Dark Earth Anthology

Cloak of Darkness, A Prelude

1262 Greenwich

Under the deepest darkness we watch. It is the night with which we are clothed and through which we reign.

Once there was a man named Tern Suarin. He was nothing special, not many people even knew his name...not yet, anyway. During the day he stayed in his modest 2 story cottage with his son and wife reading and studying a variety of texts by an echelon of authors all focusing on one thing: living longer. When he first started this quest to live forever he started with books about nutrition and living well, then, as all good things do, he started to drift into darker and darker territory even into blood magic. During the night he held a position in the night watch over the cemetery. Seeing the headstones of those who came before made him appreciate life even more than he already did, even to the point of weeping at the sight of the dead. One dark night, at an hour much too late for the living, he sat at the table pouring over a thin dark covered book he procured from the library when a finger tapped on his shoulder startling him. His head whipped around to face that of a tall gaunt man with short red hair and a long flowing white coat. "So, you wish to live forever," he swiftly took a seat beside him at the table, "Your fervor has gotten the attention of the great and benevolent Mol the God of the land beyond ours. In all of his grace he has granted you a gift should you choose to accept it." Tern hesitated then nodded. "OK, listen carefully..."

Joanne Suarin was a kind and proud woman. She was especially proud of her beautiful son Phillip, who sat on the wooden floor messing around with similarly wooden blocks and her small daughter Jillian who couldn't even walk yet. She was cleaning dishes the next morning when she heard the sound of steps creaking from behind. They sounded heavier than usual but she shrugged it off, maybe he just had a long night, and a long night it was. His eyes were drooping and his mind was in shambles, he had a vague recollection of a mysterious man in his house and a contract that he signed with his pricked finger, the bandage reminded him very well of that. He turned the corner and as his pale eyes met his wife he felt a sudden inexplicable, undeniable urge to sink his teeth into her flesh or strangle her to death or perhaps both. He shook it off, blaming it on lack of sleep. That night he felt more alive than he ever had before, not a tear was shed over a grave. The next day he tried reading but found he was feeling light headed with the urge for blood so he locked the door to his room and tried to shake it off but found he could not any longer and for a dark moment that became darker still he was tempted by his wife and children. This went on for days, everyday he was locked in the room, he neither slept, ate nor drank. Joanne was at first concerned and now was frightened, so she took matters into her own hands.

A knife gripped in her hand and a candle in the other Joanne crept up the wooden stairs and across the smooth floor to the room in which her husband had locked himself almost a week prior. A figure appeared in the doorway across the hall "Mom? What's happening? I'm scared." she turned to see Philip watching her through a bleary eyed gaze. She held her finger to her mouth "Go back to bed sweetie, I am just checking in on daddy." which was the truth yet it hurt to say, like she was lying to herself. She knocked on the door once...no answer... once more and from the locked room came the sound of wood on wood. As the splinters hit the floor fear gripped at her tired heart. She swallowed her terror and, with all her weight, slammed against the door. She felt whatever held the door in place shift and she reared for yet another hit but as she ran at the door it opened before her causing her to topple to the floor. The room was dark, not even the moon shown through the shattered window. The fall had caused her candle to roll across the room where it was suddenly extinguished by a nearly imperceptibly fast force that looked like a shadow incarnate. In its brief light she was able to see a pair of eyes as red as blood staring back at her. As she stood from the floor her first and only coherent thought was: leave. Despite the thoughts of her panic ridden mind her legs did not comply and instead she stood as still as a rock not daring to move, breathe, even live. The pain of her fall gnawed at her already bad knees but yet she stayed still as if the limbo of fate was held by the position of her two feet. The temperature of the room shifted, maybe it was her imagination but it felt as if the night had moved closer. The chair on the other side of the room shifted, catching her eye. As her head shifted to face it a pair of ice cold hands gripped her neck and without another sound Joanne Suarin was swiftly replaced by a heap of discolored lifeless flesh in the shape of whom the no longer man had once loved. As he crouched grourging himself on the sweet nectar of life, his eyes never met that of his former lover lest he regret what he has done under the shade of night.