Chapter 1: Chapter 1- The Day I Woke Up With Blue Hair

AMILYN

I have a question…

What line of thinking would be crossing someone's mind when they come up with the bright idea of sneaking into someone's room in the dead of the night and somehow manages to accomplish the seemingly impossible task of dyeing said someone's hair all while making sure they don't wake up their victim? And more importantly, why would they do such a thing? What is this, some sort of twisted prank? I don't remember crossing someone as of late ( I mean I sure hope I didn't cross someone).

Okay, you must be wondering what I'm talking about (or if you have any ounce of context clues reading abilities, maybe you've already got an idea of what I'm dealing with).

Yes, esteemed ladies and gentlemen. I, a non-suspecting victim, woke up to an unwelcome surprise this morning. There I was, groggily getting up after snoozing my alarm for the fifth time, heading to the bathroom still half-awake, when a blur of blue caught my eye. Okay, weird. I splash some water on my face and force myself to wake up and look at the mirror. At first I thought I was still dreaming, because the face looking back at me is curiously similar to my own, with one exception: the one in front of me had a full head of ocean blue hair. 

I mean, that can't be right. Unless this isn't a mirror and I'm looking at the face of a long-lost twin who is going through a mid-life crisis and is trying to cope by taking vengeance on her innocent hair. 

I experimentally raise my hand. The image in front of me does the same. I pick my nose, she does as well. I grab a handful of my supposed to be jet black hair, she imitates me. 

That's it. I'm definitely dreaming. How else would I explain this sudden change in my hair's hue? 

Hmm, they say if you want to wake up from a dream, you just pinch yourself. And so I do. I close my eyes, pinch my cheeks as hard as I could, and open my eyes again.

Yep. She's still there. Or should I say, I'm still there, complete with my freshly dyed hair.

Okay, I know I should probably panic. I mean, someone is obviously playing a prank on me. Weird prank, but hey, you know what kids get to these days. 

Still, I gotta say, I look hella good with this new do. Whoever did this took the time to choose a flattering color. And it's well-done, the color is full coverage and evenly applied. Whoever did this must have watched a lot of Brad Mondo shows. 

It's like I'm finally entering my angsty teenage stage ( though I doubt I have any ounce of angst in my body). It's good. Kinda like rebelling for the first time. Now all that's left is some nail polish, some metallica clothes, a Harley, spiked boots, a couple ear piercings, and viola, I'll be reborn. 

Okay okay. I'm getting carried away in my little daydreams. I really have to get serious and sort this problem out. I mean, I can't go to school with blue hair, the guards will single me out before I even make it to the front gate. Besides, blue clashes with our lavender school uniform. I don't wanna be an abomination to the color wheel. I have to fix this. Then I'll figure out whose idea of a sick joke this is. Maybe I'll steal one of each of his pairs of socks, or I glitter bomb his locker. 

But before that, I have to fix this hair. I remember nana has some black hair color in her cabinet. Maybe that can help. 

"Nana? Do you still have some of that hair dye you use to hide your gray hair?" I call out from the bathroom. 

No response. Hmm, that's weird. By this time she should already be in the kitchen, brewing her morning cocoa drink and playing Mozart for her flowers. Did she sleep in?

I stealthily make my way to the kitchen, hoping to not reveal my brightly colored hair. 

Nope, she's not here. 

Outside, lightning flashes, followed by loud rumbling thunder. It's early in the morning, and the forecast was for sunny skies all day long, but looks like the skies had other ideas. Black clouds are looming over, heavy raindrops cascade against the roof, and the howling wind is echoing throughout the apartment.

Well, the weather forecast is never accurate anyways. Maybe there's a storm going on. Didn't catch that on the news. 

"Nana? You there?" I ask again as I walk towards her room. 

"Nana?" I shout this time, remembering that my grandma already has some trouble hearing. 

I'm halfway there when the phone rings. 

"Hello?"

"Is this the Verity residence?" says the woman on the phone, who I recognize to be Mrs. Dudds, my homeroom adviser.

"Yes, it is."

You are reading story Bagani at novel35.com

"Great. I'm just calling to inform that classes have been suspended today due to the extreme weather conditions. We'll update you when classes will resume."

"Great, thanks."

And that's that. I guess I don't have to worry about going to school today. 

"Nana? School called. Classes have been canceled. Apparently there's a freak storm going on," I call out. 

Still no reply. Maybe she went out?

No way! In this weather? What is she thinking?! Her arthritis has been acting up lately and she can't walk too far without heaving. What if she looses her footing and slips? She's too old to have any form of injury. 

I hurriedly make my way towards my room to get my jacket, sure that nana is already in some form of mortal danger and is in dire need of my help. That's when I see it: a small wooden box lain in the center of our dining table.

I stop dead in my tracks, the object seemingly pulling me towards it. 

Honestly, it's so out of place that I can't believe I didn't notice it earlier. It has such an aura to it, a force that beckons me to come closer, a voice whispering in my ear, enthralling me to approach. 

I can't resist the call. Slowly, as if being pulled by invisible strings, I approach the box. 

I take it in my hands. It's such a small thing. A cube about three inches across. There's a simple latch mechanism on top of it. Simple, unadorned, unassuming. But there's something about it that that's just so…. appealing. 

Carefully, I undo the latch and lift the cover. Inside is a what seems to be a pearl. It's roughly round in shape, luminous white. 

I take it in my hands, careful, afraid I might break it. At first, it feels warm to the touch, like a ray of sunlight on my skin. For such a cold day, I must say I enjoyed the feeling of warmth. It was a rather pleasant feeling. That is, until it decided that it would go all supernova in my hands and crank the heat level up from a gentle warmth to lava-like temperatures in a matter of seconds. 

I yelped out in pain, dropping the pearl and clutching my hand. The pearl instantly disintegrated into a misty powder as it collided with the floor. 

Right, leave it to me to instantly ruin something just by barely touching it. This must be nana's ancient relic or something and now I just wrecked it. 

I crouch down, attempting to collect the fine white remnants of the pearl, as if I could somehow undo the damage I've dealt. 

Suddenly, the fine mist starts rising from the ground, slowly encircling my feet, forming tendrils racing up my legs, crawling up my torso and towards my chest. I try to brush it away, which only resulted in the mist circling up my hands, racing and swirling until I'm completely covered in the mysterious white powder. 

I imagine I look like I just jumped straight into a vat of flour, which would be a rather humorous thought. Except, you know, flour doesn't usually voluntarily climb up people's bodies and bury them alive. Which leads me to my next thought…I'm gonna be smothered to death by some sentient pearl powder, which is definitely not a cool way to kick the bucket.

Cue my panic mode. I frantically try to rid myself of the mystery powder, attempting to dust them off. But the powder seems to be, as I have previously mentioned, sentient. It swirls around my body, slowly at first, then gaining momentum as it goes, so it feels like I'm trapped inside a tornado.

I can no longer see our living room, my vision blocked by a swirling mass of white. Which is really the least of my concerns. The mist is now swirling so fast that I can feel it scrapping my skin, ripping apart my clothes and directly attacking my body. I feel like they're being shredded apart by thousands of miniature knives, slicing and dicing as they swerve past my exposed skin. 

I try to yell out in pain, but find that my voice is gone. No, not only that, it's like the whole world has been muted, silenced, so I can ask for no reprieve from my predicament. It's as if I've been separated from the rest of the world, the swirling mass making sure that I remain alone as I suffer. 

Help! Someone! Anyone! Help!

I drop to the floor, my knees giving way, no longer able to bear the pain. And still the swirling intensities, its sheer speed skinning me alive. It's as if it's determined to make me endure the worst of pains. Every inch of my body is screaming in terror, white hot pain radiating from all of me all at once. This is pain I never imagined possible, pain no human should ever have to endure. 

I no longer have the strength to even keep my eyes open. The pain is so intense that I feel numb already. Finally, my body gives way. I slump forward, falling face first unto the cold concrete, every inch of my body raw.

This is it. I'm going to die. I woke up with blue hair and I'm going to die. 

But that's better. I don't want to be in pain anymore. Death is better than this. 

With this thought, I finally lose consciousness.

You can find story with these keywords: Bagani, Read Bagani, Bagani novel, Bagani book, Bagani story, Bagani full, Bagani Latest Chapter