The Darkening (A Coming of Age Horror Novel) (The Great Rift Book 1)

by Christopher Motz

  On the TV screen, cameras panned over what had been left behind. Streets all but gone, buildings leveled, blackened and burned, trees and telephone poles lying in the road like kindling. Danny didn’t turn his head. There was no point looking.

  Danny was completely blind.

  His sight had never returned after that awful night on Broad Street. For a while, he saw blurry images, but even they eventually faded. He’d seen enough, too much for one person… for one life. He treated his blindness as a blessing more than a curse.

  His home was gone, his friends were dead, and with them died his childhood and innocence. He clung to the hope that someday Samantha would open her eyes.

  But Danny no longer believed in happy endings.

  ***

  Time passed quickly once his family had left Elmview behind. Danny’s father took a job offer in Omaha, Nebraska in the hopes of starting fresh. Danny didn’t put up a fight, there was nothing left for him in Pennsylvania.

  No matter where he went, he’d always see his friends’ faces etched in his memory, and see the Skryel as it took everything away piece by bloody piece. Although he could no longer see, he’d never forget. All he could do was try his best to move on.

  Danny met George in 1991. George worked with his father and the two had become fast friends. He was often at the house, was always kind to Danny, and always quick with a joke or a laugh. His father was a different person in Omaha. Happy. Available. Danny enjoyed those times together.

  His mother had passed away from liver cancer in 1993 and his father only two years later of a heart attack. Danny inherited everything, but couldn’t live on his own. Daily tasks like getting groceries and housekeeping were nearly impossible for him.

  George stepped in and agreed to help, something he’d promised Danny’s father in the event of his death. Danny sold the cars and the house and cashed out his father’s bank accounts. When all was said and done, Danny was worth over two million dollars. Soon after, he moved into George’s apartment in the tiny town of Cedar Bluffs. He sent a monthly check to Pennsylvania to help Samantha’s stepfather with her long-term care.

  Danny flew to Pennsylvania every couple months to visit Sam, but he’d made his peace with her condition. She was never going to wake up, never going to smile at him with that gleam in her eye, never going to hug him with all her strength and tell him it would be okay.

  Samantha was taken off life support in 1998, on Danny’s 28th birthday. He prayed she’d finally find peace.

  As he grew older, he’d often dream of his friends. He saw them vividly, laughing, innocent children on the sunniest day of their lives. Brent cracking jokes and Eric braying laughter until tears squirted from his eyes; Charlie sharing tales of the girls that got away; Samantha with her hair spilling over her shoulders, freckles dappled across her cheeks, looking at him in that special way she saved only for him.

  He remembered them all the way they were.

  Before The Darkening.

  Epilogue

  In 2001, America was attacked and the Twin Towers of the World Trade Center crumbled to the ground. Danny listened to every word on the television and George filled in the rest. It was times such as those when he was happy his vision had been taken away. The world was no longer the place it had once been.

  Time slipped ahead.

  In 2005, Hurricane Katrina devastated New Orleans, forever changing the city and its people.

  Time slipped ahead.

  A massive 7.0 earthquake destroyed Haiti in January 2010, killing more than 300,000.

  Time slipped ahead.

  A tsunami slammed the Pacific coastline of Japan’s northern islands in 2011.

  Time slipped ahead.

  Danny felt that every year there was another tragedy to mark time’s passing. He was glad his friends weren’t here to see it. They wouldn’t recognize the world they’d left behind.

  It was now halfway through 2018, and the days seemed to get shorter all the time. The summer of 1986 was a lifetime ago.

  George often joked about getting older. The hair on your head thins while the hair in your ears prospers. Your pants get a bit tighter, and your bladder a bit smaller. Danny laughed and wondered if he’d ever live long enough to find out.

  “You know,” George said. “I’ve always wanted to visit the south. Maybe we should go sometime.”

  “Where? Georgia? Louisiana?” Danny laughed. “What the hell are we going to do there?”

  “Cajun shrimp, Mardi Gras, jazz clubs. What’s not to like?”

  Danny nodded as Rusty licked his hand. “I swear, George, this old girl is going to outlive us both.”

  “I don’t doubt that.” He patted Rusty’s head with a wrinkled hand. The dog looked at him and whined.

  “It’s okay girl,” George soothed.

  “What’s wrong?” Danny asked. He heard something in George’s voice that made him uneasy.

  “I think we need to talk.”

  “Oh, Christ. You’re not dying on me, are you?”

  “Dying?” George laughed. “No, Danny, I’m not dying.”

  “Then what? Spill it.”

  “Give me a second, I’ll be right back.”

  When George returned, he sat in the chair across from Danny and placed a cold drink in his hand. Danny heard a lighter strike and smelled the pungent smoke of a Pall Mall cigarette.

  “George, what the hell are you doing? You don’t smoke.”

  “I did a long time ago. No reason not to pick up the habit again.”

  “You’re crazy. You don’t pick up smoking at your age. Are you trying to kill yourself?”

  George inhaled deeply and opened his can of Dr. Pepper with a hiss.

  “You want me to open yours?” George took the can from Danny’s hand, opened it, and set it on the table.

  “Are you going to give it back or do I have to search for it?” Danny laughed nervously.

  A searing pain crossed Danny’s face and burrowed into this brain as Rusty barked harshly and spun in circles on the carpet.

  “George? Jesus… what the hell?”

  “You’ll see.”

  “You’ll see? Are you trying to be funny? My head is killing me.”

  As the seconds passed, he came to the shocking realization of what George meant.

  Not you’ll see, but you will see.

  It wasn’t a suggestion, it was an order.

  Bright light pierced the fog in Danny’s brain as he saw his surroundings for the first time in over thirty years.

  “George? What’s happening?”

  He stared at the man he’d known for nearly three decades, letting it sink in that colors and shapes were a real thing. They still existed outside of his perpetual darkness.

  “We soon have to take a trip, Danny. You, me, and Rusty. There’s something we have to do.”

  “I don’t understand,” Danny cried. The multi-colored prisms from his tears were too beautiful to bear.

  “There’s a place outside an abandoned town in Pennsylvania… an old house where it has buried its roots deep beneath the earth.”

  “George? What are you saying? Elmview? Buried its roots?”

  “Yes, Danny. Elmview. You knew the time would come.”

  “What are you talking about? You can’t possibly know… there’s no way…”

  Danny met George’s eyes for the first time and felt the room spin.

  The face had changed, but his eyes were exactly the same.

  “How? How is this possible?”

  “Drink your soda and we’ll talk about it.”

  “Ben?” Danny shouted. “Is it really you?”

  “Different formula, same great taste.”

  It was Ben. He’d changed his body all those years ago, hiding in plain sight, but staying close to keep Danny safe. The Skryel had been searching for him for years. His blindness had only been a tool to keep his location a secret.

  Danny would have time to be pissed later… for now, he only wante
d to hug his friend.

  “It’s so good to you see you,” Danny cried. “It’s so good to see anything.”

  “I didn’t have a choice, Danny. Please forgive me.”

  “Why? Why now?”

  “The Skryel has returned to Elmview.”

  Danny’s stomach churned, and he felt the need to vomit. He’d always known it was a possibility, but it didn’t make the news easier.

  “You can’t seriously expect me to go back there! I’m not sixteen years old anymore.”

  “We’ll have help, but that comes later. I have to go ahead… there are things I need to do.”

  “Ben… you have to explain it… what are you doing… what am I doing?”

  “Danny, calm down. I know this is sudden, and I know you probably want to hit me, but we can save that for another time.”

  “Then what the hell do you want me to do?”

  Ben, who’d ten minutes earlier been a man named George, bent and ruffled the hair behind Rusty’s ear. He thought carefully about his response.

  “For starters,” Ben said, “drink your soda before it gets warm.”

  A Few Words About 'The Darkening'(2nd Edition)

  Here we are again.

  In 2016, after years of wandering through the dark, I was finally able to release my first novel… the book you’re now holding in your hands. The road to the book’s release was a long one, plagued by personal tragedies and my fear of putting it out there for others to read. Then, of course, there was the very real obstacle of not having any idea how to get my manuscript ready. The story of how it all came about is out there if you’re interested, but this isn’t quite the same book I put on Amazon two years ago.

  As one of my characters say near the end of the novel: ‘Different formula, same great taste.’

  I never had any intention of revisiting the manuscript. With all its flaws, I wanted to leave it as-is as a testament to where my writing was at the time. I still loved the story, but once I really began looking through it, I found so many little errors and details that could use clarification, I had no choice but to go through it page by page and make it the book I wanted it to be. Parts of the narrative had been around for more than a decade and some of the writing was downright dreadful.

  The curse of the perfectionist…

  Although it was great fixing the grammar and spelling, there was something deeper that needed to be addressed… issues with parts of the tale I thought felt contrived or dull, or in some cases, extreme for the sake of making readers cringe. After a couple weeks of solid re-editing, I feel that I’ve corrected these issues to the best of my ability.

  Rest assured, the story and characters are the same, they simply received a much-needed facelift, as did the cover for this new edition.

  I feel the most noticeable changes come in how my characters speak to one another, and how they react to certain situations. Teenagers are often foul-mouthed - I certainly was, and still am - but as I went through the book, I noticed that my teenagers were of a special variety that used bad language as one might use a comma. I certainly didn’t turn my book into some PG-13 summer film, but I did tone it down the slightest bit for the sake of the story.

  I mean, fuck it, right?

  Several scenes that I felt weren’t necessary to the story were either removed or completely re-written. For those of you who have already read the first edition, I think you’ll notice them immediately.

  A few of the minor changes include moments of foreshadowing for the continuing mythology. While I’d always had the idea of someday expanding the story into a trilogy, I didn’t expect it to happen so quickly. With several of these small changes, you’ll get a glimpse of what’s coming in the next two books, and I’m excited to say that what you’ve experienced is just the beginning.

  The second book, ‘The Traveler,’ will be available a short time after you read this - July 2018. I can only hope you’re as excited as I am to see where we go from here.

  The Skryel is a nasty enemy, one that won’t simply sit back and watch the story unfold. The monster needs to create chaos, needs to feed, needs to kill. It’s a trickster with no regard for human life, and just because you can’t see it, doesn’t mean it’s not there hiding in the shadows and ready to pounce at a moment’s notice.

  Be safe on your travels. If you feel you’re being watched in a dark room, or that you’re being followed down a rain-swept alley, take my advice and move on.

  Now is not the time for second-guessing. The Skryel is already here, and you, my friend, are in its way.

  We all are.

  Christopher Motz - June 2, 2018

  About The Author

  Christopher Motz was born in 1980 and lives in small-town Pennsylvania with his wife, step-daughter, small dog, and two very hungry turtles. He’s an avid music fan, collector of classic vinyl, and musician. He has appeared in several short story collections as well as having published three novels and two novellas since 2016.

  You can reach Christopher on the web at:

  Official Website

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