This is my story, my first non-Pokemon story, No Bounds. Let's begin...
Chapter 1-Another Jeremy Robinson: 2245 words
Chapter 2-Sepia Sight: 2149 words
Chapter 3-Mile-High Breakdown: 1862 words
Chapter 4-Surcharged Passion: 1657 words
Chapter 5-I've Always Had You: 1527 words
Chapter 6-Purgatory: 2185 words
Chapter 7-In progress
Chapter 1: Another Jeremy Robinson
In all honesty, that was a bad move. Who'd trust a psychic anyways? Especially one that can play tricks on your mind.
Those thoughts buzzed through the head of Josh Clayton, a sixteen year-old from Anaheim, California. He stood against the side of a circus tent, and a rather small one at that. This tent was no bigger than a CRV. Naturally, that would lead to the assumption that it didn't contain as many horrors as the mansions psychics of old used to use.
But this was a different kind of tent. Whenever Josh thought about it, he could sense an ominous practice going on in there. If there was any proof of that, it was late last year, in 2016. A psychic, not the one in the tent now, had turned a twenty year-old, Jeremy Robinson, mentally insane, so much that he'd rob a building of any sort whenever he could. It took around two months, along with weekly lockdowns in the schools, to finally surround him.
After his capture and purification, the practice of psychics was said to only be captured in full essence by servants of Hecate alone, the three-faced, ancient Greek goddess that was said to be the patron diety of witchcraft.
But, there was one problem. This incident wasn't witchcraft. It was none other than a greedy old woman, making an immature adult do her bidding.
***
"Sarah, come on out already! The fair's almost over!" Josh yelled into the tent, right where the impatience he had now should be. By this, he meant being in there, right in the face of the psychic and getting whatever old woman that was in there a lesson straight to her stomach. At that thought, his fist clenched, but a quick decision had to pull the thought out of him. Just thinking of the impression it would leave on Sarah made him shudder.
A muffled scream practically saying, "Seriously?! We were in the middle of something," was all that came out of the mysterious place. Josh shrugged, frowning at the same time, and slouched his way back against the tent back. The conversation that took place inside worked its way up again, but a well-cued chime-in cut Josh's attention from it.
"Still taking a long time? Figures. Those psychics always try to hold customers in for a long time. It's all for the money," a girl, in her late teens, had remarked. She wore a short T-shirt, all white, khakis that unfurled at the ankles, freestyle shoes and a facial expression that echoed, 'Here we go again,' at Josh. Her brunette hair, long enough to reach her midsection, swayed sideways in the brisk fall air, revealing three sets of gold hoop earrings lining her earlobes.
This was Abigaill Chambers, Josh's best friend from when he was five, back in the suburbs of Los Angeles. Their parents had decided to have the two marry in their twenties, as if to keep a family heritage going, but Abigaill decided against it and said they should just stay friends, so a premature love-life didn't get in the way of their dreams. Josh agreed by that pact, even though it wasn't written, and they have remained best friends throughout their teen years. Abigaill even persuaded her parents to move to Anaheim with Josh's family after they heard he was moving. Normally, Josh would've labeled the stunt pullled an act by a stalker or nymphomaniac, but he knew this was different. From the day they signed that pact, at only age six, eight for Abigaill, he knew she intended to stick by him for a long time, like good friends should. But they weren't good friends. Since they had agreed to it, they were best friends, no matter how long.
"Yeah, Abigaill. Sarah's taking forever," Josh sighed as he replied back. Abigaill had said it was routine, but obviously, he didn't quite understand it.
Abigaill smiled, trying to cheer him up. "Come on, Josh! Let's go play around," she offered him her hand, gladly accepted in a heartbeat. This was the Abigaill he knew: always trying to brighten the day. It worked every time.
***
"Wasn't that fun?" Abigaill cheerfully threw into the wind as they walked back towards the psychic's tent. She had had a fun time here.
Josh smiled, wincing at the same time as a result of lugging a three-foot stuffed panda around after she'd won a ring toss game. "Sure. Having fun times with you is a real treat."
Abigaill winked intently at that statement. "You bet. Josh, the reason I agreed to our little contract ten years ago was because of that bond you displayed just now. If you could say that to anyone, I think, he or she would automatically be your best friend. All those years back, that was what you showed to me. That's why I'm still with you, by your side, and holding your hand every step of the way. We care about each other, Josh, neither greater than the other. That, my friend, is a true bond."
Josh was bowled over. He'd never heard Abigaill say something so touching. His face tensed, and the flood of tears, tears of mirth, came shortly afterwards. He fell down, resting against Abigaill's stomach with his head, dropped the bear on the grass, and cried his heart out. "I know... Abigaill, you've just shown me a different side of you. You have sincerely touched me. And now, ten years later, I feel like the champion of the world, all because of that day..." He looked up at her smiling face, the face he'd seen for eleven years almost every day, and closed his eyes in an attempt to preserve her everlasting image within his brain.
A sudden nudge by the panda bear he'd been holding moments before, and a rather forceful one at that, interrupted his moment of serenity. He looked around in anger, but saw it was Abigaill that held the panda. She had a look of panic in her eyes. He wanted to ask what was going on, but as he followed the direction of her eyes, he was immmediately shown the answer. A dead man, about thirty in age, was face-down on the ground, blood streaming out of his backside from a knife-like wound. His white shirt, signaling he was a businessman, was covered in red smudges.
Abigaill kicked the dead man's side with her left foot. "Come on! We need to find Sarah, and quick," she dashed over him, and threw herself into the tent with the psychic, followed moments later by Josh. They looked around, cautiousness in their steps.
Josh looked down at once after he'd seen a blood splatter on the tent flap and nudged Abigaill over in his direction. She immediately backed off three steps. Another dead man, probably the psychic's butler by look of his tailcoat, lay on his back, another knife-implemented gouge on his breast.
Josh stood back up, raising his gaze at Abigaill, mouth almost spraining the jawline from exasperation, in utter horror. His mouth was all funny now, yet he could still talk in his normal way. "Quickly, Abigaill. It seems we've got ourselves another Jeremy Robinson."
***
Quick, hurdling footsteps blitzed down a small, grass-laden route of the carnival: that of Josh and Abigaill. The game hosts all were griefstricken- an obvious sign of his murderess, Sarah Lawton, going by- and were more than obliged to point the way out to them. More helpful even, a neatly carved line of footprints, with signs of a quick stride in them, had paved the way as well. As long as we have these to guide us, Josh thought, we'll be just fine.
"Josh, look! Sarah's prints split at the left," Abigaill threw out a tan-skinned arm to draw his attention, to perfect avail, as both of them turned straight into a brick wall. At the other side of the alley they were now on, there was Sarah. Her silhuoette was hard to make out, but still visible. She held a dripping knife in her palm, and a middle-aged man lay face-down on the concrete.
"S-Sarah?..." Josh tried to move forward to reason with the menace she'd become, but a stiffened arm grasped his shoulder in swift reaction. Abigaill, who was known for her quick timing, was the owner.
"Josh, you stay back. She's a predator," Abigaill harshly whispered, then flipped her hair to one side to clear way for her right eye. "Just look at that knife she's holding, and there's your proof."
Sarah turned around, a cold glare in her eyes, and stepped forward. "Josh," she whispered, her voice sounding like a puppeteer was controlling her. "Why did you come?"
Josh gulped, but his gaze turned serious in an instant. "What do you think, Sarah? Isn't it practice to keep the ones you love close and safe?"
Sarah's emotionless look turned into a condensed smile, her eyes still calculating the odds. "It is. But, the question is, can I keep my loved ones close as well?"
Josh's sense of seriousness was eradicated at that instant; she'd gotten to him, down to the bone. His face, flushed with paleness, just stared in sudden shock.
"That's up to you to decide, Sarah. If you truly love Josh, this is your big chance," Abigaill cut the silence short, catching Sarah offguard.
Now she'd gotten to Sarah. Her face droned of color the same way as Josh's did just moments before, but her composure maintained itself throughout.
"I love him, alright. Just enough to embrace him, body and all." Sarah's wretched glare had worked its way right back into view, and her feet started taking long strides towards Josh. Her knife now twisted around, curved edge towards him, mirroring the image of moribundancy they were now so close to witnessing first-hand.
***
Not trying anything, yet still maintaining her composure, Abigaill pulled Josh's limp body beside her and leaned him on the wall of the alley. "You stay, Josh," she then turned back to Sarah. "Sarah, what are you doing? We've known each other for two years, ever since you and Josh became friends, then taking it to the next step, but I remained by you two the whole time. We are inseperable. But now, what drives you these past minutes into an attempt to kill your two closest companions?"
"I abide by my master and nothing more. I do as she wishes," Sarah's bitonal voice echoed maliciously the Creed of the Psychics. There was the proof of Abigaill's point.
"Listen to yourself, Sarah! Break free! Because now, you're nothing more than a marionette in my eyes," Abigaill was herself shocked at this, but they still bellowed out, having the effectiveness of mace aimed at a caterpillar.
"Wha-," Sarah's bitonal voice withered away with the uttering of the word; Abigaill had struck home on this one. Her eyes teared up, her hand let go of the knife, falling with a clang to the concrete walkway, and her knees collapsed suddenly, letting her fall to the ground in sudden realization of what she'd done. Her hands started acting up and clasped her head like a tumor had just burst on the edge of her skull. She mumbled undecipherable sentences that might not have been sentences at all. Then her knees buckled together; her upper body released itself to the gravitational forces at work as she fell silently to the ground, but Abigaill caught her at the last second.
"That's the Sarah I know," she sighed with relief and stroked Sarah with her hand, trying to relieve her of the pain she'd been through.
***
"Thank you, Abigaill. I owe you one," Josh, icebag clasped to his head, smiled at Abigaill. An ambulance siren blared behind them; Sarah's unconscious self, lying on a cot, was being rolled into it.
"It's fine. I'm just glad you're both well," she let her joyous side take hold but reverted back to a more cocerned look. "Though, I'm not sure about Sarah. She had this bitonal voice, like she was a mind puppet, added when she was speaking. She even uttered a phrase from the Creed of the Psychics. That gives me the feeling this isn't the last of our encounters with her demon side."
Josh glanced at the ambulance. "Speaking of which, where will she go?" He hadn't though of this. "She's more or less a major threat at this point, so our houses are ruled out for sure."
"My guess would be a hospital. There are plenty here," Abigaill reminded him in her self-assuring way.
"Sorry to say, but that's a nigh impossibility, ma'am," a doctor who'd overheard the conversation chimed in. "The only hospital left in the U.S. is in Boston."
"That's halfway across the U.S.!" Josh exclaimed, panic entering his tone like water into a sponge. Abigaill's eyes too had the same look of shock in them.
"Then that's what we do," Abigaill planted her foot more into the ground. She stuck her hand out, clenched in a fist, and the favor was returned by Josh.
"Why?" Josh hadn't a clue of why he'd fist-bumped her anyways; their fists were still linked at the knuckles. He then noticed Abigaill's reassuring smile, and the splendor in her sky-blue eyes.
"Because," she spoke with a motivational tone. Josh was glad for this. Then, her eyes blinked at him cleanly. "In relationships, big or small, there are no bounds!"
***
Hope you enjoy it, ~AoH
Chapter 1-Another Jeremy Robinson: 2245 words
Chapter 2-Sepia Sight: 2149 words
Chapter 3-Mile-High Breakdown: 1862 words
Chapter 4-Surcharged Passion: 1657 words
Chapter 5-I've Always Had You: 1527 words
Chapter 6-Purgatory: 2185 words
Chapter 7-In progress
Chapter 1: Another Jeremy Robinson
In all honesty, that was a bad move. Who'd trust a psychic anyways? Especially one that can play tricks on your mind.
Those thoughts buzzed through the head of Josh Clayton, a sixteen year-old from Anaheim, California. He stood against the side of a circus tent, and a rather small one at that. This tent was no bigger than a CRV. Naturally, that would lead to the assumption that it didn't contain as many horrors as the mansions psychics of old used to use.
But this was a different kind of tent. Whenever Josh thought about it, he could sense an ominous practice going on in there. If there was any proof of that, it was late last year, in 2016. A psychic, not the one in the tent now, had turned a twenty year-old, Jeremy Robinson, mentally insane, so much that he'd rob a building of any sort whenever he could. It took around two months, along with weekly lockdowns in the schools, to finally surround him.
After his capture and purification, the practice of psychics was said to only be captured in full essence by servants of Hecate alone, the three-faced, ancient Greek goddess that was said to be the patron diety of witchcraft.
But, there was one problem. This incident wasn't witchcraft. It was none other than a greedy old woman, making an immature adult do her bidding.
***
"Sarah, come on out already! The fair's almost over!" Josh yelled into the tent, right where the impatience he had now should be. By this, he meant being in there, right in the face of the psychic and getting whatever old woman that was in there a lesson straight to her stomach. At that thought, his fist clenched, but a quick decision had to pull the thought out of him. Just thinking of the impression it would leave on Sarah made him shudder.
A muffled scream practically saying, "Seriously?! We were in the middle of something," was all that came out of the mysterious place. Josh shrugged, frowning at the same time, and slouched his way back against the tent back. The conversation that took place inside worked its way up again, but a well-cued chime-in cut Josh's attention from it.
"Still taking a long time? Figures. Those psychics always try to hold customers in for a long time. It's all for the money," a girl, in her late teens, had remarked. She wore a short T-shirt, all white, khakis that unfurled at the ankles, freestyle shoes and a facial expression that echoed, 'Here we go again,' at Josh. Her brunette hair, long enough to reach her midsection, swayed sideways in the brisk fall air, revealing three sets of gold hoop earrings lining her earlobes.
This was Abigaill Chambers, Josh's best friend from when he was five, back in the suburbs of Los Angeles. Their parents had decided to have the two marry in their twenties, as if to keep a family heritage going, but Abigaill decided against it and said they should just stay friends, so a premature love-life didn't get in the way of their dreams. Josh agreed by that pact, even though it wasn't written, and they have remained best friends throughout their teen years. Abigaill even persuaded her parents to move to Anaheim with Josh's family after they heard he was moving. Normally, Josh would've labeled the stunt pullled an act by a stalker or nymphomaniac, but he knew this was different. From the day they signed that pact, at only age six, eight for Abigaill, he knew she intended to stick by him for a long time, like good friends should. But they weren't good friends. Since they had agreed to it, they were best friends, no matter how long.
"Yeah, Abigaill. Sarah's taking forever," Josh sighed as he replied back. Abigaill had said it was routine, but obviously, he didn't quite understand it.
Abigaill smiled, trying to cheer him up. "Come on, Josh! Let's go play around," she offered him her hand, gladly accepted in a heartbeat. This was the Abigaill he knew: always trying to brighten the day. It worked every time.
***
"Wasn't that fun?" Abigaill cheerfully threw into the wind as they walked back towards the psychic's tent. She had had a fun time here.
Josh smiled, wincing at the same time as a result of lugging a three-foot stuffed panda around after she'd won a ring toss game. "Sure. Having fun times with you is a real treat."
Abigaill winked intently at that statement. "You bet. Josh, the reason I agreed to our little contract ten years ago was because of that bond you displayed just now. If you could say that to anyone, I think, he or she would automatically be your best friend. All those years back, that was what you showed to me. That's why I'm still with you, by your side, and holding your hand every step of the way. We care about each other, Josh, neither greater than the other. That, my friend, is a true bond."
Josh was bowled over. He'd never heard Abigaill say something so touching. His face tensed, and the flood of tears, tears of mirth, came shortly afterwards. He fell down, resting against Abigaill's stomach with his head, dropped the bear on the grass, and cried his heart out. "I know... Abigaill, you've just shown me a different side of you. You have sincerely touched me. And now, ten years later, I feel like the champion of the world, all because of that day..." He looked up at her smiling face, the face he'd seen for eleven years almost every day, and closed his eyes in an attempt to preserve her everlasting image within his brain.
A sudden nudge by the panda bear he'd been holding moments before, and a rather forceful one at that, interrupted his moment of serenity. He looked around in anger, but saw it was Abigaill that held the panda. She had a look of panic in her eyes. He wanted to ask what was going on, but as he followed the direction of her eyes, he was immmediately shown the answer. A dead man, about thirty in age, was face-down on the ground, blood streaming out of his backside from a knife-like wound. His white shirt, signaling he was a businessman, was covered in red smudges.
Abigaill kicked the dead man's side with her left foot. "Come on! We need to find Sarah, and quick," she dashed over him, and threw herself into the tent with the psychic, followed moments later by Josh. They looked around, cautiousness in their steps.
Josh looked down at once after he'd seen a blood splatter on the tent flap and nudged Abigaill over in his direction. She immediately backed off three steps. Another dead man, probably the psychic's butler by look of his tailcoat, lay on his back, another knife-implemented gouge on his breast.
Josh stood back up, raising his gaze at Abigaill, mouth almost spraining the jawline from exasperation, in utter horror. His mouth was all funny now, yet he could still talk in his normal way. "Quickly, Abigaill. It seems we've got ourselves another Jeremy Robinson."
***
Quick, hurdling footsteps blitzed down a small, grass-laden route of the carnival: that of Josh and Abigaill. The game hosts all were griefstricken- an obvious sign of his murderess, Sarah Lawton, going by- and were more than obliged to point the way out to them. More helpful even, a neatly carved line of footprints, with signs of a quick stride in them, had paved the way as well. As long as we have these to guide us, Josh thought, we'll be just fine.
"Josh, look! Sarah's prints split at the left," Abigaill threw out a tan-skinned arm to draw his attention, to perfect avail, as both of them turned straight into a brick wall. At the other side of the alley they were now on, there was Sarah. Her silhuoette was hard to make out, but still visible. She held a dripping knife in her palm, and a middle-aged man lay face-down on the concrete.
"S-Sarah?..." Josh tried to move forward to reason with the menace she'd become, but a stiffened arm grasped his shoulder in swift reaction. Abigaill, who was known for her quick timing, was the owner.
"Josh, you stay back. She's a predator," Abigaill harshly whispered, then flipped her hair to one side to clear way for her right eye. "Just look at that knife she's holding, and there's your proof."
Sarah turned around, a cold glare in her eyes, and stepped forward. "Josh," she whispered, her voice sounding like a puppeteer was controlling her. "Why did you come?"
Josh gulped, but his gaze turned serious in an instant. "What do you think, Sarah? Isn't it practice to keep the ones you love close and safe?"
Sarah's emotionless look turned into a condensed smile, her eyes still calculating the odds. "It is. But, the question is, can I keep my loved ones close as well?"
Josh's sense of seriousness was eradicated at that instant; she'd gotten to him, down to the bone. His face, flushed with paleness, just stared in sudden shock.
"That's up to you to decide, Sarah. If you truly love Josh, this is your big chance," Abigaill cut the silence short, catching Sarah offguard.
Now she'd gotten to Sarah. Her face droned of color the same way as Josh's did just moments before, but her composure maintained itself throughout.
"I love him, alright. Just enough to embrace him, body and all." Sarah's wretched glare had worked its way right back into view, and her feet started taking long strides towards Josh. Her knife now twisted around, curved edge towards him, mirroring the image of moribundancy they were now so close to witnessing first-hand.
***
Not trying anything, yet still maintaining her composure, Abigaill pulled Josh's limp body beside her and leaned him on the wall of the alley. "You stay, Josh," she then turned back to Sarah. "Sarah, what are you doing? We've known each other for two years, ever since you and Josh became friends, then taking it to the next step, but I remained by you two the whole time. We are inseperable. But now, what drives you these past minutes into an attempt to kill your two closest companions?"
"I abide by my master and nothing more. I do as she wishes," Sarah's bitonal voice echoed maliciously the Creed of the Psychics. There was the proof of Abigaill's point.
"Listen to yourself, Sarah! Break free! Because now, you're nothing more than a marionette in my eyes," Abigaill was herself shocked at this, but they still bellowed out, having the effectiveness of mace aimed at a caterpillar.
"Wha-," Sarah's bitonal voice withered away with the uttering of the word; Abigaill had struck home on this one. Her eyes teared up, her hand let go of the knife, falling with a clang to the concrete walkway, and her knees collapsed suddenly, letting her fall to the ground in sudden realization of what she'd done. Her hands started acting up and clasped her head like a tumor had just burst on the edge of her skull. She mumbled undecipherable sentences that might not have been sentences at all. Then her knees buckled together; her upper body released itself to the gravitational forces at work as she fell silently to the ground, but Abigaill caught her at the last second.
"That's the Sarah I know," she sighed with relief and stroked Sarah with her hand, trying to relieve her of the pain she'd been through.
***
"Thank you, Abigaill. I owe you one," Josh, icebag clasped to his head, smiled at Abigaill. An ambulance siren blared behind them; Sarah's unconscious self, lying on a cot, was being rolled into it.
"It's fine. I'm just glad you're both well," she let her joyous side take hold but reverted back to a more cocerned look. "Though, I'm not sure about Sarah. She had this bitonal voice, like she was a mind puppet, added when she was speaking. She even uttered a phrase from the Creed of the Psychics. That gives me the feeling this isn't the last of our encounters with her demon side."
Josh glanced at the ambulance. "Speaking of which, where will she go?" He hadn't though of this. "She's more or less a major threat at this point, so our houses are ruled out for sure."
"My guess would be a hospital. There are plenty here," Abigaill reminded him in her self-assuring way.
"Sorry to say, but that's a nigh impossibility, ma'am," a doctor who'd overheard the conversation chimed in. "The only hospital left in the U.S. is in Boston."
"That's halfway across the U.S.!" Josh exclaimed, panic entering his tone like water into a sponge. Abigaill's eyes too had the same look of shock in them.
"Then that's what we do," Abigaill planted her foot more into the ground. She stuck her hand out, clenched in a fist, and the favor was returned by Josh.
"Why?" Josh hadn't a clue of why he'd fist-bumped her anyways; their fists were still linked at the knuckles. He then noticed Abigaill's reassuring smile, and the splendor in her sky-blue eyes.
"Because," she spoke with a motivational tone. Josh was glad for this. Then, her eyes blinked at him cleanly. "In relationships, big or small, there are no bounds!"
***
Hope you enjoy it, ~AoH