The Strange Existence of Krissy Nichole
The Memory Eater Chronicles Book 1
By: Rose Alexander
©Rose Alexander, 2020
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Editing: Muddy Waters Editing
Cover: Quirah Casey of Salvation Creations
Table of Contents
Title Page
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
About the Author
More by Rose Alexander
Prologue
“Why are you leaving?” My mom shrieks from the other room.
“It’s the only way to keep you both safe,” my dad pleads with her to understand. “I have to go; they can’t find Nikki.”
“You don’t even know if Krissy inherited your powers,” Mom sobs, her voice sounding broken and defeated.
“I don’t want to take the chance of someone trying to use her if she does. I’m doing this because I love you, please understand. I’ll send money to the bank every month; you won’t have to worry.” His voice quivers.
“What am I supposed to tell Krissy?” Mom sobs, her voice trembling. “She’s only six; she’ll never understand.”
“I’ll explain it to her myself. Nikki and I have a special bond. I can make this work.” His voice is firm in his resolve. I hear footsteps coming towards my room. “I need you to do me a favor, Nikki.” Dad opens my door.
“Anything for you Daddy.” I smile up, wanting to make him proud.
He hands me a burnt orange beanie. “Keep this with you always so you know I’m watching over you.”
He kisses my head and rushes out the door. That’s the last time I saw my dad. I did follow his advice and keep the beanie. I wear it everyday as a second skin or shield from the world. It’s been ten years since I last saw him, but I’ll never forget our last conversation.
My name is Krissy Nichole and this is the story of my strange existence.
Chapter 1
Bang. Bang. Bang.
“Krissy, turn that music down!” Mom yells from the other side of my door.
I turn the music down but don’t bother replying. I’m having an increasingly hard time with her rules. She doesn’t allow me to do anything. I’m a virtual prisoner in my own home. No public school, no friends, nothing.
“Don’t ignore me young lady!” she yells again, beating against the door.
I get up, open the door, and face her with my hands on my hips. Her long, curly, auburn hair piles on her thin frame. Her crows feet framing her brilliant green eyes make her otherwise young looking face feel much older.
“I turned it down.” I glare at her.
“Don’t sass me young lady. Why do you have such a negative attitude?” She tries to give me a hug but I pull away before she’s able.
“I’m a prisoner in this house. You act like the world is so dangerous and I can’t survive in it, but news flash, teenagers everywhere survive everyday!” I scream at her, frustrated with her overly paranoid behavior.
“You don’t understand,” she replies through clenched teeth, her lips thinning. “I know you’re sixteen but it’s for your own good.”
“Then explain it to me!” I yell, wanting more.
“I can’t. Stay home. I need to leave but I’ll be back.” She shuts the door behind her.
I flop on my bed and let out a loud scream of frustration. She treats me like such a child. One day she'll have to let me grow up; it's not like I'm defenseless. I can see people's auras, they are surrounded in colors. Sometimes I feel like I could reach out and pluck out their thoughts from it, or at least their memories. I haven't told my mom about this ability yet. It would just give her another excuse to freak out on me. Hell, the first time it happened I freaked out. One day everything was normal, and the next my mom was surrounded in hazy colors that flowed in and out of one another. I turned to the internet to find out what was going on. After searching several websites, I decided I can see auras. Several people claim to be able to, but none of it quite lines up with my experiences. Of course I have to be a freak among freaks.
Besides my mom, my Uncle Tony is the only other person I get to see regularly. I'm thankful for my dad's brother. He’s a tattoo artist who taught me how to tattoo when he learned I was interested in art. He bought me a tattoo machine last year for Christmas. Most of my tattoos I’ve done myself. It’s one of the few things my mom hasn’t ever complained about, surprisingly. I think she only allows me to do it because she feels guilty about the social isolation she puts me through.
I get up and go to my desk to work on my next tattoo. Once the rose is sketched out, I make a stencil and place it on my forearm and start working. I get lost in the hum of the machine, and by the time I finish, I have a beautiful black and grey rose on my arm. I clean it off and bandage it in plastic.
Checking the clock, I see it’s past dinner time. That’s strange, my mom usually calls me out before now. There’s no sound or smells coming from the kitchen, which is odd. I walk around the house and she’s definitely not home yet. I try calling her phone, but it goes straight to voicemail. Guess whatever she had to do is taking longer than she anticipated.
I go into the kitchen and make a sandwich then go back to my room and finish my course work for my online schooling. I wish my mom wasn’t so paranoid and I could live a normal life. But until the day comes that I'm no longer a minor there's not much I can do, so I end up falling asleep at the computer while trying to finish my homework.
When I wake up the house is silent, but the sun is up. Mom never sleeps in and rarely allows me to. I get up and rush around the house. She’s nowhere to be found and her bed is still made. She never came home last night. I grab my cell phone and start calling her. Like last night, it goes straight to voicemail. I leave a message, on the verge of tears. She’s never stayed out overnight.
It’s times like this I wish my dad would have stuck around. Instead he ran off and abandoned us when I was six years old. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss him, but I’m still angry with him. If he cared about us he would have at least called and checked in… Mom won’t even talk about him. She changes the subject anytime I ask. I think him leaving is why my mom went crazy and pulled me out of public school. So much changed when he walked away.
My hands shake as I call Uncle Tony. Maybe he knows what’s going on.
“What’s up, kiddo?” He answers the phone.
I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding.
“Hey Uncle Tony, have
you heard from my mom?” My voice warbles as I try not to panic.
“I haven’t; what’s going on?” he asks with an edge of worry to his voice.
“She said she had to do something yesterday afternoon and told me not to leave the house, but she still hasn’t come home,” I stutter, choking on my words. “I was hoping maybe she talked to you because her phone is going straight to voicemail.”
“I haven’t, but stay there. I’m heading your way,” he replies, his voice reassuring me that he’ll help.
“Ok, I’ll see you soon,” I end the call.
Knowing he’s on his way settles my nerves, so I pull out my computer and work through the rest of my school work then pull up photoshop to draw. I turn my music up while I draw on the tablet that’s attached to my computer.
My stomach starts growling so I check the time. Uncle Tony lives a couple hours away from us but I figured he’d be here by now. I try calling him and his phone rings but he doesn’t answer. Maybe he’s in a poor service area between his home and mine.
I leave my room and peek out of the curtains to see if anything’s going on outside. There’s a van parked down the street, but otherwise the street looks perfectly normal. Get ahold of yourself Krissy, I think to myself. You’re acting as paranoid as Mom now.
I leave the window and flop down on the couch and start watching YouTube videos on my phone. After the third art tutorial, my phone rings. Checking the caller id, I see that it’s my uncle Tony.
“Krissy, you need to get out of the house now!” he shouts when I answer.
“What’s going on?” My stomach sinks.
“I can’t explain right now, but you’re in danger. Pack a backpack and go somewhere public, then call me back. Your mom has an emergency fund in an envelope in her nightstand. Grab it and throw it in your bag.” His voice is full of urgency.
“Ok, I’m moving.” I stand up and start searching for my backpack.
“If I don’t answer, there should be a phone number in the emergency envelope. Call it. Promise me,” he pleads, making my heart race faster.
“Ok, I promise.” My hands shake as I move around the house trying to pack a bag while I talk to him.
“Good. Stay safe, kiddo. I’ll talk to you soon.” He disconnects the call.
I rush around, grabbing everything I think I’ll need. The panic in his voice has me wondering if I’ll ever come back here. I grab clothes, my laptop, then throw in my tattoo machine for good measure. I’d be sad to lose it. When I finish, I go into my mom’s room and start digging through her drawers. There’s a large manila envelope labeled Emergency Plan. I shove it in my backpack then throw it on my back. I run back to my room and grab the orange beanie and put it on.
I take one last look around before leaving the house and locking the door behind me. The van down the street roars to life, tires screeching as it takes off, making me jump. I shake it off and head towards the mall, which is about a mile away. There’s no traffic in the neighborhood and everything is quiet, except for the occasional barking of a dog.
When I hit the main road, traffic picks up, but we live in a fairly small town so it’s still not much. I get to the mall and the white van I saw down the street from my house pulls into the parking lot.
My heart starts racing as I pull my phone out and dial Uncle Tony’s number. It rings until voicemail picks up.
“Uncle Tony, I’m at the mall. A white van was on my street and just pulled in here. I’m going to go wait in the food court. Please call me back,” I say then hang up.
Hopefully he calls me back soon. I don’t want to call some strange number that might be in the envelope.
I head into the mall and duck into the bathroom next to the food court. When I get in the stall, I hang my backpack up and take out the manila envelope. Folding open the metal clasp, I look inside. There’s a bank envelope full of cash, a white sealed envelope, a prepaid phone, and a piece of paper inside. I take some of the money out and stick in my pocket then shove the rest back inside. I ignore the white envelope but take out the loose piece of paper.
Krissy,
If you’re reading this, something has happened to me. Take the money and run. Leave your phone at home and use the one in the envelope. All the numbers you need are programmed into it. Keep moving until you meet up with Uncle Tony. Only call this number if you can’t get ahold of him. It’s a last resort.
Love you,
Mom
Well fuck! Things are worse than I thought. I wish she would have told me what she was so paranoid about. But to have this back up plan and to tell me to keep moving… What kind of trouble are we in? I text Tony from the burner phone and let him know to reach me there then turn mine off and stick it in the trash.
I head back out to the food court, which is half full. Everyone is surrounded by colors. Bright blues, deep purples, reds, and oranges swirl around each person I pass. The colors call to me, telling me to taste them. I shake my head. That’s not normal. I researched online about them, but no mention of anyone being drawn to them like I am.
I make my way to the pizza place and order a slice of pepperoni and a fountain drink then sit against the back wall where I can watch for my uncle to come. I eat slowly, trying to make it last so I don’t look out of the ordinary.
I watch as people come and go, fascinated by their auras. Young children have bright single colors. The older a person is, the more colors surround them and the darker they become. It takes everything I have not to approach people and touch the colors around them.
My phone rings and I answer it immediately.
“Uncle Tony, are you here?” My voice trembles. My anxiety is spiked so high I can’t keep the shakes out.
“Call the number you have and tell them Vinco group is following me,” he says, his tone so serious it leaves no room for argument. “Don’t do anything else until they instruct you.”
“Who am I calling? What is Vinco group? What’s going on?” I try not to panic.
“I can’t talk. It’s too late, just call them Krissy.” He hangs up.
I pull the letter out of my pocket and dial the number with shaking hands. My heart is beating out of my chest and a large lump forms in my throat.
“Hello?” A familiar voice answers, causing tears to stream down my face.
“Daddy?” I ask, unsure of if it’s really him.
“Nikki? What happened to your mother?” he asks, his voice full of concern.
“Why do you care? You left.” I growl, my anger rising.
“This is important, Nikki. Please answer the question.” His voice is firm but patient.
“I don’t know. She left yesterday and never came home. Uncle Tony was supposed to meet me but he said Vinco group is following him,” I explain, unsure of how to feel. My emotions are all over the place. Happy to hear his voice, scared about what could be going on, and angry at him for leaving us.
“Fuck!” he shouts. “Sorry about that. I was hoping that staying away would keep you safe. Are you seeing things you can’t explain?”
“What do you mean?” I don’t want to admit what I can see, but how does he know?
“Now is not the time to play. Please answer the question, it’s really important.” His voice drops.
“Auras,” I whisper, afraid of saying the word out loud.
“Dammit! She was supposed to call me if you started showing signs.” He growls then I hear a bang in the background as if he has just hit something.
“I never told anyone. I didn’t want to give her another reason to freak out.” I defend my mom.
I start getting angry again, but this time at my mom as well. She knew where my dad was this entire time and never said anything? And he knew that I could be different and just left me?
“Look, I can’t explain this all on the phone. I’m going to text you an address. You need to find a way to get there.” His voice is full of annoyance, which makes my hackles raise.
“Why should I trust you now? Yo
u walked out on us when I was little,” I ask through clenched teeth.
“You have every right to be angry at me, but right now I need you to trust me and do what I ask. I’m trying to keep you safe,” he pleads.
“Fine, but later you need to explain everything,” I concede.
“I promise I will. Oh, and if you ever see someone who doesn’t have an aura, run. They are bad people.” His voice gets serious.
“Got it.” I roll my eyes. Everyone has an aura.
“Be careful and I’ll see you soon,” he replies then hangs up.
A second later, I get a text notification from his number with an address listed. I touch the address to pull up the map and it’s in the next state over. How am I going to get from Kansas to Colorado?
I pull up the bus schedule and find that I need a debit card to book online. Guess I’ll need to make my way to the bus station. At least there’s one leaving this evening. I shove my phone in my pocket, throw away my trash, and leave the mall.
The white van is still in the parking lot when I get outside. I stick to side streets on my way to the bus station. It’s a less direct route, but that white van has me paranoid. I keep glancing over my shoulder to see if it’s following me.
When I arrive at the station, I’m thankful the white van is nowhere to be seen. I go up to the counter and purchase my ticket, then sit on a bench to wait until it’s time to go. The old man behind the counter keeps giving me strange looks. I guess it might seem suspicious for a teenage girl to be traveling alone, but I can’t be the only one he’s ever seen.
Finally, it’s departure time. The bus pulls up and I get on, finding a seat towards the middle and plop down next to the window. As we pull away, I see two men who don’t have auras surrounding them. Damn, that was close. I can’t wait to get some answers.
Chapter 2
It’s a ten hour ride across a flat boring state before we reach the mountains of Colorado. The entire way my mind plays out strange scenarios of people with no auras grabbing me and shoving me in a white van. Are they why my mom is missing? What does my dad know? I’m so tired of having all the questions and none of the answers. When we pull into the bus station, I can’t wait to get moving. My legs are sore from sitting for so long.
The Strange Existence of Krissy Nichole (The Memory Eater Chronicles Book 1) Page 1