My Soul to Keep - By Sean Hayden

Prologue

Ever have one of those bad ideas just pop into your head? You know the ones. They seem like a great idea at the time, but if you had stopped to think about it a moment…

I'm talking about those ideas where you just seize the moment and do what your heart tells you to. Then, after the dust settles and you get bandaged up, your parents say, "What the hell were you thinking?"

"But, Dad, I wasn't!"

I had one of those moments.

I guess if you want to be technical, I had a whole chain of those moments leading up to the big bang moment. The problem was I didn't have anyone standing around saying, "What the hell were you thinking?"

The moral of this story?

There are several.

First, stores don't sell black candles for a reason. They're bad news. If you happen to come across one in the mall that sells questionable items…walk away. Trust me on this one. Black candles are bad.

Second, always know what you want out of life. Coasting along, not caring about anything will get you into trouble. Maybe more than you can handle.

Lastly, if someone offers to grant you your fondest wish, wish for something you really, truly want. Wish for something that will make the world a better place or you a better person. Never ever wish to be a monster…

Chapter 1

I kicked at the latch on the heavy wooden door and got it on the first shot. I felt a sense of accomplishment as it clicked open and the warm air from inside my house poured out into the chilly October night. Early evenings have always been my favorite. I always feel more alive just as the sun starts to set.

A nice quiet house after a long day of dreary school never failed to make me smile. Both of my rents would be at their jobs for at least two more hours, and my little sister would be at cheerleading practice just as long. Life can be complicated unless you figure out what you love and abuse the hell out of it.

My love is solitude, and I planned on enjoying it. I dumped my backpack on the floor just inside the door and placed the books I held in my other hand on top of it. I probably should have set them down outside and used my hand to open the door, but they were books. You don’t put books on the ground, ever. Besides, I'd gotten quite proficient in opening our usually unlocked house with my feet. Thankfully we had one of those old style thumb latches. If we had doorknobs, I’d have to grow a thumb on my foot. That would suck in gym class. The jocks already made my life a living hell. Having a thumb on my foot would just make it more unbearable.

I walked onto the set of a 1970’s sitcom. Just kidding. My parents had all the house decorating ability of a pimp named HuggieBear. I tried not to stare at the red and yellow plaid couches as I practically ran to the stairs. They hurt my eyes. Before my foot hit the first stair, I remembered I had homework. I turned and ran back to get my backpack and books. Before Playstation, there must be homework! My parents enforced very few rules, but homework first had always been numero uno. If I hurried, I could still abuse the hell out of the “me time” remaining.

Backpack on shoulder and books in hand, I ran up the stairs two at a time and straight into the bowels of hell. Or as my sister calls it, my room. Few have entered, none have returned needed to be stenciled on the door. I’d been begging for permission for months. Slowly wear them down, Connor. Slowly wear them down. My parents rarely said no, but we were renting the house. I bet myself two weeks ago I would have it up by the end of the month.

My wondrous new literary finds, I set on my bookcase for later perusal. I tossed the backpack on my beat up, looked like it came out of a 1920’s schoolhouse, had more chemicals spilled on it than a science lab floor, carved up, broken, battered, little wooden desk and pulled out my algebra book. Without opening it, I held my hand over the cover, palm up, and slowly curled all but one finger back into a fist. Yes, I gave my algebra book the finger. It’s childish I know,