Chapter 1

 

Chapter 1

 

 

It was dark and stormy that night what a Cliché, I know, but really; could you think of a better way to describe what is happening outside my window here on 123^rd Sycamore Lane. My name is Peter Brighten. My friends teased me by calling me light bright. You know, the hole punch picture maker with the little colored plastics that light up. In fact, it was this night I got that name.

My friends Mark Hastein and Cerick Landon and I got ourselves into a bit of trouble. In fact this dark and stormy night really has no bearing on this story and what happened this night not more than two blocks down from the Paul Reveres house close to the museum  named after which where Paul Revere lived in at the time. I can barely fathom what happened that night on April 18, 1775. It was a night that none of us will ever forget my friends and I. Yet this very dark and stormy night was just the beginning of what was about happened to us. 

 

Today is April 18, 1975, almost 200 years to the date as my two friends and I stare down the street as a weird ominous fog fortified the streets with a strange greenish glow. Which seemed to be coming from that house?  Cerick, the brightest of the bunch just had to investigate. Staying home at my parents’ house was not an option despite that we three are nitrous for getting into trouble.

 

* * * *

 

Peter grinned as he fumbled in their secret hiding place for three flashlights holding his two pudgy fingers to his mouth as the three boys try not to giggle as they sneaked about the room fumbling after their clothes and stomping into there shoes  while Peters parents slept above them. It had only been just two hours when his parents for the last time told them to go to sleep. The question is will three very determine boys, having a sleep over ever mind? Not on your life yet that is the question in itself. “LIFE” to this day will be changed for them as Peter, Cerick and Mark rediscover the past that should have lain silent in this world and in this “Time period” alone. Oh why couldn’t they have not obeyed and stayed in their sleeping bags listening to the storm outside as the wind and rain danced upon the cold glass basement window………   

 

Mark quietly sneaks a peek into the room as he listened with his ear to the door, making sure they are a sleep as he gave the signal that the coast was clear. While Cerick carefully opened the door with their nap sacks over his large broad shoulders, Pushed his blond hair back away from his eyes as the rain started to drench him. Cerick carefully hand the boys an ugly yellow poncho. At least it will keep them some what dry except for their feet. As Peter splashed mud on Mark accidentally as he clumsily missed the last step of the wooden porch, “hey now, watch where your going duded” Mark replied.

“Come on and shut it, do you want to wake the whole freaken world do ya?” Peter replied whispering yet trying not to laugh as he splashed about in the mud around him. 

 

The three boys slowly make it out of the house with Peter in the lead. Loud crashes of lightning are heard as a roaring boom then a big flash of light just above them. Lightning streaks against the night sky then another great big boom is heard as cannon fire is heard in the distance, which seemed impossible to the boys because it was not the fourth of July and it certainly was not day light as the boys slowly reached benches of rolled fog a long the narrow streets.

“Why would cannon fire be heard at this time of the night?” Mark shouts as he ducks near the ground as he watched a ball of fire fly past him with a loud whistle he watched hit some where towards the north of town. A ghostly horse and its rider nearly run him down as the horse leaped into the air above the fog.  More horses were heard on the cobblestone streets as lantern lights glowed eerie a cascade of a greenish tint. Small smoke stacks can be seen from the top of the houses yet the houses themselves are shadowed blanked in fog along its out skirts, but that was not what caught Peter or Cerick’s eye that gave him chills as he pointed down toward the houses laced in fog. It was the hooded figure cloaked in black that turned its glowing greenish eyes towards them. A small squeak not a yell except from a common mouse could be heard coming out of Marks mouth as he pushes hard against the boys as they tripped falling on the ground around them.

 

Mark slowly pointed with his finger towards the cloaked figure as it drew near. Cerick points to another in the opposite direction. The boys huddled close together adverting their eyes from the two cloaked figures in the street. A loud whaling noise was heard as black streams of tentacles like arms lunged forward towards the boys.  A man shouts towards them “in here quickly you bloody arse’s.”

The boys not taking their eyes off the two cloaked figures as they dived into the small cottage like home, where the man was holding a small lantern and watched him tosses it into the street towards the nearest figure. “Com’on boy’s git in here quickly this is no time to be standen still… No‘sirey bob. Heck my grand ‘da can move faster then you boys and he’s in eighties” Wasting no time the three boys does what the man said as they watched the second figure grow closer go into angry rage as it makes a dive for the boys.

Cerick breathing hard as the man hurries and closed the door throwing some sort of white powder that looks a lot like salt on the ground near the door as the figure on the other side screamed. “Thanks mister” Cerick wheezes out strongly as he tried to catch his breath with his hands on his knees. 

 

The man nods as he brushed off his boots with a handkerchief and with quick mop of he’s face he slips it back into his back pocket. Mark glanced around the room as his eyes locked upon the bayonet leaned up against the doorframe. Its wooden butt barely scratched and the fine silver barrel gleamed in the firelight from the stonewall fireplace in the room. Also near the fireplace was a small wooden table with branch like chairs pushed in around it. A simple kitchen with a side of smoked beef hanging from the rafters with along butcher’s knife cleaved into it and hand pump near the sink basin. In the left hand corner was twin size bed built that might fit two.; with a small wooden table by the bedside a tin cup next to a strange old bottle of brown liquid, possible leavens for the pub.

 

The windows were small squared shaped in box type formation in the old standard of 4 pained with dirty brown mouse chewed curtains. The small cottage resembled a lot like the one’s Cerick saw only in pictures in one of his history books and so did the old man standing before him.  with odd looking farming pants and old checkered shirt with brown suspenders around his shoulders... to top it off a round brown turban hat with raged edges just raised slightly over his hazel eyes. He looked rustic and fairly modern as to state of the house guessing so where in the late 1700’s.

 

Peter gazed out the small wooden window his house up the road seemed to be fading in the distance as the strange pillow like fog in closed them. The two cloaked figures in the street circle about the house whaling, their faces seeming un-human like as their hollowed skulled eyes glowed and bone jaw laced with decayed skin stretched over their heads. The man in the room quickly grabs Peter by the shoulders. “That’s a diseur’ fade and you boy’s best be not haven any dealings with them sort,” the man replied pushing Peter towards the middle of the room. “What are you doing out this late in the first place I’m bloody asken.” The man asked as he pulled up a chair and pointed to the small rough couch made of animal skins deer he thought or possible beer which has seen its better days.

 

Cerick plops down on the sofa, dust flies in the air as Mark and Peter cough. The man smiled not really caring about the dust the boy created as his smile increased then does a quick quite chuckle sounded like a bees nest from the bottom of well.  Mutters something about being fit for visitor’s, boys making a dogs dinner, then gets seriousness.  “Like I told ya, ya, best’es not be haven dealing with those” as he pointed to the door. “You’s bettors off dealen with the devil himself than be’s haven those after yer backside.”  Ya ye boys best’s be’s giten fer home come first light, they’s hate the light, it bloody burns them ya see’s they hate the bloody light. Only come’s out at night unless you’re barmy or daff as ye seem bloody is” he replied.

    

Mark gazed towards the window as another light lit the sky with load noise of cannon fire shakes the ground close by. The man carefully goes to the window grabbing his bayonet then carefully slides towards the window to take another peek as cannon fires whistled past the house a bit closer. A huge orange and yellow blaze is seen in the street lit up near the window. As the man outside screamed then charged, his horse baying stumping the cloaked hooded figure near the house.

The man on the horse yells “Die you widow maker” as the figure hissed back at him. It’s long gnarly arms flaying side to side with glowing red swords in each hand. Outside the closed door another load cry is heard “die you thieven bustard.”

With one loud hiss black smoke raised from its decayed body as it laid limp in the cobblestone street. Than silence was heard, nothing, but orange glowed from the fire in the street as the wood crackled around the diseur’ fade as the fire totally engulfs it.  A loud joyous shout is heard “Chalk up another to the bloody devil of King bloody George fella’s.  For he bares well the shadow of death my he soon meet the maker.”  The shouts replied in the street in agreement.

Reviews

[VillageAuthor]

The story is interesting and held my interest. However, at the beginning of Chapter 1 you may want to eliminate that whole introduction. It may be better not to tell the reader that the lives of these boys will be changed, let the story develop and the reader will see and understand what will change the boys lives. You may want to use the dialect sparingly, it makes it difficult to understand.

[Jack Isaac]

Placing the time frame through the story is a bit tricky so the reader has to work for it --nothing wrong with that if that's how you want the story to be --frankly. I make readers go through hoops, they don't always appreciate that. Go figure! This is a good review just like I posted in the other chapters. This has all the makings of a great book.

[Sleepless]

nice!:)

[M Garcia]

Excellent!

[Coyote Poetry]

You did very well with this story. History allow us to look back with eyes of hope and wishing we knew the truth about that time in history. I like the character and how you are telling the story. I look forward to reading more. A excellent chapter.
Coyote

[Teri B]

Nicely told!

[~Blue Fantasy~]

Very nice.

[Cascara (aka Sprint Goe..]

I liked this chapter!

[EMF]

First off I liked it. Damn good story and damn good way of telling it. But, there are a few points it could use a little careful editing. A little tightening here and some expansion there. Don't misunderstand or jump to wrong conclusions. I literally mean a word or two. Might be worth getting someone to look at it with pen and paper. It is excellent however and look forward to reading more

[joshua deathdealer]

I really enjoyed this. I usually don't review long chapters but this is good. Well done..xx