by brushing my teeth for a full two minutes and getting on the road with a slab of burnt toast in hand after a total of 5 minutes getting ready, bringing us to 8:06 AM. This is now a good time to do some real explaining. My name is Iden, (pronounced like I-den) and my bestest friends are Presley and his wonderful followers: Kathryn, Marcus, and Samuel. I don’t ‘hate them,’ per say; But I do like to think they are the main reason most people snicker behind my back. Besides that, my life is so painfully normal it hurts. I have a little sister named Charlotte, but she’s only 5 at the moment, far too young to be left alone, so my mother hired somebody to watch her while she is gone. At this point, ironically, the babysitter is probably in the house more than my actual mother, who works at her job from 6 in the morning to 6 at night (but she normally stays out for an extra 3-4 hours to do some more work).


Even though the babysitter, (who says his name is King Edward, yeah right) is paid to watch us, he pretty much just sits and watches TV all the time. Every time anyone asks him anything, his response tends to be

“Sure, whatever,” or “I dunno, can you?” Because of this, I tend to care for Charlotte more than anyone else, helping her on her homework, making snacks, putting her to bed, etc. This leaves me with little to no time on my own, which also may or may not contribute to my lack of sleep and lack of homework.


Homework… what about that makes me shiver? I'm certainly not cold, nor am I angry… Oh yeah, I remember! I didn't do it! Gathering my thoughts, I recall the events of last night, when Charlotte got sick, and I had to help find medicine and make her feel better. While this was happening, Edward was on the couch, dozing off. When he wasn't doing this, he was watching TV, or fidgeting with his hands. I sometimes try to ask him to help, but he either doesn't respond, or responds with his two catchphrases: “Sure, whatever,” and “I dunno, can you?” Anyways, the fact I didn't do my nightly assigned work is nothing new, and I probably can make an excuse up when I get to school. This isn't the first time I’ve done this, and it surely won't be the last.


Is everyone caught up now? Good, because in the time it took to write this down, we’ve arrived at the scene of the crime, the school building. The building from the outside looks pristine, and generally, the rest of the school is, with very clean halls, spotless desks, and lockers without dents in them, but the people who inhabit the school is where things start to get weird.


For one thing, the principle is also one of the three district managers of the school area, who’s been filling in for about 4 years now, and he is not happy about it. From what I know, being your own boss means that you don’t really need to do too much, and instead hires a bunch of assistants with the school's eminence budget to do work for him. The only thing he legally has to do is to stay inside the school and provide announcements. To compensate for his boredom, he makes changes to the building frequently for example: painting random walls with colors that don’t match the silver and blue color pallet of the school, hiring and firing people off, blocking off hallways with wet floor signs, generally slacking off, or making fake announcements. What a guy.


Regardless, as soon as I get to my seat, I double check through everything I have; My homework binder, my textbooks, my pencil (I have had this one for less than a day and it’s already down to the tip) and, thing thing you are reading down, my therapy notebook (this is to keep myself sane while everyone around me slowly get more on my nerves). As soon as the lecture begins (it’s math, in case you were wondering), I pretty much tune out for the rest of the day. It’s not like I could have written down anything anyways, and I'm perfectly OK with getting straight C’s, it’s not like anyone would notice anyway. I go through the day like always, math fades into astrology, fades into biology, and so on.


When I get to the only class I have an A in, Literature, I feel a sudden shove on the back of my backpack. I turn around to face a black hooded figure, one who I've never seen before, speed walking in the opposite direction

“Hey,” I yell after it, as they continue to frantically waltz out and around the crowd, before disappearing like the audience of the 12th installment of a horror movie. I say that with quotes, because it was more of a waddle than anything. I check my bag and instead of finding a “kick me” note, I find a neatly folded note attached with scotch tape on my back. I take the note off gently, as to not rip it, and I begin to read it to myself in the middle of the halls;


YOU ARE INVITED

You Are Invited To A Fun Fun Party Which Will Include Activities Many, Good Fun. Good Fun. Please Arrive At 164, Pot, Lane, At 20:90 Sharp Sharp. Good Fun.


What? I reread the letter about five times before releasing this is supposed to be an invitation, to what is apparently a “fun fun party.” I look around one last time to see if anybody is around, laughing behind a wall or something, but all I see is the oncoming crowd of kids filing through the halls until only I am left, speechless and confused. I sit through the rest of class, dragging my confusion with me until the end of the day.


When the class ends, I try to follow where the figure went after it gave me the invitation, but when I turned the corner towards the end of its walk, there were a bunch of wet floor signs blocking the hall, completely undisturbed. Either this person was very careful not to touch anything, or never went this way at all. I try to ignore it as I traverse over to my locker, but a voice in my head keeps nagging me that this isn't right, but I try to ignore it. I leave the school with the other walking kids, and soon I’m back on my sidewalk path that leads out of the town and back near my house.


Arriving home, I take note that Edward is already on the couch, passed out, holding an energy drink. I decide to make Charlotte a snack, then start on my homework. About an hour or so later, I give up on the rest of my homework (it was mostly math & equations), and play with Charlotte instead, ordering some Chinese food for dinner between fake sips of tea. After dinner, I tuck Charlotte into bed and then get into my own.


At about 7:30, I realize that I am being consumed by my own curiosity. What kind of person says fun twice? Who would be throwing a party now? And most importantly, why did they invite me? I look up the address from the envelope on my phone and find out that it’s not too far away. I might as well at least see what this party is about, they did invite me after all, my mind convinces me. So it’s decided, I'll sneak out and see what’s going on at this “fun fun party.”


Sneaking out actually wasn't very hard, mostly because Edward was fast asleep, as well as Charlotte, so all I had to do was retrieve my jacket from the coat rack, and I was on my way. Entering the outside world, the cold wind almost sweeps me off my feet, but I managed to keep my balance. I step outside and quickly shut the door behind me, and began my trek down my driveway into the cold world.


After about a 20 minute walk out of my small neighborhood and into the next, I arrive at the correct town, then the correct road, then the correct number address. When I look up, expecting to see a house with flashing lights and broken windows, I was rather surprised to find a large gate. The gate appeared out of nowhere, and it seemed pretty out of place between a public park and a regular house. Despite this, the gate was mostly covered up by trees and bushes, so it was hard to see if you were just passing by. Upon closer inspection, beyond the gate was a gravel road that started a couple of feet after the gate, and in the middle of the road was a hoodie-wearing figure. The same figure from earlier today, the one who gave me the note.

“Uh, hello?” I call out, which I now realize was not the greatest plan, because I now suddenly am filled with dread. I double check the address, but it's definitely right.

“DId you give me this invitation?” I called out again. The figure darted away, much too quickly for its size, into the darkness beyond the gate. I stared for a moment, but my vision began to blur. I then fainted.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After a few hundred wrong turns, I return home. I know I probably figured that any invitation to any party written in red crayon should probably be ignored, but I was more interested in finding out who had the idea to sent me an invitation. Apparently, nobody. Looking back, I probably could have climbed the gate and walked on up to the house, but for some reason, I didn't feel welcome. Like someone knew I was there. Weird.


I re-entered the house the way I came in, through the front door, and hoped that good ‘ol King Edward was asleep. Walking through the house’s main hallway, I checked every room diligently, until I noticed something. Edward is gone. Of course, it would not be the first time he left unannounced, but what was concerning is that he left his drink on the counter. Edward never leaves his energy drinks here, especially not half empty.


This normally would not have worried me, but for some reason it was off-putting. So much so I decided to check on Charlotte, just to be sure. I went to the end of the hall and creaked her door open, slowly so it would not creak. I peeked inside, but couldn't see much, because it was still dark out. I walked inside and approached her bed, careful not to trip on her toys. I then gently felt the blanket, but instead of finding a little girl inside, I just felt more blanket.


At this moment, I panicked, so I threw her blanket off the bed and looked again. Nothing. I turned on the light and checked the closet. Nothing. I checked every room in the house, including the bathroom, attic, basement, and even the outside porch. Nothing. I tried calling Edward as a last resort, but I guess he was asleep, because nobody picked up. Nobody was here. But if nobody was here, than where did they go?


A horrible thought crossed my mind as I began to look outside and around the house, What if somebody broke into the house while I was gone? What if there was a murderer on the loose? I tried to think positively, but I'm not exactly good at it, so all I could think of was more scenarios of how everyone could disappear like that. I eventually got to the point that I decided to go to the neighbor's house. Even though Mrs. Ralph was a bit of a walk away, she was the closest thing to a neighbor I had, even though my house was pretty much isolated.


Mrs. Ralph was the classic nice old lady who lived in the next house over for longer than I could imagine. She said I could come to visit her whenever I felt like it, and sometimes she came over for dinner and brought cookies. I knew that she was probably the best person to talk to in a situation like this. From what I know from pictures hung around the halls, she has children and grandchildren that don’t visit anymore, so she always saw me as one of her own grandchildren.


As I approached her house, I noticed her car was in the driveway and saw lights on in her house. The lights acted as a beacon of hope, and as I knocked on her door, I noticed it was already open. I awkwardly walked in and called out for her name. Then, when I heard no response, someone turned the lights off. Then, my eyes rolled into the back of my head, and I hit the floor.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


I walked back outside, releasing that it was silly to think that an old lady lived in the old house next door. I was greeted by the cold breeze of the outside world,  and started to walk back home. I decided that I needed to calm down. In the morning, I would be greeted by the sweet voice of Charlotte and make myself some breakfast. But until then, I needed to sleep, because when I checked my phone, it read 10:27.


Suddenly, He closed the notebook, as He had heard footsteps approaching.

“Who’s there?” He asked the footsteps. No reply.

He thought for a moment, “Are you alive?” No reply. He was aware he had been hallucinating, but had no idea to what extent.


For the first time in many years, He felt that someone was with him. Watching.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The author's comments:

More to come, or maybe not

Do we really ever control the book? We can have one, but after that, the book controls us. We go where the book takes us, wherever it wants. Are you as free as you think you are? Or is a book controlling you?



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