Imbroglio

Chapter 1: Photosynthesized Passion

 

For the students of Columbus High School, no task was more quixotic than featuring Allison Senka in the school yearbook. Even Ms. Peterson, the yearbook teacher, thought the idea was out of the question, and Ray knew it. So why, Ray wondered, was he so shocked when his proposal was met with blank laughter?

“Dude-” Zach stuttered between exasperated hoots. “You can’t write about a nobody like her!”

“Yeah!” Jerry added. “I bet most people don’t even know that she exists!”

“I can do it!” Ray protested. “Soon the world will know the truth about Allison Senka!”

Zach coughed, choking on inhaled amusement. “What about the portrait?” He sneered.

“I’ll just… take a picture of her…” Ray confusedly replied, gesturing to his digital camera.

“You’d be better off taking a picture of a ghost!” Jerry heckled.

Ray clenched his fists, sweat trickling down his neck. “I’ll show you!” Raising his voice, Ray stood up onto the table, left foot staggered on a chair. “Every student within the brick walls of this educational establishment will know of Allison’s plights. You will wake up everyday lying beside a copy of this year’s yearbook as a reminder that Allison Senka was featured. Every night you will brush your teeth and taste the minty freshness of my accomplishments burning in your mouth. The 23rd annual Columbus High School Yearbook will make history!”

Electric flowers of passion photosynthesizing in his pancreas, Ray gazed down among his fellow classmates and observed the work of his torch-passing voice. The torch was then promptly extinguished with a taiko drum of shattering exhales, filled to the brim with malicious hilarity. As if barraged by a thousand paintball pellets of perpetuated peeping pops shot from a cannon, Ray was thrown back, his cherry face slipping across the disapproving linoleum.

“That’s enough!” Ms. Peterson’s steel voice sliced through the buttery giggles. “If we cannot work together as a team, the chances of publishing anything this year will remain at zero percent. If you would all like to actually accomplish something during your sophomore year, I suggest you become more supportive of your fellow classmates, especially when history-preserving passion is involved. Otherwise, you are welcome to leave.”

The room became a graveyard of criminals, and Ms. Peterson’s cheddar-like retinas scanned the room for any twitching statues. Wobbling on three limbs, Ray pushed himself onto his neon red velcro sneakers and flopped back into his chair. 

Like waking up from a bad dream, the gunshot of the school bell rang across the hall. Within seconds, the classroom was emptier than the vegetable aisle on Black Friday, and Ms. Peterson stood in her blue-vested work uniform, staring at the last customer filling his cart. Ray unglued his eyes from his cauliflower and gazed at Ms. Peterson. Hoisting his bag upon his shoulders, he slumped down as he was shot with a 15 megaton weight: “Can I have a quick word with you?”

Although Ray was well aware that Ms. Peterson would in fact want more than one  quick word and instead several quite lengthy words like “responsibility”, he entertained her by shuffling up to her thin, wooden desk. Gazing down upon him as if watching a Christmas Special, Ms. Peterson smiled solemnly. “So, you seem very eager to take up this responsibility.”

“I am.” Ray stated, pulling his lute from the front pocket of his backpack. “I even wrote a song about it.” Clearing his throat, the bard began his tale:

It was Friday,

And I wanted to feature Allison,

So I did.

Ms. Peterson gave a polite golf clap as Ray seduced the oxygen into his lungs and returned the lute to his bag. “Well,” the yearbook teacher began, “if you’re that passionate about it, just give me a draft before the end of the semester, and we can revise it in class.”

“Oh, I will.” Ray looked into the camera. “You’ll see… You will see…”

Ms. Peterson awkwardly looked side to side, perplexed as Ray continued to stand in the same spot while the bell chimed again. Ms. Peterson’s 2nd Block class filed in, staring at the determined monument before them. “Ok…?” Ms. Peterson replied.

And so, Ray began to track the elusive Allison Senka for the rest of the school day. Ray stared in a non-stalkerish fashion as Allison entered the Algebra classroom. She always sat in the back of the class beside the division tables, with the window resting to her right so shadows enveloped her. When class began she opened her composition book and scribbled notes as the teacher babbled like tv static. She never raised her hand, and when the familiar chime cut from above she packed up her books and shuffled smoothly out of the room, seemingly avoiding any contact with the classmates. 

Then English happened. Allison took her usual spot by the window and Ray observed with even more non-creepy intensity. Allison zipped her backpack ajar, and slipped out her notebook. She flipped to the first blank page and set her pencil upon the dead trees. Graphite residue was scattered across the lined canvas, creating symbols that appeared to be letters in the English alphabet. The letters formed into words, and the words formed into sentences of educational importance. This technique was known as taking notes. Then, the intercom screamed: “ding dong ding dong (pause) ding dong ding dong.” And Allison placed her collection of dead trees into her transportation device. Standing up from the stupid student desk thing, she used her left and right feet alternatively to exit the classroom.

Then lunch descended upon the students of Columbus High School. Ray watched intently as Allison ate what some call a Peanut Butter & Jelly Sandwich on Wheat Bread. It was quite the interesting spectacle.

And then 4th block was history and Allison wasn’t in Ray’s class so he just stared intently at the wall.

The final bell chimed like a thousand sirens and students flooded out of the metal doors. Ray used the students as cover and leaped behind the bushes like dust. It was at that moment when Ray activated his special move, SNEAK MODE. When in sneak mode, Ray was completely invisible, untouchable, and undetectable. No one would see Ray coming, and he would finally be able to get the jump on Allison and write the best god damn yearbook feature Maine had ever seen. Nothing could stop Ray now, not even-

“Uhh… Ray?” The words spilled out of Will’s mouth like beans. “What are you doing?”

“Shhh, shut up. I’m using SNEAK MODE right now.” Ray ventriloquisted. “You’re going to give away my position.”

“Ok…?” Will walked off. He had been friends with Ray long enough to know not to question him when he was in his, “zone”.

Once it seemed the wave of educated individuals had quieted, Ray spotted Allison shuffling within the shadows of her peers. Ray shuffled across the leaves beside Allison, which Allison definitely noticed, but didn’t care enough to pay attention to. The two students shuffled down to the outskirts of town, until Allison halted in front of a shadowed, elegant, run-down house. Stepping up the black marble, she blended into the house as the door shut behind her.

Exposing himself by jumping out from the bushes, Ray shivered as he stepped up the neglected marble. Gazing upon the mile-high door, Ray hesitantly rocked his knuckles upon the splintered wood. 

Even though he was the one to initiate the confrontation, Ray jumped when Allison unshut the door and blankly said, “what”.

“Hey.” Ray proudly stated. “Um… Are you open for an interview?”

Ray assumed the answer when he was once more greeted by the splintered wood and the sound of forgotten nostalgia rang through his ears. He immediately knocked again and shouted, “IMINTHEYEARBOOKTEAMANDINEEDTOFEATUREYOUINTHEYEARBOOKITSMYDREAM”

Allison peeked out from inside, then slammed the door even harsher than the previous instance, mumbling “Go away.”

Without any precautions, Ray banged the door once again, only to hear Allison shout, “I SAID GO AWAY!”

Suddenly, Ray noticed a dark spot from within the shadows dashing towards him. A massive wave of energy blasted from the shadows, sending Ray flying. It was at that moment he knew:

He fucked up.

Ray landed on the asphalt, the Senka residence looming on the horizon. Getting back up on his sneakers and brushing the blood from his shins, thousands of questions dashed in his cranium: What was that shadow? How am I not dead? Who the FUCK is Allison Senka?

But as Ray pondered these questions, he couldn’t help but smile. His curiosity had been piqued, his passion resurrected, and Ray was more committed than ever to feature Allison Senka in the 23rd annual Columbus High School yearbook.

Chapter 2: Poorly-executed Pursuit

Chapter 3: Hatred History

Ray groaned as he struggled to wake up. His entire body felt sore, as if he had participated in the 27th annual full-body belly flop competition. He strained against the weight of eyelids, expecting to recoil from bright light.

Instead, the room he lay in seemed much duller. There were no windows, preventing the dark room from being interrupted, and most of the things in the room were colored some shade of black. Drawers and shelves lined the walls, dust populating their streets and smothering various objects including a mirror, an old sesame seed, and an abandoned quiche. The entire room felt like a silent dance that also happened to feature a black light disco ball, and Ray felt as if he had interrupted the solemn silence of a library by stooping down to retrieve a dropped pencil.

Above the grand door, a quaint-looking portrait rested on the wall, depicting a medieval gentleman, a snooty aristocratic character, some sort of gang-star, and an annoyed Allison, along with a placard that read SENKA etched below the figures.

Wait… Allison! That’s right! Ray jumped onto his feet as his morning drowsiness was tossed into the wastepaper basket. There were… shadows… and… electricity? The details of the crazy phenomena that occurred the night before had evaded Ray’s grasp, but he knew that it was shocking. He dashed toward the door in an undying pursuit for answers!

Ray’s undying pursuit was swiftly executed as his knees went numb and he collapsed onto the neglected floor like an origami. Pain washed over him as he writhed in sore electrocution. The tide started to rise up, and the numbness made the swimming pool of pain somewhat relaxing. 

“Are you awake yet?” Allison’s voice interrupted the silent black-light party as the door slammed ajar. Ray’s pool of pain quickly became a overexcited hot tub as the wood of the swinging door smacked him upside the noggin.

“AGH” Ray responded as Allison sighed at the humiliating display of an undying pursuit for answers.

“You’re pathetic.” She groaned, reaching out her arm to help him up. Ray grasped her wrist and regained his footing on his spaghetti legs. Ray stumbled onto his sleeping platform and looked up at Allison. “Well…?”

“What?” Allison shrugged.

Ray counted on his fingers down the list. “1. Where am I? 2. What the heck happened last night? 3. What’s up with the portrait? 4. Interview?”

Allison loop-de-looped her retinas. “1. My house 2. You don’t need to know 3. None of your business 4. No”

“So this is your house?” Ray searched the Where’s Waldo page that is Allison’s house for any light, coming up short. “It’s… pretty dark.”

“Yep.” She awkwardly cured the silence with nodding before remembering her objective. “And now you need to leave.”

“What? No!” Ray stood up quickly onto his slightly less pasta appendages. “Not without an explanation!”

“Really?” Allison raised her right hand as the shadows on her palm seemed to fold like a piece of paper into a dodgeball of darkness, the room getting slightly brighter. “You really want to test me right now? I could just throw you out, you know.”

Ray menacingly glanced down onto the black oak. “I didn’t want to use this, but I guess I have no choice.” Ray stretched his mouth to reveal his teeth while glancing into Allison’s eyes. Whether they were terrified or confused, Ray couldn’t tell. “You may have shadow powers, but I have an ability of my own.”

Ray summoned all of his will, destroying an internal vault that kept his modes in check. Once he found what he was looking for, he smirked. “I activate: WHINING MODE!”

Ray instantly fell to his knees, performing a kowtow to Allison. “PLEEEASE!” His voice cracked, the sound creaking out from his vocal chords. “I PROMISE I’LL NEVER ANNOY YOU AGAIN!” Ray started to kiss Allison’s shoes in humiliation, despite her attempts to back away.

“Stop!” She slapped Ray with a shadow bullet, but he remained unfazed while in WHINING MODE. “PLEEEEEEEAAAAASe!” Ray barely made out, his voice starting to die mid-word.

“Fine! Just stop with this ‘whining mode’ or whatever the fuck you’re doing right now. Just stop.” Ray sprung up and sat down once again, deactivating WHINING MODE. Allison sat on the bed next to him, and with a sigh, she began her history lesson.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Gerald Senka traversed skyward, feeling the slight pressure on his ankles with every step up the cobble staircase. A monumental arch led the way into an aristocratic-looking castle. Gerald could almost hear the echo of many past feasts and joyous occasions held in the grand hall of Castle Afolabi. 

As Senka stepped into the room, he felt as though he had passed a threshold of wealth. He was bombarded with pompous architecture and golden artifacts, their lustrous surfaces reflecting even more wealth. All of this wealth revolved around a grand dining table, where the rest of the kings sat patiently.

Gerald took his seat next to Malcolm Pyrus, decorated in his usual attire. Beautiful colors of arson jumped out from the articulate embroidery along each sleeve. Gerald felt humbled in his simple dark black coat, but he sat tall, the chair a straightedge to his back.

“Is that everyone?” Fredrick Afolabi asked, standing proud from the end of the mile-wide table.

“I believe so, yes.” Vincent Oroitz stated.

“Well, I believe you know why I called you here today.” Fredrick spoke. “Have you noticed the silence?”

Robert Phobos leaned closer. “You aren’t saying-“

“We killed them.” Fredrick celebrated. “Our archers got them.”

Johnathon Rostislav set down his chalice of wine. “How did they do it?” He doubtfully gazed up at Afolabi. “They’ve terrorized our lands for generations, and they were slain with simple arrows?”

“Not exactly.” Fredrick reached down and revealed an arrow to the group, as if clicking to the next slide on a PowerPoint presentation. “You see these barbs on the sides of the head?” He gestured to the point of the arrow. “These allowed us to pierce beneath the scales of the dragon.”

“But how did you confirm the kill?” Cedric Iorwerth asked, wearing a worried face.

“We ventured to where they fell and finished them off.” Fredrick waved his hands over a collection of lustrous objects. “I’ve brought the scales from them to prove it.”

“This is… amazing!” Pyrus celebrated. “We should hold a feast!”

“Of course!” Fredrick announced. “But while we’re here, I propose a toast!”

“Yes, about that…” Gerald Senka lifted his chalice cautiously. “What is up with this wine? Such a peculiar color…”

“I’m glad you asked!” Afolabi held up the scales. “I decided that as a display of our victory, we consume the essence of our enemies! I mixed in the scales with the wine.”

“Amazing!” Iorwerth held up his chalice. “To many good years ahead!”

Chalices clinked and the scaled wine was gulped down. The kings left to gather their subjects for a grand feast at sundown.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

“And then they all died.” 

“What!?” Ray said in surprise.

“Yep. The kings all died a week later.” Allison mumbled nonchalantly. 

“But-but-but-” Ray stuttered. “Why all at the same time?”

“The scales were inedible, very poisonous.” Allison blankly stated. “They all died.”

“Ok… so what does that have to do with you and that boy having abilities?” Ray leaned closer, intrigued. 

“Well, the scales had mutated the DNA in the king’s sperm, so after they all got laid drunk at the feast, their descendants gained special abilities. Senka gained shadow abilities, Iorwerth with electricity, Pyrus with fire, Rostislav with plants, Orowitz with memory manipulation, and Afolabi with radio waves.”

“What about Phobos?”

“No one knows.” Allison sighed. “His heir committed suicide before he had children.”

“So why were you fighting with Iorwerth?”

“Well, after the kings died, their families blamed each other for poisoning the drinks. Most blamed Afolabi, as he hosted the toast, but Iorwerth was also suspicious for starting the toast, and the Senka family blamed Pyrus as he sat beside him. So, a blood feud ensued for several centuries. It’s mostly dead right now, Pyrus is the only one still salty. I was just fighting Alan because he’s an asshole.”

“So… it’s an imbroglio.”

“A what?”

“An imbroglio. A problem created from a misunderstanding. This whole thing is just one big imbroglio.”

“Isn’t it pronounced imbroilio?”

“Whatever.”

Allison stood up with a sigh. “And now, it’s time for you to leave.”

“Wait!” Ray scrambled for his camera. “What about an interview?”

Allison crossed her arms. “I explained to you the ‘imbroglio’. That was the deal.”

“But-” Ray’s begs were quickly interrupted as he was grasped by an arm of shadows. Allison slowly walked on the rickety wood floor, carrying Ray towards the door.

“Please! Just a few questions!” Ray struggled against the shadows. Despite appearing as just shadow, the arm felt firm and solid, almost flesh-like as it gripped Ray’s torso.

 

Standing outside the front door, carefully avoiding the rays of sunshine, Allison tossed Ray onto the ground. Before he had a chance to continue protesting, a barrier of shadows started to rise up over Allison’s ankles. She waved goodbye as the tide of shadows rose.

The wall was then crushed when Allison was suddenly pulled into the sun’s spotlight by a thin, verdant wire. Vines sprouted out of the soil, latching her arms and legs tight against the ground. Ray started to think this was the start of some creepy BDSM porn when he too was secured onto the earth. Allison nudged her head up to face Ray. “Balls.”

“What is happening?” Ray yelled, struggling and straining his wrists against the grass.

Allison sighed. “The Rostislavs.”

A soft march of footsteps approached, and Ray rolled his eyes upward to see his captors. A tall woman was leaning against a handsome-looking gentleman in a green tuxedo and a bow tie. His hair was slicked to the side, and a pair of thick spectacles slept upon his nose. The woman had an elegant dandelion dress, the fabric flowering off like petals on the sleeves. She wore a pair of grass flats and short, blonde hair. Both of them wore toothy, enthusiastic smiles.

“Another successful capture by the great Rostislav crew!” The man posed like a superhero while the woman excitingly giggled.

“We couldn’t have done it without you, Eric!” She gave a thumbs up, as if expecting a standing ovation from the two teenagers locked onto the ground.

“Umm… who are you?” Ray muffled, half of his face gagged by the blades of grass.

The man looked down at him with a puzzled look, then huddled together with the woman, concealing their mouths with their hands.

“I seem to have captured a bystander.”

“A witness?”

“Well, he seemed to have some connection to the target.”

“Maybe we should take him out too. We can’t allow any word of our operation to get out.”

“You raise an excellent point, Clara. Shall we introduce ourselves?”

“I’ll get the confetti!”

The couple turned around, the man clearing his throat. Cars drove past in the exposing daylight, slightly glancing at the debacle before carrying on. The man pushed up his glasses with a mischievous smirk.

“Greetings, fellow youth!” He saluted at Ray. “I am Eric Rostislav, the greatest mastermind, conquistador, and desperado Maine has ever seen!”

His pupils twinkled as he looked into the clouds. “I have come to settle my father’s father’s father’s father’s father’s father’s father’s father’s father’s father’s father’s father’s father’s father’s father’s father’s father’s father’s father’s father’s father’s father’s father’s father’s father’s father’s father’s father’s father’s father’s father’s 

rivalry against the wretched Senka family!”

The woman turned to face Ray, splashing confetti as if she were throwing a rose to an audience of captives. “And I am Clara Rostislav, protector of nature and all things right and just!”

The two posed together, modeling for an imaginary movie poster. “Together, we are the Rostislav duo, fighting in the name of love, passion, and-” the two of them took one last pose before shouting in unison. “GLORY!”

The couple remained in their movie poster for what felt like several minutes before Eric Rostislav stooped down to Ray’s confetti-coated face. “And who might you be, hm?” Eric moved closer until he was practically nose-to-nose with Ray. “An accomplice? Allison’s partner in crime?”

“Um… I’m just-” Ray started, interrupted by a slap from Clara. 

“Spit it out, kid! Who are you working for!” She demanded.

Eric glanced up at Clara, concerned. “Honey, go easy on the boy.”

She looked down, frowning. “Well, you always get to be the bad cop.”

“Aww, honey…” Eric put his hand on Clara’s shoulder. “I promise you can be the bad cop next time.”

“Really?” Her eyes glimmered.

“Of course!” Eric laughed, lifting Ray up off the ground, the vines tightening around him like rope as they disconnected from the ground. “Would you do the honors of taking the girl?”

“I’d love to!” Clara picked up Allison, her absent struggles matching her bored, mildly annoyed expression. 

The Rostislavs slipped Ray and Allison into the trunk of their SUV like cartons of milk. “Don’t try any funny business!” Clara demanded with a tough exterior as the two high schoolers responded with blank and confused faces. She shut the hinged trunk door and the car started to accelerate as a radio playing elevator music started up.

The trunk was filled with dozens of lightbulbs, hanging from the car ceiling. The intense spotlight blinded Ray and seemed to peeve Allison to an unprecedented extent.

“What’s up with the lights?” Ray whispered to Allison.

She sighed, obviously irritated. “It prevents from any shadows. Without shadows, my powers are useless.”

“Hey, quiet down back there!” Clara squabbled over the cookie cutter melody.

Ray leaned his restricted body against the wall and let his mind ponder as the engine ran underneath his thoughts. Allison awkwardly lay there, impatiently waiting for this entire situation to end. And as the car approached the Rostislav residence, she could see that her torture of being pursued by Ray would last a lot longer than she had hoped.