When Light became Dark (Old TDEC)

Prologue: When Light became Dark *Revised

When Light became Dark ©2012 R. Friedlander. All Rights Reserved.

I, R. Friedlander, reserve all the rights to this work provided by the copyright law. This novel is a work of fiction, and any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. No part of this publication, 'When Light became Dark', may be reproduced or transmitted in any form without written permission from the author. Legal action will be taken against infringement.

Many thanks for your support and understanding, Meepsta

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Prologue: When Light became Dark

“Never, never, never, never give up.” – Winston Churchill

Headlights danced like confused fireflies on the carriageway, and for a second, I thought that I heard no sound from outside the car. Then my parents began to natter again about the village allotment project, of which they were both chief executives, and I sank wearily back into the leather seat. My shoulder was starting to feel the affects of the evening's work, and I wished that I could snuggle up into my imaginary duvets and sleep. However, a strange sensation kept me awake and alert, clutching the seat-belt with sticky palms.

That night, we were returning late from London after my debut with the London Philharmonic Orchestra. I was a young cellist: not yet fifteen, and already conquering the performance stage, but I never had it in mind to become a professional musician. I used to brush the idea off, laughing if my parents touched on the subject, and reminding myself that I did not have to choose my future plans for many years.

My main problem with becoming a musician was that someday, I would be forced to leave my school, Brookfield High, for a specialist music academy. The possibility of leaving Mia, my best friend of eight years, upset and frightened me. She was everywhere and everything in my life- even persuading her family to move next door so that we could do our homework together in the tree-house. If my career was to come first, what kind of friend would I be?

I peered through the back windscreen, hoping that the traffic would distract me temporarily from my niggling worry. It was then that I noticed the stylish white sports car, glowing like a beacon in the night. Weaving in and out of the lanes, it began to skid on the icy tarmac. Then there was the horn blaring from the freight lorry behind, and then the police car, giving chase, but not fast enough.

Choose. I saw my face framed in the back window, illuminated by the blue light of the police siren. My eyes were wide, terrified yet understanding, my mouth open in a soundless scream. I knew, somehow, that the vehicle was going to hit our car, even before metal latched onto metal, and we were spun three hundred and sixty degrees into the ditch. And then... I forgot?