Here goes... Chapter One

This is the first chapter of the story I'm working on. Please feel free to comment on it. Sorry if it's too long haha. Oh and sorry about the words that are melded together. I don't know how that happened.
[FONT=Sylfaen, serif]Somewhere in Southern California, Billy Madison was sitting in his rockingchair on the patio. He gazed up at the stars, the twinkling diamondspinned on the sheet of black that is the night sky. It was a fullmoon, bright and glowing, like a milky eye watching over the world.Back and forth he swayed. The chair made a soft 'creak' noise, andevery time he rocked, his straw hat slipped down his wrinkled forehead a bit. Cloudy night, he thought, as wads of shadowy cotton hugged the moon and then floated off peacefully.[/FONT]

[FONT=Sylfaen, serif]But then hesaw something strange. Very strange. He saw one particular cloud float in the opposite direction to the other clouds. Like it had amind of its own, not commanded by the wind. It seemed to almost float up and down, then up again. I'm just tired, he thought, I should getsome sleep. He slowly lifted himself from out of the chair andtiptoed over to the door. The floorboards always creaked, even louderat night it seemed. Like each step he took shook the house. He didn'twant to wake up Miriam, she'd be fast asleep by now. He reached forthe doorknob, but then he felt it.[/FONT]

[FONT=Sylfaen, serif]Something.[/FONT]

[FONT=Sylfaen, serif]There wassomething there. [/FONT][FONT=Sylfaen, serif]Someone[/FONT][FONT=Sylfaen, serif]there He felt a sort of, presence. Like something was there but just out of sight, just at the corner of his eye. He turned to face thedarkness of the night. [/FONT]

[FONT=Sylfaen, serif]Nothing.The shrubs and trees shivered but that was normal, there was always agentle breeze in these parts. He stared for a few seconds at thedarkness. It stared right back. He grunted, must be nothing, hethought. He turned back to the door. That's when he heard it. A low grumble or shuffle, something. Like a whisper.[/FONT]

[FONT=Sylfaen, serif]Something.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Sylfaen, serif]Who'sthere?”, he demanded. His voice wasn't as convincing as he would have liked. “Who's there?”, he said again, his voice stronger this time, but it still shook a little. There was no reply for awhile, then[/FONT]

“[FONT=Sylfaen, serif]Come.”[/FONT]

[FONT=Sylfaen, serif]Billyfroze. His eyes darted from left to right. He couldn't see a darn thing. Nothing.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Sylfaen, serif]Come.”[/FONT]

[FONT=Sylfaen, serif]Thevoice- if you could call it a voice, was harsh. It was like someone screaming in a whisper. It sounded like death talking.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Sylfaen, serif]Comeinto the night.”[/FONT]

[FONT=Sylfaen, serif]He tried to say something, but his mouth was dry, and he had a lump in his throat. A sweat broke out on his forehead. He hadn't realised,but he was shaking. And then, to his amazement, he started walkingout into the night. He felt drawn to it. It was calling to him. But it was like he wasn't really there. Like he was watching himself walkto his doom from some distant place. He walked out into the night,and the lights from his house faded as the darkness wrapped itselfaround him.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Sylfaen, serif]Yes,yes. Closer, into the dark.” The voice called again. It sounded like it was in pain, each word it spoke hung in the air for a second then drifted off. The kind of ghostly whisper that made the hair on the back of your neck stand up.[/FONT]

[FONT=Sylfaen, serif]Thevoice was clearer now. Billy was getting closer. He walked on and onuntil he came to an open field. A light wind blew and the grassswayed with it, making a 'shush' sound. He stopped and stood therefor a while, confused, not knowing what to do. Then, he saw it. [/FONT]

[FONT=Sylfaen, serif]Itlooked like a black cloud, only this one was on the ground. It wascrawling towards Billy. It rose up and up until it looked like agiant black finger made of smoke, or was it fog? It towered overBilly, looking down at him. [/FONT]

[FONT=Sylfaen, serif]Ithappened fast. Too fast. So fast, Billy barely had time to registerthe burning agony that ate at his body. The finger of black rushed atBilly and completely devoured him, enveloped him in blackness. He wastrapped in a blanket of breathtaking and strangely thick cloud, andafter a few seconds, he was gone.[/FONT]

[FONT=Sylfaen, serif]Gone.[/FONT]

[FONT=Sylfaen, serif]Allthat remained was a small pile of what looked like soot, and a strawhat. [/FONT]

[FONT=Sylfaen, serif]Themound of smoke gathered itself into a huge clump. It seemed biggerthan before. Stronger. It collapsed on the ground, and crawled overtowards the lights of Billy's home.[/FONT]

[FONT=Sylfaen, serif]Itwhispered over to the patio, stopped for a moment, and then it poureditself onto the door, on the roof, and soon enough the whole housewas covered in the black cloud. It poked through keyholes andslithered under doors. A shattering scream erupted from upstairs, butit quickly died out. After a few minutes, the house was gone, Miriamwas gone. Nothing left but swirling smoke and piles of soot. It wouldlater be found that it wasn't soot, but ashes. The black cloud rosefrom the ground and floated up higher and higher, until it was withthe other clouds. It floated with them, whispering and grumblingtowards the night.[/FONT]
















[FONT=Sylfaen, serif]AndrewWinters woke up with a fright to the deafening sound of his dreadedalarm clock. [/FONT]

[FONT=Sylfaen, serif]Six.[/FONT]

[FONT=Sylfaen, serif]In.[/FONT]

[FONT=Sylfaen, serif]The.[/FONT]

[FONT=Sylfaen, serif]Morning.On a Saturday. It was too early to be up. Way too early. Did theworld even function at this time? He slammed the stop button on hisSponge Bob alarm clock he'd had for as long as he could remember, andslowly but surely dragged the covers off . He sat hunched at the sideof his bed, careful not to whack his head of the wooden beams of thetop bunk and rubbed the sleep from the corners of his eyes. It shouldbe illegal to be up this early. He pulled back the curtains a little.It wasn't even bright outside. He wanted nothing more than to crawlback into bed and smother himself with warm bedsheets and covers. Butit was his turn to take out the trash so he had no choice on thematter. Saturdays were meant to be spent eating sausages and toastand sipping steaming cups of tea while watching cartoons. Instead,Andrew had the pleasure- no, the heavenly task of taking out thetrash. Lucky him.[/FONT]

[FONT=Sylfaen, serif]Heslipped on a pair of jeans, his skin felt sort of fragile as therough denim scraped his legs like sandpaper. He pulled a hoodie overhis head and slipped his feet into his Nike shoes. It was cold inNovember in San Francisco, but it was even colder in the morning. Hewalked sleepily towards the bathroom. He brushed in hands through hisbed-head hair and tried to make it at least somewhat less messy. Hehad failed miserably. He looked at himself in the mirror and foughtback the urge to burst out laughing. He looked horrendous. Hairsticking out, dried drool on his cheek and red eyes, bags saggingbeneath them. [/FONT]

[FONT=Sylfaen, serif]Watchout, there's a new hottie in town. [/FONT]

[FONT=Sylfaen, serif]Ohwell, looks aren't everything, right? He hauled the bags from out ofthe bins downstairs and carried them out to the dumsters. An icybreath met him at the door, like he had opened a freezer and he wassuddenly fully alert. He held the bags as far away from his face aspossible, the stench was eye-watering. He hurried back and shut thedoor behind him, rubbing his hands furiously together. He sat down atthe breakfast table, and made himself some tea.[/FONT]




[FONT=Sylfaen, serif]Andrewwas an orphan. His parents weren't dead. Well, not his mom anyway.When he was a kid she never talked about his dad. Andrew never knewhim. He was never around. After a while, Andrew's mom, Molly, justgave him up. Couldn't cope. Too much responsibility. [/FONT]

[FONT=Sylfaen, serif]Therewas also another reason.[/FONT]

[FONT=Sylfaen, serif]Andrewknew quite well what the other reason was.[/FONT]

[FONT=Sylfaen, serif]He'sbeen in the 'Beltz' orphanage for almost eight years, since he waseight, just about to turn nine. Here wasn't so bad though. He hadhis friend, Ryan, and then there's Jade whom he had grown close toover the while, and then there's Erika Beltz, the owner of theorphanage. She sort of acted like the mother of the house. He likedher. A lot. After the few years he'd grown attached to her. He kindof thought of her as his mother, someone he could talk to. She heldhim close when he was feeling down or when he scraped his knee orwhen he couldn't sleep because there were monsteres under his bed.You know, mom stuff. [/FONT]

[FONT=Sylfaen, serif]Shedidn't know about Andrew. She didn't know why he was really senthere. What he had done. What he could do. But he knew that if she didknow, she wouldn't care. She would still love him. Unlike Molly whojust threw in the towel and said good riddance.[/FONT]

[FONT=Sylfaen, serif]Heheld the mug tightly in his hand. It sent pulses of warmnessradiating through his hands. He slurped it even though it was toohot, and allowed the burning sensation to spread out from his chest. [/FONT]

[FONT=Sylfaen, serif]Mm.[/FONT]

[FONT=Sylfaen, serif]Threesugars, a drop of milk, just the way he liked it. A flapping metalsound came from the hallway. Mail. He stretched his neck around thecorner and saw three envelopes. One of which was a pink envelope witha flowery design. A letter. [/FONT]

[FONT=Sylfaen, serif]FromMolly. Andrew had a very odd relationship with his mother. See, justa few months ago, he started to receive letters from her. Just smallletters, maybe a paragraph or two, telling him about what's going onwith her. And sometimes he replied. It was strange, but also nice.Nice to know that he wasn't completely abandoned. That he wasn'ttotally mother-less.[/FONT]

[FONT=Sylfaen, serif]Hepicked the letter from the ground and tore it open. He froze when heheard footsteps on the stairs. He shoved the letter into his pocketand sat at the table. [/FONT]

[FONT=Sylfaen, serif]Mostpeople in the house were nice. But some were plain nasty, and if theyknew that Andrew was getting letters from his mom he didn't know whatthey'd do. He was relieved when it was only Ryan. [/FONT]

“[FONT=Sylfaen, serif]MorningAndy”, he greeted. He had adopted a knick-name for Andrew when theyfirst met. It had stuck. “Morning”, he replied. Ryan was wearinggrey sweatpants and a blue jacket. His dark brown hair stuck out atrandom places on his head. A fellow bed-head. “How come your up soearly?”, asked Andrew.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Sylfaen, serif]YourSponge Bob alarm clock was still going off after you left. After itscreaming “I'm ready! I'm ready!” about twenty times, you don'tfeel so tired.”, he moaned, but his face said he wasn't annoyed.Ryan switched on the TV and put on the news channel. The only otheroption was the cooking channel. The news, surprisingly, was lessboring. [/FONT]

[FONT=Sylfaen, serif]Thetable was round and made of wood. Once upon a time it was polishedand it had gleamed and maybe even clean. Now, years of spilt milk,ketchup and various foods from mashed potatoes to bananas to that jarof blackish greenish stuff in the back of the fridge had formed alayer of sticky yuckness over the once brown table. Although, it didgleam, just not in a very good way.[/FONT]

[FONT=Sylfaen, serif]Thesun was peeking its fingers from behind the hills, and reachingthrough the window. Shafts of light spilled on a heap of dirty dishesand mugs beside the sink. God help whoever had to clean those.[/FONT]

[FONT=Sylfaen, serif]Andrewtook this time to slip the letter from out of his pocket and read itunder the table. Ryan was munching on some low price brand cereal. Ashe read the letter, he noticed something strange about it. It wasn'tthe usual 'Hi how's things, nice weather isn't it?' letter, but itwas almost warning letter. He stood up to go upstairs and read inpeace, when Ryan called after him. He said, “Man, come here, lookat this. Some old man and his wife and their house in SouthernCalifornia were, like, incinerated or something.” He turned up thevolume. The woman news reporter was beside what looked like a moundof dust or soot or something. Smoke was rising from the blackenedpatch where the house used to be. “Weird”, Andrew said, notreally interested in the TV, he just wanted to read his letter. Hesnook off upstairs and left Ryan staring at the TV. He went to hisroom and shut the door behind him. He read the letter.[/FONT]




[FONT=Sylfaen, serif]Andrew,some strange things are going to start happening, both to you and theworld around you. You need to try and control yourself. Remember whathappened to Kevin. Try to control it. And protect the ones you love.[/FONT]

[FONT=Sylfaen, serif]Molly.[/FONT]




[FONT=Sylfaen, serif]Hestood still, staring into space, trying to figure out what she wastelling him. Well, one thing he understood well was to controlhimself. [/FONT]

[FONT=Sylfaen, serif]Buthow? [/FONT]

[FONT=Sylfaen, serif]Howcan he control something that he barely understands? He shouldn'teven have to control it. He shouldn't have that sort of power. But hedoes. And he has to control it. He remembered that night, seven yearsago. He was eight. His mother and her boyfriend were in the livingroom sipping glasses of wine. Andrew was sitting peacefully at thetable, colouring in his colouring book. [/FONT]

[FONT=Sylfaen, serif]Thenhe heard shouting. Not playful shouting like in the school yard, butscared shouts. Shouts screaming “Stop! Stop!” Andrew had ran intothe living room and saw him, his mother's boyfriend, raising his handand bringing it down hard across her face with a horrible slappingsound. A large red mark burned on her cheek. She was sobbing. Andrewwas terrified at first, then confused, then he felt nothing but redfury. He stood staring at Kevin, her boyfriend. His voice was slurredand he wobbled as he walked. He advanced to Andrew, anger in hiseyes. He took a swing at Andrew, but Andrew tossed his hands up toprotect his face.[/FONT]

[FONT=Sylfaen, serif]Itwas like Kevin had walked into an invisible bubble. He just bouncedback. He tried again and threw his fist at Andrew. [/FONT]

[FONT=Sylfaen, serif]Andthen it was like time stopped. Andrew standing innocently, Kevinswinging his heavy fists and Molly, screaming. And then, Kevindisappeared.[/FONT]

[FONT=Sylfaen, serif]Gone.Forever. [/FONT]

[FONT=Sylfaen, serif]Mollyhad seen what happened. She said Kevin simply vanished into thin air.He didn't think anything of it, he just went back to his colouringbook. Andrew thought she would have been proud of him, but insteadshe was angry. Annoyed that he had gotten rid of Kevin. Frightened.After a few weeks she finally gave him up. Gave up on him. He guessedthat she was afraid that he would do the same to her, so she took theeasy way out.[/FONT]

[FONT=Sylfaen, serif]Itwasn't a very nice memory, but it was so vivid that once he thoughtabout it, he had to relive it. Like it was really happening. A fewother weird things had happened to him since then. None were assevere as with Kevin, but they still happened. One time, he hadmissed dinner and he really wanted some food and his stomach wasgrowling at him, but him being about ten at the time, didn't haveenough money for a curry or a Big Mac. Instead, a cheese-burger justmaterialised in front of him. Like magic. Of course, he assumed hehad to really, really need something for it to just appear. Butstill, if he could make things appear, he could make things go away,which is why, he supposed, his mother had sent him this obscureletter. But why now? Why not eight years ago? Wheels turned in hishead and he tried to make sense of what was going on. But it was tooearly for this much thinking. He shoved the letter under his pillow.He climbed back into bed. He suddenly felt very tired, and soon hewas in a land of dreams and nightmares.[/FONT]