Darkness Calls [SHELVED]

Darkness Calls [Chapter 1]

Chapter 1

There’s power in darkness. It’s an irrevocable fact that rings true through history, going back to the very beginnings of humanity. When fearing the dark was not just a means of survival; it was a way of life, meant to protect us from the predators that lurked in its shadows. Humans have made a contest of this, building bigger and brighter lights, cheaper and more efficient, racing away from the shadows that stalked us in our sleep.

You have to go pretty far out into the country to find anything that remotely resembles this darkness, where power lines are spread thin and the only lights come from homes and respectable establishments. You’d rarely see flashing billboards and needless spotlights that swivel around the night sky, illuminating nothing but the clouds.

As much fear as there was in the shadows there was also a certain peace. Surrendering to the darkness like an old friend that has been a constant since the day you were born, waiting to envelope you once more in its embrace.  Sometimes, there’s a sense of serenity as you do so, as if there’s no one in the world but you - no crazy ex, no overbearing boss, no immature roommate.

But then you realize you’re not alone in the night.

Tires skidded on the wet road, trying to gain purchase on the frictionless pavement. I held the wheel steadily to the left, trying to weaken whatever inertia the sedan had picked up. Finally, the tires screeched, rubber fighting against forward motion - or, as was the case, sidewards. The car rumbled as it finally stopped, my side of it lifting off the ground, threatening to topple over before settling back down, jostling me against my seatbelt. Rain pattered in the silence.  

I collapsed against the steering wheel, a bundle of nerves that wouldn’t stop shaking. That was far too close.

“Welcome to Willowbrooke,” I grumbled. I got out of the car after rummaging through the back for my umbrella. You’re probably thinking it’s dangerous for a poor, defenseless girl to be out by herself, especially since the road I was in cut through a dense forest of anything but willows. The founders had a rich sense of humor.

Still shaking, I walked around the sedan, inspecting it for any damage. The tires were still alive and aside from the dents that were there before, it seemed I got off easy. Then someone groaned. Unless the car suddenly grew vocal cords or I turned out to have more testosterone than prescribed, it only meant one thing.

Lightning flashed, cutting through the night and revealing a figure struggling to get up just a few feet from the back of the car. I rushed to his side. Of course, there was a voice at the back of my head screaming sense. Dinah, what the hell!? He could be a murderer! A rapist! A zombie, for all you know! But then I remembered where I was - Willowbrooke, the town where the most interesting criminal act was some mail getting stolen by a rejected mailman.

“Oh, my God! Did I hit you? Are you okay?” The questions came out in a flurry. If I wasn’t going to vomit my guts out of anxiety, I might as well vomit some words. “Are you wounded? Is there anything I can do?”

“You can calm down.” The words came out in a lazy drawl. There was no struggling for breath or weakness in his tone, which was a good sign.

“We’re in the middle of a deserted road and you’re on all fours,” I said pointedly. “Not a very calming setting.”

He let out a harsh laugh. “Point taken.” I grabbed his upper arm and felt it flex as he pushed himself up with my help. He patted himself down as if brushing off some dirt. It was pretty useless considering he was already drenched to the bone. His head swiveled, eyes scanning the trees. I followed his gaze. It was too dark to even make out their silhouettes. And yet...there was something disconcerting about staring at complete blackness.