All Dark, All the Time

by Brian Keene

  Eric went online, looking for peace and quiet.

  Two hours later, he found it. Magic words. A charm to summon ‘The White Worm,’ an ancient Norse creature that, according to a website, symbolized peace and quiet. Before he went to bed, Eric repeated the words on the site.

  Outside, it began to snow.

  • • •

  “School is cancelled,” his mother said the next morning. “It snowed last night.”

  Eric looked out the window. A blanket of white covered everything. But there was something else. Luke, Ron and Willie were hiding behind the bushes across the street.

  “I’ve got to drop your sister at daycare and then your father and I have to work. Promise me that you’ll keep out of trouble.”

  Eric promised that he would.

  “The roads are slick and I’m late,” she said. “I’ll be home at three.”

  After she left, the bullies shouted for him to come outside. Eric went to the window. They grinned as the snow continued to fall.

  Then, something moved behind Ron. Something big and white, that tunneled beneath the snow like a gopher. Eric watched it approach the three. It slid up next to Ron. Luke and Willie were throwing snowballs at the house, and didn’t see him turn completely white, while the thing in the snow turned pink. Soon, more things burrowed toward them under the snow. Eric closed the curtain as Luke and Willie screamed.

  The TV talked about the strange blizzard, until the power went out. The phone lines followed. His parents never came home.

  That night, Eric sat in perfect silence, listening to the slithering sounds outside.

  A DARKER SHADE OF WINTER

  The dead homeless man lay next to a dead pigeon underneath the railroad bridge. Eric stepped over both, noticing in revulsion that the pigeon had been gnawed on. Suddenly, the dead man reached out and clutched Eric’s ankle.

  “Watch where yer’ goin’ boy,” the man rasped, his voice like sandpaper. “People’s tryin’ to sleep here.”

  “Leave me alone,” Eric shouted, trying hard to conceal his fright. “Let go of me or I’ll scream for five-oh!”

  He jerked his leg backward, sprawling into the road. His Magic: The Gathering cards spilled onto the cracked pavement, scattering as the November wind barreled through the underpass. Eric glanced at the traffic light, two blocks away, just turning green. A string of headlights crept toward him. In the distance, a train whistle echoed mournfully, drawing closer.

  The vagrant cackled with laughter as Eric scrabbled desperately to retrieve his cards. He’d owned them for exactly ten minutes, after trading some elementary kids for Pokemon cards at the comic book store. His hands, raw from the cold, scraped painfully on the rough surface of the road. He heard the cars drawing closer. Then the bridge began to hum overhead as the train bore down on them.

  “Better git’ home, boy,” the old man warned. “Feels like snow is on the way.”

  “Just leave me alone.”

  He rescued the last card just as it floated toward a half-frozen puddle. The cars were upon them now and Eric leaped onto the sidewalk, carefully avoiding the reach of the crazy old man and his half-eaten pigeon dinner. The cars didn’t even slow as they hurried by.

  “Yep,” the old man continued, oblivious to the traffic that sped by. “It’s gonna snow. I can feel it. You better hurry, kid. They’ll be coming.”

  Despite his anger and fright, Eric paused. “Who, the police? If you don’t leave me alone they will be!”

  The man howled at this, holding his sides until the laughter subsided. The railroad bridge throbbed, a rhythmic vibration that Eric felt deep inside his body.

  “Not the fuzz, kid. The worms!”

  “Worms?”

  “You heard me. The worms.”

  The old man plucked the dead bird from the ground with one bony hand. He held it aloft and Eric saw a ragged hole in the carcass’s chest. He couldn’t be sure, but it looked like it had been chewed out from the inside.

  “Jes’ like the one that was inside my friend here,” the old man said. “Except bigger. Lots bigger. And you can’t see ‘em. They come with the snow. All you have to do is call them. They...”

  The rest of his rambling was drowned out as the freight train bulleted above them, roaring down the tracks. The old man screamed something as Eric turned and ran.

  Three blocks later, he stopped, hands on his knees as he gasped in a lungful of frigid air. He heard a woman laughing nearby, and wondered if it was directed at him.

  If so, he was used to it.

  Shoving his hands back into his pockets, Eric leaned into the bitter wind and continued trudging toward home. They had moved to Buffalo three months ago, and he hated it here. He hated how rude the people were and how cold it was. Eric really hadn’t liked any place they’d lived before that, either. His stepfather was a disc jockey. He moved from station to station, and as a result, this was the sixth time the family had relocated. Eric’s mother was all for it and his little sister, Megan, was too young to care.

  Eric’s parents had divorced when he was only three-months old. His real dad had always been there for him when he was little, but with high child support payments and a lack of steady employment, he’d switched apartments every few months. Just as Eric would get used to one place, he would visit the next weekend and his father would be living in another. The friends he’d made next door were suddenly gone and he’d have to repeat the process all over again.

  When Eric was halfway through first grade, his mom met his step-dad, Brett. At first, Eric had really liked Brett. He didn’t think of him as his stepfather, but rather, his “other dad.” Within a few months, the two married. A month after that, they moved from Florida to New Jersey. Eric’s real father had tried to fight it, but he couldn’t afford a lawyer. When the dust settled, Eric’s time with his real father was whittled down to four weeks every summer. His dad called him every Wednesday night and on Saturday mornings they would sometimes watch cartoons together over the telephone. He sent him comic books every month and wrote him emails, but it wasn’t the same. His mother and Brett tried to accommodate Eric, and for a while they succeeded. But in second grade came another move and another school—this time in Connecticut—and patterns set in that would control every relationship Eric dared to establish. The birth of Megan had just made things worse. Now, Eric was lucky if his parents even had time to check his report card.

  Eric hesitated to make friends, knowing deep down inside that he would lose them eventually. As a result, he became the target of every bully in every town that they had ever lived in. Tall and slight, Eric wasn’t built for fighting. Brett had tried to teach him how, and his real dad had tried to console him over the phone, but it had done no good. Bloody noses and torn book bags followed him from school to school.

  He sighed, shivering as the wind crept through his jacket. At age eleven, Eric Carter felt like he was forty. Sometimes, he just wanted to die. Other times, he wanted everyone else to die.

  He shuffled towards his house, trying to stay out of the sight of Tony and his crew. Tony was the latest bully. An abandoned parking lot faced the corner next to Eric’s

  home. The lot was where Tony and his friends lurked. Eric didn’t blame them. They weren’t the types to hang out at the library or the comic book store, and there wasn’t much else to do in town. The mall wasn’t within walking distance and the Boys & Girls Club closed at six o’clock.

  Eric heard them before he saw them. The heavy bass tracks of Master P thudded from a boom box, punctuated by the sound of muffled curses and laughter. Milling around in the sickly yellow glow of the lone spotlight, the group turned as Eric slinked by.

  “Hey,” jeered Tony, “if it isn’t Eric Farter!”

  This was greeted by raucous laughter from the other six, as if it was the funniest thing in the world. Eric had heard this variation on his name since he was in first grade, and he still winced each time it was used against him.

  “Why don’t you
come up with something original?” he shouted. “You freaking moron.”

  “What’d you call me, punk?” Tony turned to his two main cronies, Jack and Vince. “Did you hear what he called me? I think Farter is looking for a beat down.”

  Without another word, they dashed across the street. Their clamoring shouts and footfalls echoed in the darkness. Eric ran for the porch, yanked the door open, and then slammed it on their taunts.

  “I’m home,” he called out from the foyer, struggling to unlace his boots with his numb fingers.

  “Hush,” his mother admonished from the living room. “You’ll wake up your sister. I just got her to go to sleep.”

  Eric wandered into the living room, and stood in front of the television. Brett looked up at him.

  “It’s hard to see through you, Eric.”

  Eric stepped out of the way, as a news reporter droned on from the television.

  “Just as it did for hate groups and cults, the Internet has become a haven for websites promoting black magic and witchcraft...”

  “Did you have fun at the comic store?” His mother’s gaze never left the television.

  “Yeah,” Eric answered, excited. “I traded a kid for a first edition Serra Angel card! I finally got one.”

  “That’s nice,” she grunted, still not looking up.

  Brett fingered the remote and the television’s volume increased.

  “This website for example, Elder Gods dot com, boasts a collection of ancient summoning spells that it claims are translated from a Sumerian text.”

  “Brett, you’ll wake up Megan!”

  “Well, I can’t hear it, honey!”

  “I’m sorry that I’m home late,” Eric said.

  “Oh?” His mother appeared puzzled. She glanced at the clock. “Oh yes—you are. We’ve talked about that Eric. You’ve got school tomorrow so you better get to bed now. Brush your teeth first.”

  His heart sunk. He’d purposefully come home late and they hadn’t even noticed.

  He gave his mother a kiss goodnight, noting that she never looked up from the television. Then, he retreated to his room. There, nothing mattered. He didn’t need friends. Didn’t need his family. He had his computer. Eric had wanted a dog for his

  twelfth birthday, but Brett was allergic to animals. They’d given him the computer instead.

  Black magic, he thought. That might be kind of cool to check out.

  The modem sang him a lullaby and Eric lost himself in the comforting glow of his monitor.

  • • •

  Still blinking the sleep from his eyes, Eric shut his locker door and fell in love.

  She stood right next to him and when their shoulders brushed, chills ran up his arm and his stomach fluttered away.

  “Hi,” she said simply, and to Eric, her voice was like a song.

  “Erm...” he replied.

  She was the most beautiful girl Eric had ever seen. She had long, raven black hair that flowed down the back of her sweater. Elegant lashes surrounded deep green eyes that sparkled as she smiled at him. When she breathed in, her budding chest rose and Eric swooned. He felt short of breath.

  “Um,” he said, following up his first reply.

  “My name’s Rain. I’m new here.”

  “Rain,” he repeated, marveling at the way it rolled off the tongue.

  “You don’t have much practice talking, do you?”

  “I’m sorry,” he stammered, heart pounding wildly in his chest. “I’m Eric. Eric Carter.”

  “It’s very nice to meet you, Eric Carter. Look’s like we’re neighbors.”

  “Huh?”

  “Our lockers,” she explained patiently. “We’re neighbors.”

  “Oh, yeah,” he replied, the fact that this wonderful creature was actually talking to him starting to creep into his consciousness.

  The spell was broken a second later.

  “Hey Farter!” Tony’s shout echoed down the hall. “I wanna talk to you!”

  “It was nice meeting you,” he mumbled, and slunk off to his homeroom.

  “Rain...” he whispered it again as he took his seat and began another day of hell. This day, however, it didn’t seem as bad.

  During the next week, Eric ignored the taunts of his classmates. He also forgot his teachers, his parents and everything else. His mind was occupied solely with the new girl. Rain was in both his Social Studies and his English class. Although they hadn’t spoken since their brief encounter, she never left his mind. He found himself staring at her from across the classroom, the teacher a distant buzz in the back of his mind. Eric would stare at her for so long that it was hard to breathe. Occasionally, she would catch him staring, and smile hesitantly at him before turning away. It was in these moments that Eric thought his heart would explode.

  His parents were wrapped up in Megan’s world, watching her hesitant baby steps, glowing proudly over each coo and gurgle that Brett swore sounded like “Daddy”. Even Tony and his boys pretty much ignored him, preferring to play football in back of the school rather than hanging out in the parking lot. He only suffered their cruelty during lunch period now, and he was always careful to stay out of situations where Rain would witness it.

  Eric was happy and miserable at the same time. He wanted so badly to think of something clever to say to Rain, something that would make her laugh. His knees turned to Jell-O when he considered asking her to the homecoming dance. He typed her a letter every night, clicking “delete” before he printed them out. She made him feel good but at the same time, his loneliness was amplified.

  The only time Eric didn’t think about Rain was when he was online.

  Elder Gods.Com turned out to be even cooler than he expected and was now on his list of favorites. For his last birthday, his real dad gave him a book by a guy named H.P. Lovecraft. Although some of it was a little tough to understand, Eric enjoyed it. The book had stories dealing with a race of monstrous beings that had come to earth thousands of years before the dinosaurs. Eric had expected these “Elder Gods” to be the same ones at the website. He’d been pleasantly surprised to find himself wrong.

  The site was loaded with real magic spells that had been translated into English. The spells supposedly came from a book called DAEMONOLATERIA. There were spells to summon demons and incantations to banish them. Creatures with names like Meeble and Kat, Purturabo and Shtar. Eric searched long and hard for a spell to make a girl like you, but the closest thing he could find was a chant that was supposed to bring “icy peace and white quiet.”

  —peace and quiet—

  That sounded good to him. He filed it away in the back of his brain, and then collapsed on the bed. Images of Rain swirled through his mind as he fell asleep, dreaming of peace and quiet.

  His dreams were white.

  • • •

  The wind blasted his face like frigid sandpaper as he walked home from the comic store again. The bum was in his usual spot, but this time he remained asleep as Eric crept by him. Just as he breathed a sigh of relief and prepared to continue home, the old man stirred.

  “Hey, boy!” he hollered. “Whatch’u been messin’ with?”

  Resolving not to turn around, Eric walked away. From behind him, he heard the homeless man totter to his feet. Eric spun around. The old man was limping unsteadily toward him.

  “Leave me alone, you fucker!”

  “I can smell it,” the old man rasped, sniffing the night air. “They comin’ soon. Maybe tonight! Leave it alone boy!”

  “I mean it,” Eric said, taking another step backward. “Go away!”

  The old man lunged for him. Eric ran.

  “They’ll suck your juices out! The snow worms are coming!”

  Eric ran until the bridge was out of sight and he was almost home. As he drew closer, he stopped. Wu-Tang reverberated from the playground, and he heard familiar voices above the music.

  “Yo!” Vince shouted. “Tony, check it out, man.”

  Eric cringed, preparing to
run. There was somebody standing behind Tony, a girl. Her arms were wrapped around his bull-like neck. She placed another kiss on his cheek as Tony grinned.

  “Oh no,” Eric gasped.

  “He’s the little weirdo that keeps staring at me in class,” Rain told Tony.

  “Is that so?” Tony’s sneer cleaved the air like a knife. He reached into his Buffalo Bills jacket. “You been messing with my girl, Farter?”

  Bitter tears coursed down Eric’s face as the bottom dropped out of his world. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. It felt like someone had kicked him in the stomach. His head ached. His lips were throbbing. He’d never told her, but she had betrayed him anyway.

  Tony pulled out the pistol.

  Shock and disbelief gave way to fear as Eric found himself staring down the barrel of the gun. Tony thrust it against his nose, the cold metal sticking to his flesh. Eric began to sob.

  “That’s a warning, Farter. I catch you staring at my girl again and I’ll bust a cap...”

  A car turned onto the street, impaling them all in its headlights.

  Eric ran, and didn’t stop until he reached his bedroom.

  “Honey, what’s wrong?” his mother called up the stairs. “Are you okay?”

  “Leave me alone!” he shouted into his pillow. As usual, she did.

  An hour later, Eric turned on the computer and repeated the words on the screen.

  After another hour, nothing happened. Eric collapsed into a dreamless sleep.

  Outside, it began to snow.

  • • •

  His pillow was still wet when he awoke, and his mother was hovering over him.

  “I don’t want to go to school today,” he pleaded. “I’m sick.”

  She smiled, brushing his forehead with her hand. “Good news, honey. You don’t have to go to school today because there is no school. It snowed last night.”