• I stared up at the dark figure nearing on his black stallion. His hooded cloak disguised his disoriented figure but showed a part of his evil grin.
    “Please...please, kill me quickly...” I begged. His grin grew to a smile as he brought his head up, slowly. I gasped.
    Blood-red eyes glared at me. I cowered away from his clawing stare. His green rotten face had holes that showed not blood, but parts of his skull.
    “Castiel; the damned angel of god.” It screeched reaching down with his skeletal hands.
    I yelped and shut my eyes just as his cold fingers grabbed my shoulder and violently shook me.

    I screamed and ripped my eyes open only to find that everyone was staring at me, shocked. Jake’s hands were still on my shoulder.
    “Miss, Castiel!” Mrs Hughson raged, walking towards my desk with her stick. I hesitated.
    “I...I am terribly sorry.” I stuttered, frantically grabbing my belongings and stuffing it into my bag. Mrs Hughson looked at me with angry puzzlement.
    “What are you doing?” She asked. I kept my head bowed, still grabbing my text books and hastily pushing it to the bottom of my bag.
    “I-I have to go...” I said without looking at her.
    Crap, another vision, I thought.
    Wild flashes streamed into my head.
    The reapers face and hands.
    Jake’s cold grip on my shoulder...
    And a girl, with obscure black eyes that didn’t have any properties of a pupil and her body seemed fragile in the bright red, silk sleeping gown. No. It wasn’t red silk... it was blood.
    Her face was screwed into a pained and merciless expression.
    ‘Castiel, Castiel, Castiel, Castiel...’ She seemed to call out in my head. ‘Come, oh, Castiel...’
    I jerked my way passed the screaming teacher and headed towards the door just in time to hear Jake yell out my name.

    I stared at the almond shaped eyes with a dimmed expression.
    “What are you saying?” I asked my principle. “That a girl was killed here?”
    His expression darkened.
    “Yes...” He wavered before speaking again. “It was a long time ago, Castiel.”
    I stared at is face, the face of my father.
    “Principle Br – I mean, dad. You have to tell me...” I insisted. He just seemed to stare at me for another minute before I confessed. I told him about the reaper and the girl.
    “Castiel –”
    “Don’t you Castiel me.” I screamed at him, earning stares from some students walking past.
    “She was a young and a very naive girl. Her name was Sarah,” was all he said. I stifled another screaming fit.
    “And...?” I urged on. He rolled his eyes and then looked at me again.
    “Follow me...” He led me into his office away from the students. When we were inside he opened his secret file cabinet and took out a poorly cared for manila folder. On the front it had
    Sarah Hothermoon.
    Then he read from a piece of paper, “My name is Sarah Hothermoon. A couple of months ago, I was taken to a specialist care organization (or known as S.C.O) and was cared by mental health doctors. They thought I was going crazy. No, they only thought that. I was seeing things... visions; Dreams of some kind.
    When they ran tests on me they said that it would be better if they took me to a normal school. So they brought me here, to ‘Allen High’. From then on, I would have to endure a so called ‘normal’ child hood.
    That was June 26th 1987. But the list keeps going on and on...
    My visions were going wild. There were occasions where he told me that he wouldn’t take my life if I drank blood off another child, my best friend. Then there were rare occasions after when I craved drinking blood. This was going too far. Death must be taken as another option...
    This was from a teacher dating back from the early 1920’s.”
    He seemed to freeze.
    “Is there a list?” I asked, holding my hand in front of me. “Please...” He gave me an unsure expression as he walked to his cabinet and took out another old looking manila folder.
    “This is a copy of all the pictures of kids that died in this school... the ones that took their life.” He handed it to me and I quickly folded it, ignoring the innocent smiles of the children. My stomach lurched as he took out another old looking manila folder and handed it to me. It was chunky and filled with lots of papers.
    “Here... I hope this will help you.” He said, taking a deep breath before walking out.

    That night, I crept into my father’s office and turned on the computer. As the screen loaded, I flicked through the pieces of paper to see if there was something about the girl in my vision.

    29 March, 1978
    S.C.O – Fiona Mullins,

    Fiona has mental and emotional issues and there are occurrences of cuts on wrists.
    ‘Death will sweep your dreams’ she occasionally muttered.
    Her death was unknown and she was found ‘dangling above low chair’ when mistress Colleens entered to clean the bathroom –

    Beep, the computer stuttered to life, showing her dad’s screensaver. A picture of her mom and dad hugging appeared on the screen.
    I logged onto Google.com and searched ‘S.C.O’.
    It came up as ‘No results found’.
    “s**t,” I swore under my breath, briskly typing in another suggestion.
    ‘Specialist Care Organisation’
    It came up with 270, 000 different results. I cursed again and scrolled down and stared uselessly at the page numbers.
    Lucky number...
    Then a bright flash of light flooded in my head and the number 39 came into my vision. I slightly jumped and unexpectedly clicked page number 39.
    ‘Specialist Care Organisation for Mental Physical and un-understandable phenomena.’ It said.
    I scrolled down on the page. Suddenly, the computer went haywire and showed seven strips of bright colours before turning on and showing the screensaver as me. Me in the Christmas party with Jake. My best friend.
    ‘Drank blood off another child, my best friend...’ A voice seemed to quote in my head. A painful lash of thirst tore through my throat and poured into my mouth. I stumbled to the door and burst into the hallways of my house, screaming as the pain and thirst increased. It was like a million fire ants biting me at once.
    “DAD!” A raspy voice came out. “Dad, help me!” I fell to the ground clawing at the floor, as blood ran down my face and onto the white carpet. I yanked my head upwards to find that the same girl in my vision was looking at me at the end of the hall. She smiled as she watched me... watched me rive in pain and smother myself in blood.
    ‘It wasn’t red silk... it was blood.’ I recalled. So this was how the girl died.
    Her smiled widened.
    Oh, Castiel... Come...Come towards your long forgotten sister...
    Without question the pain suddenly began to recede and in no time, it was gone. I stood up and stared at the now bright light that surrounded what looked like a little girl at the end of the hall. Pure and white illuminating light poured towards her as I walked towards the girl, linking hands.
    Don’t look back. She told me. But I couldn’t obey the order and looked back.
    On the floor, covered in blood from head to toe was a limp body, her wide shocked eyes following me... staring and pleading me to come back to her.
    It was me.
    Me lying on the floor.
    And it was me who was now walking into the depths of hell.

    To be CONTINUED...