The Darkness In Our Minds (A short story I've been working on-)

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The Darkness in Our Minds

Chapter One: Realization


There was silence. Silence so thick, you could cut it with a knife. An owl hooted gently on a nearby branch, allowing for the silence to be broken. But just slightly. Inside an abandoned house, a boy lies at rest. Oblivious to the sounds, oblivious to the world in its entirety. Wrapped in nothing but a shawl, the boy continues his descent into an innocent sleep. His dreams? Nothing of importance. Just a whirlwind of spontaneous thoughts, and unique images. As the night dragged on, the boy remained in his unshaken slumber. The visual of the boy and the room begins to fade, giving us one last view of the child, who would later take a journey filled with fear, deception, questions, and discovery.




Chapter Two: Tardy


The year was 2008. The weather was dry and brisk, and students of Nevermore High were buzzing with excitement and anticipation for the upcoming dance that would take place at the end of the year. Girls passed, gossiping about the latest drama, while others were frantic, trying to figure out what attire would be appropriate for the event. The football team, as usual, was at practice, trying to best their rival school. Meanwhile, on a staircase inside the school, a boy sat, his nose buried in a book. His head was filled with the gentle sound of music playing over his headphones. Students came and went, passing the boy as if he were invisible, unaware of the human being present. He didn’t mind. Being in solitude was something he was used to. The bell rang overhead, causing the boy to jolt. His eyes darted to the clock on the far wall, and his heart began to pound. He was late for his class. Just barely attaining his footing, he began to rush to his classroom, praying silently that his professor wouldn’t notice his absence. The boy darted from hall to hall, causing the janitors to question his actions. At last, he reached his destination. Gently cracking open the door, he slipped into class. He was in the clear. Or was he? A sudden sound from the front of his class startled him. He turned around. There she was. Ms. Weathers. The professor glared at him. “Just where have you been? You are fifteen minutes late for class.”

The boy cringed ever so slightly. He began to sign his reasoning behind his tardiness, trying his best not to look her in the eyes. There was a brief pause, before she waved him dismissively to sit at his desk, before returning her attention to the material. The young boy did his best to keep up with the notes and make sure that he had everything written down that was needed. The bell rang once again, and he gathered his things to head to his final class of the day. Making sure he was the last one out of the classroom, he began his walk to his Algebra class. Slipping to his desk undetected, he let out a silent breath of relief. Sliding his notebook and pencil out of his bag, he began to take notes as they were being written on the whiteboard towards the front of the room. Algebra has always been a strong subject for him, so he had no issues keeping up with whatever problem was written. Hell, he could solve it in under twenty seconds if he tried. After what felt like five minutes, the dismissal bell rang, signaling a swarm of students, eager to attend whatever activities they had planned for the rest of the day. The big football game was tonight, so naturally, the football team was all pumped up, getting prepared for the big match. The boy passed, noting the vulgar display in the locker room. A cheerleader and her coach. Everyone knew, supposedly. They thought that they wouldn't get caught. They thought it would remain a secret. Their secret. He shook his head, reaching the exit of the school. Once outside, he slipped on his headphones, scrolling through his playlist until a satisfactory song began to play. He smiled, tucking his phone in his pocket, as he began his walk home.

Chapter 3: The Scar


Walking down the sidewalk with his headphones in, the boy gently hums the tune of the song that was playing. He enjoyed this song, and could probably sing it with his eyes closed. After entering his house and going to his room, the boy picked up his guitar and began to play. First softly, then loud, allowing his emotions to pour into each chord and note. Deciding to call it a night, he puts down his guitar and changes for bed. While he's tying his hair up in a ponytail, he notices something. A small scar. He doesn't remember it at all. Where did he get it? Better question. How did he get it? He traced it gently, feeling for any signs of it being recently acquired. Once that theory proved to be false, he decided to just let it go and proceed with his nightly routine. Once satisfied with himself, he crawled into his bed, allowing his drowsiness to take over his body. Within minutes, he was fast asleep. But his head began to spin, and his body began to burn.



Chapter 4: Nightmares



The boy awoke in a dark room. Too dark. It made him shiver. Sitting up to view his surroundings, the boy began to take each feature into memory. The rusty window latches, adorned with a vulgar curtain set. The squeaky cedar door vandalized with the scribbles of a five-year-old. The room smelled of smoke. Ash seemed to settle within every crack and crevice that it could. Standing up, his legs began to shake. He brushed his hair from his eyes, allowing for his vision to be slightly clear. He began to wander the room, looking for anything that may tell him where he was. After his search hit a dead end, he decided to move on to any other room. If there were any, that is. He wasn't sure. He reached out to the doorknob, but it began to vanish. What was once there, was now gone. He jumped back in surprise. Where did it go? He shook his head, choosing to venture forth. Pushing open the door, he entered a small corridor. Was this a house, or an abandoned school building? Gently taking a few steps, he began to venture down the corridor. Looking around, he noticed two things. There were no windows, and all of the doors were metal. But what made it worse, was that they had small slots, with bars. He shuddered. What was this place? Why was he here? This place is creepy... He looked down. Rats. Dozens of them. He began to run, trying to escape the tidal wave of rodents headed his way. Losing his footing, he fell and hit his head, causing him to black out. The last thing he remembers hearing is Come find me, little one. Five words. Who was calling to him; and why?

Chapter 5: She Who Is What

He sprang up. Looking around frantically, he realized that he was back in his room. Panting, he clutched his chest. He was drenched in sweat. He began to trace his body, feeling for anything that wasn't there when he'd fallen asleep. But one thing was painfully clear; that dream would be haunting his sleep. But now there was another question on his mind. Why had the doorknob disappeared? What was that place? Better yet, who was the woman calling to be? Was it human? Or something way more sinister? Not having answers terrified him. He couldn't stand not knowing anything. Shaking his head, he decided to go get a cup of coffee. Clambering out of bed, he slipped on his slippers. He began his descent down the stairs, into the hall, and to the kitchen. Looking around, he spotted everything he needed. He stumbled over to the cabinet to retrieve a cup. Then he grabbed the sugar, making sure it didn't need to be refilled. He poured the liquid caffeine into his cup, allowing for the steam to rise up to his nose. Taking in the scent of the coffee beans, he gently blew over the cup. He raised it to his mouth, and took a gentle sip. It warmed the back of his throat. Coffee was always a go-to in stressful situations. He hadn't the faintest clue of why that dream had occurred, but there had to be a reason. A reason that was not yet clear. It would be soon enough. After finishing his cup, he decided to go back to sleep. But, there is a slight problem. It was just after five in the morning, and he had to be up by six thirty. He didn't want to go. He…didn't have to go. It was settled. He wouldn't go. He instead would sleep in. Maybe go for a run. He wasn't sure. Sighing, he sat down on the stairs. He pondered a few things for a while, but the one question kept nagging him. The voice. Did she know him? If so, how? He began to rub the sides of his head. He had to know who she was, and more importantly, what she wanted. He wouldn’t think about it too much. It’d only make him more irritable. He decided he’d go lay back down. Maybe that would help him relax. Climbing up the stairs, he made his way to his room. He tied his hair back again, climbing into the comfort that was white silk sheets, along with a small throw blanket of his favorite band. It was much too hot for his standard comforter, so it would suffice. He nuzzled himself into the comfort of the plush mattress. Sleep was knocking on his front door. He’d answer. He wanted to sleep. He needed to sleep. Allowing the overwhelming feeling of exhaustion to take hold of him, he began to lull off to sleep. His eyes were the first thing to succumb to tiredness. Followed by his muscles relaxing. His head began to clear, leaving nothing but a void. He allowed himself to succumb. Sleep was a virtue, but a virtue that was indeed needed. Once he finally fell asleep, he once again awoke in that same room. It was the same story for days. Every night. It would never change. Except for tonight. When he awoke in that dark room, he noticed something that wasn’t there before. A small key. The top was shaped like a skull, but the end was jagged. Almost as if it had been broken. He began scanning the walls, looking for any kind of keyhole. He started tracing the walls, when his finger hit a divot. That wasn’t there before. How odd. Lifting up the key, he slid it into the divot. There was silence, followed by the rumble of bricks falling. Had he created some kind of cave-in? The sudden noise scared him. He reached his hand out, feeling for a wall. The noise had caused some dust to form a cloud, impairing his vision. There was no more wall. Only an empty room. Stepping over the debris, he entered what appeared to be a holding cell. But that didn’t make sense. There were windows. But where were the bars? His heart began to race with intrigue and excitement. Was this some random, recurring dream? Or was it part of a bigger mystery? One thing was certain, this dream had shaken him up badly. He shook his hair away from his face. Something had to be linking him to this room, but he hadn’t the faintest clue as to what said something could be.