Waiting for an Eternity

I was standing on the edge of the cliff. Pale moon was struggling to shine through the thick, black clouds. Cold wind howled around me, pricking my face like icy needles. I shivered and pulled my nightgown tightly around myself, eyeing the inky, black waves pounding on rocks under my feet. 

I looked around, waiting for it. Minutes stretched into hours but nothing. My heart grew heavier with every passing minute and my nose went numb with cold. A loud snap shattered the silence of the night. I whipped around, freezing when I saw the cloaked, hunched figure standing in gloom behind me. 

"Will you answer my question?" I asked. "Will I get what I am waiting for?" 

It nodded, beckoned me by its gnarled finger and limped into the looming woods behind, the pine cones and twigs cracking and crunching under its feet. Heart pounding, I followed it into the woods. The trees creaked and the wind moaned, as if warning me to go back. I ignored it and ploughed on. Waiting had made me reckless. I followed the figure, stumbling over fallen branches and rocks, trying to keep it in sight. Air was heavy with silence. 

“You will lose what you treasure the second most.” a voice whispered. 

“You will face a long wait, to get what you are striving for.” another voice rasped, chilling my blood. Something grabbed my neck and sharp nails dug into my neck. I uttered a blood-curdling scream, darkness obscuring my vision. 

I woke up in my bed, sweating, blankets twisted around me. My friend and room-mate, Amber raised her head from pillow, her eyes heavy with sleep. 

“Those nightmares again?” she asked groggily. 

Trying to calm down my thudding heart, I looked around our room. It was a small one, with yellow, swirly wallpaper, our beds on opposite ends of the room with separate wardrobe, dresser and study-table for each of us. Amber’s side of room was whirl of colours and mess. Bright posters and photos covered the wall around her bed and table, glow-in-dark stars hid every inch of her wardrobe, clothes, books and Twix wrappers scattered around her bed. By comparison, my side was dull and neat. Walls were bare, books neatly arranged on desk and a single frame of me, my parents and brother, Jason on the side-table. The only colourful thing on my side was an orange lava-lamp, which was a present from my best friend, Julian. It cast a warm, orange glow in our room, comforting me. Just like him. 

“Yeah, it was just a nightmare, Am. Sorry for waking you up. Go back to sleep.” I said, forcing a smile on my face. 

“You sure you’re fine?” she demanded, looking at me with concern. 

“Yep, silly. Good as gold.” I said. 

She looked at me for a while, trying to read both my face and mind but I kept them blank. She gave up and buried her auburn hair back into her pillow, muttering a ‘good night’. I waited but she went out immediately, like a light bulb. I crept out of my bed, tip-toed to the washroom to wash mud from my feet, pull pine-needles and twigs out of my hair and flush them down the toilet. Waiting was hard. So was hiding everything from Amber because she could read minds. I didn't have a moment of peace since a year ago when my dad died in a gruesome accident and my closest friend was suffering a fate worse than death. I looked at the mirror above sink. A dark-haired teenage girl stared back at me. I glanced at my wavy, dark hair, lightly tanned face and my big, deep blue eyes. My best feature, I am often told. This was me: Clara Smith, the girl whose dad died, the girl who got scholarship that she didn’t deserve, the girl who is waiting for something. I smiled when I saw cuts on my neck. It looked like the wait would be over soon. 

I marvelled at how much my life had changed. A year ago, I was a happy, care-free teen, had a loving family and circle of close friends. Now my dad was dead, my family broke and I was hundred miles away in the boarding school of the famous college I had scholarship for. The school which was not school.  

It all started when dad got a new job. He was scientist and got an offer to work at a prestigious research institute out in country. The salary was thrice the previous one along with rent-free house to live in. It was an offer too good to refuse and within a month, we were standing outside our new house in the country. I kept up a brave face for dad, though I was miserable inside. I was missing my friends, my old house and my school. We tried to settle down into our new lives in a new town. I went to a high school, few blocks away from my house. It was smaller than my previous school. 

The first day, I was greeted with stares and comments from everyone. It went on for few days, after which everyone lost interest in me. I didn’t make any friends. My attempts to socialise with my class-mates were met with cold stares and lame excuses. The desk next to me in class was always empty and during recess, I had my lunch outside, alone under a big, oak tree. I was sad all the time and missed my friends like crazy. In the second week, someone sat next to me in class. I looked up from my Bon-Haber Cycle equation and met the eyes of the boy staring at me. He had tousled, white-blond hair, emerald eyes and tall, lean figure. What really caught my attention was his skin. It was deathly pale, like snow. I tore my eyes away from his and looked back at my equation. I could feel his eyes on me, all through the lesson. When the class was over, I started shoving my books in bag when I heard: 

“What’s your name?” 

I looked around to see that boy staring at me. 

“Clara Smith." I replied. 

“Pleased to meet you, Clara Smith. I am Julian Fangson.” He gave a tight smile and held out his hand. I shook it after a brief hesitation. His hand was hard and cold. Like chip of ice. 

He joined me under my lonely spot under the oak tree in recess. I warmed up to him and poured out my tale of moving and weird attitude of kids in this school. We became firm friends after that. We sat next to each other in class, hung out during recess and did ‘group-study’ for tests over my house. He was quiet and polite. My parents liked him. So did Jason. On my 17th birthday, he gave me the orange lava-lamp. 

“To brighten up your cave-room." he joked when I opened it. 

As nice as he was, it was not hard to notice that my best friend was a little strange. He was frequently absent from school, sometimes for a whole week. The kids in school avoided him. During class, they looked at him with strange expression: fear and loathing. During a recess in winter, I confronted him. 

“Why does everyone avoid you? Like they hate you or something.” I asked, munching on cold fries. 

He paused, looking at the snowflakes falling around us. He fell into a deep thought and I had to poke him to bring him around. 

“A perfectly normal reaction towards someone whose father has murdered 3 people.” he said, bitterly. 

I was shocked into silence while he glared at his sneakers. 

“Why didn’t you tell me about this before.” I said angrily. “I tell you everything and you hid things from me!” 

“Because if I had told you, you would have left me! Like all of my other friends did. This is what you are gonna do now. Walk away! No-one wants to befriend a murderer’s son, Clara.” 

I stood up, a storm of emotions boiling inside me and grabbed his collar. 

“Get one thing straight, Julian Fangson.” I yelled. “I am NOT gonna leave you! I don’t care if your dad has murdered a 100 people. You are, will and always be my best friend.” 

Julian’s pale face lighted up with joy and he squeezed my hand with gratitude. 

“Why do you stay absent for so long?” I asked after a while. 

He gave me a wan smile and said, “You won't believe me.” 

“I will. Come on Julian. Tell me!” I pleaded. 

“Do you promise to keep it a secret?” He asked. 

“I promise.” 

“Cross your heart?” 

“Yep. Jeez Julian! Get over with it.” 

He paused again, locked his eyes with mine and said “I am a vampire.” 

I laughed it off, considering it a joke but he remained serious and assured me that he was a vampire. 

“Prove it.” I challenged him. And he did. He proved it many ways. 

Anyways, I adjusted to the fact that my best friend was a vampire, kept his secret and learnt many things about the super-natural world and creatures living along with humans. Julian believed in magic and claimed that there was some magic in my aura. I just rolled my eyes. He confessed that he was tired of not aging and watching his loved ones die, left alone. 

Around January, something exciting came up at school. Some people from Woodside Academy, a popular school in West-England, were coming to our school to handpick 3 lucky students for a 2 year, fully-funded scholarship there. I was excited for it because without scholarship, it was too expensive for me and the usual acceptance rate was 0.5%. Whole school was abuzz over it. Julian just smirked.  

“They are a band of witch-trainers.” he confided to me in recess. “They do this hand-picking to get students that have magic inside them. The academics are just a cover. Their sole purpose is to find kids that have magic in their souls and train them how to use it.” 

“Why would they do that?” I asked curiously. 

“Well, having people under you who can do magic gives you a great power. You can use them to get whatever you want.” he said wisely. “I fully expect you to be picked. I sensed magic in your aura quite a long time ago.” 

He was right. My name was on the list of the selected awardees after the interview. Julian’s name was there to along with a transfer student named Amber Swift. Julian and I whopped. I departed for home on a cloud of happiness. It evaporated when I saw a police cruiser and an ambulance on my drive-way. I went inside the house in a daze. Jason and mom were crying while two cops stood near them, helpless expressions on their faces.  

“What’s wrong? Mom, what happened?” I managed to speak, fearing the answer. 

“Daddy’s dead, Clar. A truck smashed into his car when he was coming back.” Jason said, tears running down his face. My heart crushed and I broke down, crying. We had funeral in our old town. I felt numb and hollow. Julian came to funeral alone.  

“I am sorry for your loss.” he whispered in my ear. “Be strong, Clara. You have to be strong for you mom and brother. I am here for you.”  

I sobbed on his shoulder and thanked him. We moved back to our old house. Mom struggled to find a job. I got letter from Woodside Academy. I have to join them on 15 March. It was a month away. I discussed it with mom who agreed that I should finish my 2 years of free education over there as there was no money for other schools. I went there with Julian.  They thought us magic there. There were normal classes in morning and magical studies in evening. We learnt about magical history, potions, palm magic, element-magic and communication magic. I studied every single thing with passion, both magical and normal academics. I had responsibility to take care of my mom and little brother and I wanted to get perfect score for that. I came across something in Magical History that turned my world around. Miss Maas, our M.H teacher was giving us a lecture on ‘Resurrection of Animals and its effect on extinction theory’ and mentioned a ritual that Byzantine magicians used to bring dead back to life or to give the soul back to parasites. I questioned Julian about it after the class. 

“It's not reliable.” he said. “The ritual is so dangerous that no one dared to test it out yet. Most complex ingredients are needed. You get nightmares and see spirits everywhere.” 

“I want to try it out. I have been waiting for something like this since ages.” I said, hotly. 

“I won’t help you, Clara. I won’t put your life in danger.” 

“Fine!” I shouted and left in a huff, him staring at me with hurt look in his eyes. 

I sought help in library and found everything in a dusty, old book titled ‘Resuscitation of the Extinct’. 

1. Say ‘Yavar das de tum ki musr toma ung’ five times before going to bed. This magical verse will connect your soul to realm of dead. You will encounter this place in your dreams every night. 
2. Make a potion from wounds of the dead, hair of murderer’s child, blood of the innocent and pour it in mouth of the corpse you want to resurrect.  
3. Then wait till a solar eclipse. 

I fingered the gashes on my neck in the mirror, took a test-tube from my pocket and dribbled the blood into it. I had ‘wounds of dead’ and ‘murderer's child’s hair. I took them a week ago. Julian was on a boys’ hiking trips so I sneaked into his room and pulled out a single, fair hair from his hairbrush on the dresser. All that was left was the ‘blood of the innocent’. I pondered over how to get it but got no idea except taking blood of an infant, but how? I got frustrated with lack of process and waiting.  I got dismissed from class today for not paying attention and wandered outside to have another brainstorm. I carefully concealed everything from Julian because I knew he won't let me do this ritual. Walking on, I saw a bunch of kittens playing in bed of tulips and froze. Blood of the innocent. Isn't new-born animal innocent too? I took out the Swiss Army knife from my pocket, muttered a sorry to the kitten and made a slash on its coat while it meowed in pain. I collected its blood in a vial and ran inside to make the potion. 

It got ready by midnight and smelt like death. Literally. Like old clothes, rotten cheese, dead leaves, charcoal and incense. It was thick and black. I put it in a test-tube and pulled the solar chart towards me. According it, next solar eclipse was a fortnight away. I ground my teeth and cursed at the thought of more waiting. I couldn't wait to set everything right. The night of solar eclipse came after an agonizing, long wait. I asked Julian to meet me in a thicket of trees, five miles from the dorm, after 10 pm. He raised his eyebrows and agreed, grinning. I needed his cooperation to pull this ritual off. I sneaked out of the dorm at 9:45 and sprinted to the woods. Gasping for breath, I leaned against the pine tree, keeping out an eye for Julian. Julian came after a while. Rest is a blur. He sensed something was not right and tried to back away but I leapt at him and grabbed his throat, pinning him to the ground. Although he was faster and stronger than me, the element of surprise ruled in my favour and I shoved the test-tube of potion down his throat. He realized what it was, probably from the smell, and tried to make himself vomit but I clamped my hand on his mouth. As he blacked out, the look in his eyes said that he won’t ever forgive me for this.  

I sat back on the ground, panting as the full, blood moon rose higher in the sky, casting ominous shadows. I waited with baited breath. Again, minutes stretched into hours. I started getting dark thoughts that maybe I made the wrong potion that ended up poisoning Julian instead of giving back his soul. Every second seemed an eternity as I waited for some sign. Suddenly he coughed violently and sat up, disorientated.  

“Julian! Are you all right?” I asked tentatively as I edged near him. 

“Did you give me the Resurrection Potion?” he asked. 

“Yeah, I did. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about it. You would never had agreed to it.” I said with tears in my eyes. 

He touched the wounds on my neck, the ones that I got from visiting to realm of the Dead, processing everything in his brain. 

“Julian, are you ok?” I asked again. 

He took my hand in his. It was warm and soft. 

“Better than ok. Thank you, Clara.” 

We broke down into tears of joy. He was human again. He got his soul back. And I got what I was waiting for.