The Living Dark

The Living Dark, Chapter 1: The Begining of the End

Chapter 1: The Beginning of the End

"Man, this shit is irritating." The burly man grumbles aloud to himself. "What'd you say, honey?" His wife asks in passing as she enters the pitch-black garage. With the seasoned skill of a waitress. She carries a lit candle in her left hand. Watch out for the ladders hanging on the van." Anne could read her husband's moods like an open book, and he was pissed. He watches as she deftly maneuvers around the white paneled van parked before her. Then past boxes he'd strewn across the floor. Slowly her beautiful face draws closer. Illuminated by the soft cone of light from the burning candle. In his hand, he felt the heavy flashlight he used during his days as a gravedigger. This was one of Benjamin James' many careers before finding his calling as a small businessman. "James and Sons Construction" was his lifeblood now. It had made things better for him and his family. He depresses the switch on the portable lantern's handle. A brilliant flash comforting white light pushes the dark back into the musty corners of the garage. "Found it!" He exclaims, unintentionally shining the blinding beam at his wife. "Ah, my eyes........" The tall, slender woman yells, shielding her face from the light with her free hand. "Sorry, babe," he blurts, turning the light away just in time to see his wife tumble forward. With the grace of a man younger than his forty years, Benjamin vaults over boxes to catch his wife. Anne James struggles to keep the candle in her hand from toppling over. Pressing in close to his wife, "gotcha," he whispers into her ear.

With no power running, the garage is a dusty dank sauna. Anne wipes the sweat from his brow. Then she leans in gently to kiss his bronze cheek. "What's wrong, Ben, seriously?" She prods her husband for the last eighteen years. The husky man sighs deeply, "It's just that the powers been out for over an hour now, and there is no eta on when it will be restored. I mean, the kids are all over the place like this is a big game. All we can do is sit here and watch several hundred dollars worth of food go to waste." Shaking his head in frustration, he relaxes his grip on his wife, but she doesn't move. "Babe, this is exciting to the kids. They don't realize the financial implications of a power outage. Because they're kids, honey! Relax our homeowner's policy will take care of us you saw to that." She smiles, pushing a lock of blonde hair from her face. Finally, she sees a smile cracking the corners of his mouth. "Come on, Jr. Wants to play a board game."

Together the couple heads back into the main house. Only to be greeted by a symphony of children laughing and tumbling about. Together they make their way to the front of the expansive home. Upon entering the living room, Benjamin James brings the offending beam of light down upon his children. "Aw, dad! Come on!" Shouts a preteen boy diving behind a love seat. He catches a pair of sock-covered feet pulling themselves behind the sofa. The only child left is his eldest "Jr. Or Chip" as he was known in the James household. The boy held one hand up to his eyes using his remaining hand to steady his wheelchair. "Come on, old man, put down that beacon get over here and take this Monopoly butt kickin' like a man!" He chuckles, rolling carelessly to the table. The entire house was set up to make it easier for Chip to glide through freely. Several hours and multiple jovial accusations of "cheating" later. The James children were sound asleep, surrounded by their camping gear on the hardwood living room floor.

Ben and Anne sat on the couch, snuggled together. Anne again took notice of her husband's inability to relax. His head seemed to be on a swivel all night. A nervous tick that that only served to increase the children's anxiety level. "Those were some bad storms, weren't they honey?" Ben asked, "Yes, Babe, but Ben, you have got to get over your irrational fear of tornadoes. We have a solid storm shelter you built downstairs." She whispers, rubbing his smooth bald head. "You want me to take your mind off of the weather babe?!" Pushing herself up on her husband's muscular lap. "No, Anne..." he fumbles nervously, "but I do think I should grab a gun from the safe just in case." She swears if it were possible for Ben to blush. His ebony skin would have a rosy glow right now. Easing his wife gently off his lap back down onto the couch. He snatches up a small flashlight. Before cautiously making his way down the long dark hallway to their bedroom. Emerging minutes later, black revolver in one meaty hand.

Anne calls from the couch just above a whisper, "honey, why do you need a gun? You're declaring war on tornadoes tonight?" The tone in her voice made him awkwardly aware. That she was not happy with his rejection of her overt advances. "No, Anne..." he answered sheepishly "I checked the news on my phone earlier, and the power is out everywhere, even in places where there was no storm." He leans forward using the muzzle of the gun to part the curtains on the large front bay window. The street was silent and devoid of any sign of life. It almost seemed an unnatural shade of black. It appears foreign, nothing like the street that had been their home for the past decade. Ben didn't like not knowing, in fact, he hated it. In his mind, Phil Collins played on repeat. Reminding Ben that he too could "feel it coming in the air tonight." He withdrew the gun's barrel letting the curtains close once more.