Somnambulist chapter 1

Please give me constructive critques. Tell me if it flows smootly and the descriptions are on point. Don't be afraid to hurt my feelings.





The dreams were different now. She could feel as she stepped from the dark nothingness of sleep and into her dreams. Smiling up at the clear moonless night, the uncountable stars, serene glittering jewelry for the black velvet Texas sky, Hadassah felt at home. Still she knew that someone’s destiny would break the night’s serenity.          

Dreams of the near future ran for acres to her east and west, their tall dying stalks rustling a warning to her in the crisp air as the night answered with the birth of a sun; a falling, screaming newborn future of a sun crashed with deafening light and blinding sound across the land, someone made a decision that concerned them all.
The earth skewed at the blow and she gasped as the shockwave overwhelmed her, slamming her back. Turning she found a black horse. She raised her hand to pet it. The animal was cold. Cobalt eyes bore into her, its vicious presence a tangible fear. 

Her body responded to the animal’s violent caress of energy painfully and a low throb pounded to life in her belly making her shudder. A need to know the answers in its eyes called out to her; it was a need that pleaded and demanded to be fulfilled. 

Something else called to her and she turned from the beast to answer it, no him. The demanding resonance of her name drew her through the maze of dreams, to the edge of a cave that had exploded into a wash of green light. Hadassah thrust away the tilting dying dreams, ignoring the bite of the dreamers who fought against the inevitable she stumbled towards the light.

Shadows outlined a glowing form bound under thick rocks. Fire sparked in unreadable patterns around the cave as electricity gathered in the air. Rocks crumbled like the dreams before them behind her but she paid them no mind.
The bound male panted with the effort to raise his head. Demon-dark hair wildly framed an astoundingly beautiful face but she could only feel the beauty she couldn’t see it. His jaw clenched in fear and anger as he struggled against the rocks and something else. His nostrils flared as he took a deep breath and released it with a deep growl that seemed to sing with the building thunder.

Lightening flashed as he tilted his face towards her and she stepped back. There had never been anyone who could see her in her visions. She could feel herself tremble. Yearning danced with disbelief and he looked boldly into her eyes with unadulterated hope; recognition was a wall she slammed into and she cried out as she watched, watched his powerful muscles tense and flex as his trapped body tried to twist towards her. His twisting revealed a long thing scar where his heart resided. His eyes blazed with mesmerizing intensity and hate. Hadassah was ensnared in an amazing cobalt universe and his voice pleaded with her softly.

“You brought this on me.” The fear, the need, the longing was all encompassing and she mourned as chaos ruled. He moaned under the onslaught of energy building and crackling in the air.

“Help me.” She demanded, and strained to try to get to the rocks as the cave seemed to open up above them. He disappeared in a cloud of smoke before her as a cow with a calf crossed her path. The air became cold and the ground beneath her hard and black with death.

A hand appeared in her peripheral and she followed it to the demon dark hair of the man who had been calling to her. Lightening forked spectacularly overhead and the thunder was a slow vibration a threat of ever increasing sound and Hadassah fell to her knees below him. He was on the black horse, demon atop demon as he swept her up to sit behind him then he began charging wildly toward an unknown foe rising from the ground on white wings and the ashes of a red white and blue flag.

She couldn’t seem to focus on reality. There were echoes and layers of possibilities fighting for her attention again. She felt dreams, rough and hard beneath her knees as she fought to stay upright in the steadily increasing wind of sound that made her body hum and shudder uncontrollably. Hadassah looked upwards, guided by the music of his voice and she squinted through tears and wind. The horse and man disappeared and again she was alone.

“Please.” She saw him in the distance surrounded by bright light and shadow that pulsed with musical colors she felt on her skin. Running toward him the scar on his heart radiated with his colors, burned with the colors that chased pure fire across him branded into his muscled chest. Pure musical tones of blue. Of red. Of white. His body writhed in agony, or was that pleasure? She looked down and found two bloodied swords in her hands. Turning her head she saw that she’d cut through the dreams to get to him.

She wanted to move, tried to reach out to him, but the wind, the sound, the very light burning from his body beat her down and she cried out at the waves of energy that threatened, that promised, that begged as he threw his head back and screamed viciously at the sky.

“NO!” She wanted to scream back but she found that she didn’t know his name. All of reality exploded with a lethal pleasure as she watched her hands come up swords clutched. She tried to back away from him, but she was slowly, casually destroyed by a reality fated for another. Pieces of her harmonized with him, but her destiny was a cruel taunt, and she was dying in a universe that was composed of the bright lightening of demon dark suffering, the deep rumbling thunder of crimson want, stitched together with the finest thread of white hope echoing forlornly, slowly dissolving her atom by atom.

The pleading in his voice was a cry of pain. “Please don’t leave me.” She wept, struggled vainly against oblivion. His need was soul shattering and she had to let him know she was there, that she would never leave of her own will. She could only reach out and scream for him as the musical colors of his name ripped her apart with excruciating pleasure and she was tossed indifferently away back into a dreamless sleep.

March 15, 2008, 5:50 P.M. EST

They will all be your slaves in the afterlife. Breath stole from Amatullah’s body as her gaze fell hatefully on her classmates from the carpet of the White House. Her thick matted brown hair hung under her spoiling the effect while making her look like a kicked lost puppy. The laughter of her classmates became a pelting rain.

Their backs turned and none could see what the reaper promised them from within her eyes. The thought of the sweet caress of revenge made her smile as she stood. Their time would come sooner than they all anticipated and Amatullah relished that she would be their executioner. For years she had listened secretly to her father’s plans and he had ignored her. She had just been a middle child mistake in what was to be his three sons.  Passing the boy who had tripped her Amatullah let her gaze linger on him for a moment before taking her place in line. His face became one of her brother’s and she relished the fact that he would die as well.

Their deluded minds could only comprehend that half of her was from the Middle East. They had called her sand nigger, thrown things at her, stuck gum in her hair, and said they weren’t comfortable being around an Arab. They had reason to fear her now and they didn’t even know.

The tour droned on in her head. Her mother had taken her here many times before for the tour of the house of the President. Many times she had told her of her duty to her people, to her father. Her father had been right to give her this task. The boy pushed her again and she almost fell. There was nothing she would rather have done. It was her birthright and her duty. As Amatullah turned back to look at the boy behind her in line who was writing something on a piece of paper she smiled. It was her pleasure.
Today was a day of reckoning.

         “Amatullah, forget about them. They’re not worth it.” The steady drum of her heart sped in a tantrum of beats and she began to sweat. Turning to the front and looking into the eyes of her only friend she knew true fear. The brown eyes that looked compassionately back into hers had held back the wrath of their class many times. She was as innocent as her bouncy red pigtails. Her father had called them all infidels. Her father had told her that they all deserved to die. Her father had told her. Indecision marred Amatullah’s features as she looked down at her watch. It was almost time. She still had time.

“Lucy, leave this place.” Confusion was a rarity in Lucy that she didn’t have time to make fun of. Everyone she’d known deserved to die screaming; her mother and father had ignored her, her brothers had beaten her, her class had broken her sprit but Lucy was the only one who’d stood like a dam in between it all. Her watch began to beep. “Lucy leave.” Her stomach turned in a violent thrust as a timer in a balloon she’d swallowed this morning burst. Time, she needed more time.

“What are you…” Lucy caught her as her knees began to buckle. Swallowing slowly Amatullah stood on her own.

“Leave. I’ve done something terrible.” Pushing her towards the exit Amatullah felt another balloon burst and knowing it was to late she began to cry for her friend. The anger of an entire religion awoke in her stomach as more of the balloons began to burst and mix together. Both friends watched in disbelief as they were tackled from behind.

“It’s too late to stop what is coming.” Her body shook and the boy behind her dropped the piece of paper he’d been holding and it floating slowly down in front of her. As she caught sight of the words Amatullah almost laughed.
                   
                   Do you like me? Check one.
                             Yes
                             No

Looking up from the ground her disbelief was tangible as she stared into the confused blue eyes of the boy who’d tormented her all year. The FBI agent put his knee in her back and her world began to blacken. She could feel blood seeping from her mouth but she couldn’t feel anymore. Her classmates feared and she could smell it but her eyes were locked on the boys’ face.

“I haven’t done anything. Let me go.” Lucy’s fear became tangible enough to strangle her. Her screams went unnoticed and Lucy watched her only friend mouth sorry over and over, knowing that sorry was only meant for her. Blood bubbled from Amatullah’s lips. Her eyes rolled backward, blood bursting forth convicting and sentencing them all to the fate she had brought down on their heads. Before she stopped breathing she said six words that were being said around the world by misguided Muslim children.
         “We are many. We are legion.”


March 15, Eight am, Eastern Time


Rashidi gazed lazily through is shades over the sandy beach in Miami as the sun shone like the Star of David. His skin was glistening golden from the bit of sweat caused by the demanding early morning sun.  Hot, beautiful women walked around topless, showing their assets to the already active beach. It was his favorite place of play, relaxation, and great carnal liaisons if it was dark enough. But today as he watched the women his blood didn’t stir and his eyes didn’t search for someone that he would bend at the waist. His mother had called him and reminded him of what today was.

Watching the crystal-clear waters crash up onto the shore and tickle the feet of the few girls that played volleyball he thought of his sister. She should be their age now. She should be laughing. He stretched and smiled secretly to himself as he heard their sighs. Even though they were supposed to be engrossed in their game, he knew they couldn’t help but to look over their shoulders at him sun-bathing nude a few feet away. 

“She should still be alive to enjoy the life that was taken from her. Instead it’s up to me.” Laughing to himself Rashidi remembered all the women who lost their virtue to him and shuddered. “I’d kill a bastard if he would have done that to you.” It wasn’t his fault after all. Women, he knew, used him as much as he used them. It was a matter of sexual chess. Smiling to himself Rashidi prided himself on always being the winner.

A prince among men in his country Rashidi knew he was a god among men in America because of money.  Knowing where to find a good time and which nightclubs were seedy enough to get a quick disease free fuck in was just a matter of having money. Miami had become where tourists who were actually rich aficionados went to play. Only a phone call away lay limitless sex, drugs and whatever else suited him at the moment. It was only a matter of scraping his bitter, jaded twenty-two year old ass off the beach and going. Shaking his head to bring him out of the morose thoughts Rashidi felt his phone vibrate on the sand next to him. Smirking he sat up and stretched.

Feeling eyes on him Rashidi’s smirk grew into a full grin. He knew women loved his body. The right amount of muscle and toned abs to make a girl lose her mind wasn’t hard to come by in Miami but he knew he had most men beat. He’d grown up in the desert working for his muscle not gaining it in a gym. Swiping his hand through his hair recently cut short Rashidi pushed that thought and his childhood from his mind.

His cell phone vibrated again. Pulling off his glasses green eyes with a touch of gold looked irritatingly at it. Hitting talk without looking at the number he put the phone to his ear.

“Hello father.” His voice wrapped around the women like it was from the Book but he didn’t have time to play with them anymore. If sex was chess to him war was chess to his father.

“Salaam, Rashidi.” The voice of the king was tired, old. Many wars and hardships had befallen a once good man but Rashidi didn’t care anymore. Standing and pulling on his shorts Rashidi knew his day was over just like he knew that his brother was hovering next to his father in the background.

“Say hello to my brother for me, father.” He waited a beat as his message was relayed. “Why do you insist on staying with the old ways? Why can’t you just give up the wars and live?” An old battle waged between them and neither wanted to give their side to defeat. The one thing that ran from both sides of his family was stubbornness and Rashidi had it in spades.

The voice on the other line, a man who used to be the light of Rashidi’s life, was silent. But his silences meant more than just nothing to say. They were used as a tool. Like every other thing in his life, Rashidi’s father knew how to use it and Rashidi was tired of being used.

“The old ways serve us better and war is upon you my son. America took away your sister and now they will pay for it.” Hitting off on his phone Rashidi dropped it in the bag next to his chair. He didn’t want to hear it. According to his father America was always going to pay for his sister’s death but the man never did anything about it. His father hadn’t even supported September 11th.
Being neutral and telling his allies on both sides that war wasn’t the answer was his father’s strategy for that ill fated day. The man had no backbone anymore and Rashidi was glad that his father had stayed out of the mess that was terrorism. He would have gotten them all killed with his indecisiveness. Picking up his glasses to cover his eyes Rashidi saw his bodyguard Lo making his way to him across the sands.

“Rash, your father told me to give you this and to see to it that you got on the plane with or without your permission.” Cursing silently Rashidi began picking up his things. As a prince, he had no freedom but when his father died…

“I’ll be ready within the hour Lo. I just have to go pack my-”
“Everything is packed Rash and awaits you at the airport. Your father said what you crave most will happen.” Knowing he had no choice in the matter Rashidi glared at Lo. It was all he could do of his own free will that and throw his bag at him. Lo caught it indifferently and waited for Rashidi to lead the way.
With a reluctant grunt, he started on the journey that his father had preset for him. Pathetic. But such was life.