Chapter 1: The Dark
It is a warm, sun-shinning bright, late February winter morning, of 1988. It’s different from every other morning for the past three months, different because every morning has been nothing but cold and snowy. There is something else that is different but, yet, no one knows what it is. The difference this morning truly is indescribable, neither of Stephen’s parents are home, it’s warmer, and the ten feet snow banks outside has turned into three just overnight.
“What’s going on Amp?” Stephenson asks as he walks into the kitchen and looks up at the clock, it reads 8:30, just beside it there is a temperature meter, and it reads 32°F. (Which is about 0oC…) Stephen (most commonly called) is a short five foot five, thin one-hundred and ten pound, sixteen year old. He has blue eyes, thick blond hair, well-mannered, and very intelligent. He is almost too intelligent, and too well-mannered to be a sixteen year old. His actions are that of a thirty year old, and his IQ is well over two-hundred, he is the third most intelligent person in the world. When he was ten, he was in the twenty-plus year old chess compotation, and he won, his IQ was about one-hundred and forty then. No one ever listens to him despite this flaw of his high intelligence. He has gone through a lot of schooling; he has a Bachelor’s degree in Mathematics, a Masters in Generic Science, Physics, Biology and Criminal ology. He is currently working on getting his Bachelor’s in English and is also trying to get his Doctorates in Physics and Biology.
Ambrose, or Amp, replies. “I’m not sure, Stephen. It’s warmer today than it has been for the last three months.” He is starring outside as if he was controlling the weather. Ambrose is a tall six foot eight, broad shouldered, well-built two-hundred and sixty-seven pounds all muscle, early fifties (no one knows his real age), long black hair, butler. He turns around and you can see that his face is rather tight, he has a few scratches on his face here and there, and his glare looks like he is always about to yell and give out orders. He still wears his military jacket, the biker jeans, and the steel toed boots. He never wears black because he would say, ‘black is for traitors, black is for evil, everyone thinks that red is, but it’s actually black.’ He also says things like, ‘you’ll never get me to wear black, I have once, and it nearly killed me.’
BAAAAANNNNGGGGGGGG!
Stephenson nearly jumps out of his skin (just like he does every time a loud bang.), and Ambrose, well did what bodyguards do, went over and protected Stephen.
RUMMMMBBBLLEEE! RUMMMMBBBLLLLEEEEE!
The bang is followed by thunder like noises, which lasts for about eighteen seconds, but it seemed longer. Immediately after the thunder everything turns from bright sunlight to pitch black, goes from beautiful clear blue skies to dark red clouds hovering close to the ground, and the sound of birds chirping is replaced with nothing but dead silence. Let’s not forget to add Stephen has never felt this cold in his whole life. The only light they have is the small pile of embers from the fire, which no one has had a chance to attend to yet.
Ambrose hears some voices coming from outside, right away he recognizes it not to be any human spoken languages, but he does recognize it. He understands what is going on. Looking back at Stephen he says, without thinking, just out of natural habitat, natural habitat that he learnt when he was in the military. “Get closer to those embers, Stephenson, and stay there. Whatever you do, don’t say a word and only breathe out into the smoke.”
Stephen, being the boss, and being the curious one asks, loudly, in a snobbish way. “Why eh? Why the fuck are you deman…”
