Centralia The Chosen One Book-1 The Centralia Series(#wattys2015 / #justwriteit)

Chapter One: The Beginning

Chapter One:

The Beginning

Tucked away from city lights and busy streets, there once stood a quaint, little town called Troutwine Springs. No longer in existence, it was established in 1866, located in Pennsylvania; a village population of fourteen hundred souls that flourished in grace. A place where storefronts showcase their history and American pride on porches waved. Where homes built for comfort lined continuous strips of road, and the grandest of houses on the winding streets of Troutwine Springs displayed unique appearances. But, to understand the town's downfall, we must begin at a moment in time worthy of attention.

Our story begins at one of these captivating dwellings. The owners, a young, married couple, enjoyed the simplicity of the neighborhood, it encouraged them to stay. A life-changing decision that should have been a cause for cheer and yet, a short time after moving in, smiling became a thing of the past; lost laughter caused by darkness possessing the home. One can only assume how life would have played out if this event never happened.

It was a fine summer's day in Troutwine Springs, when warmth filled the air and clouds of white hovered against an endless sheet of blue. A time when treetops would be filled with singing birds of praise, drowning out the busy footsteps that filled the streets below, and as sure as time itself, the Town Hall clock struck the hour that rang above sidewalks full of afternoon chatter. Yet, a different something lingered about this ordinary day. It was the discovery of a rare book made by a boy named Johnathan, the couple's fourteen-year-old son.

Johnathan entered his house's attic, one filled with outlandish articles that had been collected over many years by the property's previous owner while the creaking sound of an aged door announced his entrance. Never had him to enter, something drew him in. His eyes scanned this newly found space, focusing on book piles resting on several tables, and stacked on shelves leaning against the building's walls. Although they vanished into the attic's depth, he approached its hind section where he encountered whispers from unknown tongues, guiding him to a unique book, for this book was not a typical read. While most book covers are inviting, perhaps mysterious or even romantic, this one conveyed a heaviness in weight and obligation. Its cover possessed a texture like glass, and a shade of color like a red October sunset, to own a latch mimicking a slumbering eye. While those unknown voices intensified, Johnathan grabbed the book and rushed out the door. His stride when returning from the attic was intense, and with every rushed step taken, he held his new prized possession close to his chest. Once to reach the floor of his room, he rushed past his mother, barreling through the door then barricading it shut, and regardless of such a swift return, the hour followed; twelve chimes to be exact, coming from their grandfather clock stationed on the main floor.

With thoughts of success for the avoidance of his mother, Johnathan discovered his room to be abruptly invaded by darkness. Unnerved by the sudden occurrence, he sat on the edge of his bed, beads of perspiration trickling from his forehead down to his rosy cheeks, joined by a set of lungs barely recovering from his crucial position that motivated his return. He placed the book on his lap, his eyes to behold its mysterious cover. For yet a moment, his mind beat against it, but a ray of light provoked its surface to swirl about, taunting for attention, causing Jonathan to glide his fingers across its haunting cover. He came to rest his hand at one of its hazardous corners, a prick of pain situating from his finger causing Johnathan to inhale a breath; splotches of blood to fall onto the book's cover.

Drop after drop, his lifeblood made its journey, symbols of the elements to become enhanced, awakening the abysses dark latch, a glaring eye revealing its mysterious existence. Never had Johnathan seen such a lively book, not to mention the one-eyed wonder.

Captivated by its impressive cover, a familiar reflection peeked back at him, confirming the fulfillment of sacrificed blood required by this unknown entity. Suddenly! From the depths of the pages, the sound of a heartbeat emerged, enticing Johnathan to a new frame of thought. With a steady hand, he opened the book, the sound of his heartbeat merging with its mysterious thumping. Intrigued by its interaction, not a moment was there to spare when greeted by a gust of wind that chilled his face and carried dark whispers to his ears; voices heard when in the attic.

Taken aback, a new vision of dark beauty presented itself, sheets of black paper imprinted with letters of gold that drew him in and piqued his curiosity. He flipped through the pages, eyes to fall upon a title grabbing his attention. With each elegant stroke, those golden letters proclaim, 'Where Evil Dwellers Dwell,' and upon further examination, it appeared to be a journal. For its cause or purpose, he did not know, and thus, he began his journey.

"Deep within this dark place where screams of pain and fear emanate with an equal propensity, pure evil dwells, feeding on the agony of broken voices, crying out in the hope of a resolution. But no matter how hard they try, this majesty of evil, this place where creatures with no faces grab the flesh and rend it from the bones of the damned, maintains its grip.

Further down into this labyrinth of torment," Johnathan could hear a voice say, as if whispered in his ear, "You will go mad in your solitude and the suffering, and the torture will overcome you."

Johnathan returned to the reality of his room; small remnants of shadows receding to its corners. He threw the book to the floor; eyes bewildered and confused, never to embrace scriptures describing such an unforgiving place. He composed his racing brain, caused when embracing such gruesome images as those invoked by reading those words.

Johnathan slid his body from his bed and crawled down a path to the book, a lump developed in his throat, changing his decision not to reach for it. "This is absurd," concluding he allowed his imagination the upper hand. Johnathan opened the book, his curiosity driving him onwards, to spend most of that evening ingesting the contents within, finding himself at ease with the evil, hellish words, not realizing the darkness he allowed into his soul, darkness capable of taking over his will, in ways he never dreamed imaginable.