Prologue

Prologue

A Chapter by Allen
"

The opening introduction to my book, the prelude. Everything references back to this. I use I=Onion Theory a lot in my work

"

Prologue

My Father told me that when I was born, the doctor had a religious experience. Now, I've never been a big follower of religion. I wouldn't go as far as to say I don't believe in A god, but I don't know if I believe in THE God. So whenever I remember my Father's story, I tend not to believe it. My religious beliefs do not matter here, anyways. But the doctor, when I was born, said that he had a religious experience. As I was pushed free from my Mother's womb, the doctor felt something that he described as, "Sensational." I don't know what made my birth sensational. I was couped up in that hole for 9 months just like everyone else. There was nothing remarkable. But the doctor, who was a Christian man, said that he could feel it. He asked my Mother, "Darling, what is the name of your child?"

"Allen," she said, smiling brighter than any star. "Allen Strauss."

The doctor held me into the air. "Allen Strauss, you are meant to do great things," he prophesied. And that was it. My birth, from what I was told.

It's been seventeen years since then, and my life... well it's been a little bit less than great, and the things I've done are even less than that. So either this man didn't have a religious experience or I'm doing something wrong. Probably both. People around me tend to make mistakes and I tend to make it worse. That's life, I guess.

It's July 4th, 1980, seventeen years later. Eighteen in September. I've done nothing remarkable. One might say my life was remarkable, but in a bad way. It would make a good book, but it isn't fun to live through. It's been hell. I don't know why I'm writing this... I haven't written in my journal in years, and I'm hardly ever all that philosophical. But maybe I am today. The orphanage I live in with my brother wouldn't have it, but I did it anyways. I've been hearing about it since it came out last November, so I finally broke down and went to the record store. There was one copy left, lucky for me. It was becoming sensationally popular among its fans, and although I had never heard their previous albums, the concept of this one just dragged me in. I am speaking, of course, about Pink Floyd the Wall. My brother who is normally more perceptive than I didn't quite understand it, but it spoke to the deepest place in my heart. So maybe that's why? Perhaps listening to this cynical piece of art opened up my own mind a little. Regardless, it was a good album.

It's been three years since Mom died, and five since Dad, as Pink would say, flew across the ocean. They left me and my little brother with nothing. We were dirt poor. I can't say it ever really bothered me, since I've never known anything else. We had enough to eat. We never went cold in the night. Poverty was common, so I never really knew what all I was missing out on. Besides, I had other things to worry about.

I have a bad feeling. I don't know why. SALT II was just signed, and tensions between the U.S. and the Russians are receding. We aren't on the brink of war. It seems like nothing bad is going to happen. But I have a bad feeling. It came to me in a dream, a snapshot of me in a field. I had been in a deep sleep. Laying face-down in ash. A voice awoke me. I opened my eyes and used my elbows to rise to my knees. Something was wrong. There was something wicked in the air, a tangible malevolence that seemed so thick you could actually choke on it. The darkness crawled around my body like thousands of tiny spiders. An evil prickling sensation shrouded my whole body, like when your leg falls asleep but all over. The air was thick like lead. I felt weighed down, heavy. "Don't look up," I whispered to myself. But I had to. I had to see what was so wicked. The amount of effort it took me to rise made me groan. But it was pointless. As soon as I saw what lie around me, I instantly fell to my knees again. I was in some kind of field, or rather someone's sick, perverse version of one. The soil was replaced by ash, covering everything in sight. Browned, dead grass wilted over the ash-soil, along with weeds and thorny vines. There was nothing alive in sight. As far as I could see, there were only rolling hills of ash and dead vegetation with a cursory 360 degree rotation. A heavy fog had accumulated, obscuring my vision. I looked above. That was what made me fall to my knees. All around, stretching above and over the horizon, the cool blue color of the sky had been replaced with a macabre scarlet, a blood-red auburn sky. When I was younger, I had a cousin commit suicide. He shot himself in the head with a fully loaded revolver. I was the one who walked in on it. The sky was the same color as the deep red he painted the wall behind him with his misery. The sun was black, a black hole in a bathroom sink filled with blood. Everything was dead. Humanity had bled out. The sky was painted with their failure. And then...

"Allen." The voice was phantom-like, but with an air of familiarity. And somehow, I knew, that it had come from the sun. I looked up. Suddenly the ground was yanked from beneath me as gravity reversed, and the ground and the sky reversed roles. I was hurdling downwards, into the scarlet sky. Only it wasn't the sky anymore. It had become a raging sea of blood. I could see crimson waves splashing against gigantic islands that seemed to be made out of bones. I looked above. The ashy field had become a black void, an empty space. I wanted to scream. I wanted to scream so bad, but nothing came out. I was falling for what seemed like eternity. Hours? Days? Years? Time became an unreal thing. Time was non-existent. Time was meaningless. I was going to spend the rest of eternity falling. But then the waves came closer. Suddenly I wished I could fall forever. I didn't want to be plunged into the red abyss of pain and misery. I knew. I suddenly knew that this was hell. This could be nothing less. I was afraid that I was going to die, but then again... I thought that maybe I already was. I faced the darkness. My new sky. I reached for it. "Take me back," I begged. I was afraid of blood. Deathly afraid of it. And now I was going to be consumed by it. It boiled beneath me. I could hear the blood screaming for my body. I was going to be all red. All dead. And then I splashed in. I hurdled down into the blood-red sea like a bullet, splashing beneath the waves of gore. Red. Red was all I could see. It covered my eyes, filled my nostrils, crawled down my throat. My sanity broke. Blood. Blood everywhere. I had to escape... I kicked my legs violently, trying to pull myself above the waves. They fought it. They liked me there. I was to assimilate. They wanted me to become one with waves. "No," I said. "Screw that! Screw that!"

I emerged from under the waves, choking and coughing, but alive. But then the current changed. I was being pulled. Hard. I looked in the direction of the pull and my heart sank. The black sun really wasn't a sun. It was a whirlpool and I was being sucked in. I tried to fight the pull, but the size was massive. Incomprehensible. It literally filled up the whole horizon. The blood poured in like a waterfall into the dark abyss. I kicked my legs violently, did mad breast strokes, but the current only seemed to pull harder. I now have a certain empathy for an insect that you try to flush down your drain in your bathroom sink. I was like a mosquito, about to go under... The darkness beckoned to me. It called my name again. "Allen."

"What do you want?!" I cried out.

"Just give in, Allen. The world has moved on."

I was nearing the center of the whirlpool, near the inky black hole. I stopped fighting it. It was futile. I was going to be sucked in and there was nothing I could do about it. And then I fell in. "F**k me," I moaned despairingly as I was cast into eternal darkness. And then I was falling again. At some point I forgot what it was like to be on solid ground. Life must have been spent permanently falling, for all eternity. And then I crashed into the waves once more. I emerged, coughing and sputtering. It was dark. Pitch black all around. I couldn't even see my hands in front of me.

There was a faint light in the distance. It looked like a small island. I pushed myself towards it. As I grew closer, I saw the water around me was no longer blood. It was normal clear water. The island in front of me was also alive. Not dead. I swam to the shore and stood up. The sky around me was black as night, but the island was light as day. The ground was not made of ash. It was made of sand and dirt. Was this the only piece of land left untouched by the darkness?

"Allen." The voice came from behind. I know I've heard it. And instead of malevolent, the voice was actually soothing. I turned around and followed the voice. I found a skeleton on the ground, sitting up, leaning against a wrecked row boat. It was dressed in military camouflage, the kind they used in Vietnam. I instantly knew who this man was.

"Father?"

"It is he. Allen, how you have grown!" he chuckled heartily.

"Father, what's happening? What happened to the world?"

"It is a dire fate. The world is no longer as you knew it. It's moved on."

"I don't understand..."

"You will in time. After all, you are meant for greater things."

"What is this place? Why is it different from everywhere else?"

"This is the final frontier. You must prevent the darkness from reaching this spot, Allen. Whatever you do, you must defend this island with your life."

"The darkness? I don't know what the hell you're talking about, Father!"

"But hell is what we are talking about. Hell is about to come to Earth. If they take this island, it's all over."

"But why? What's so special about this island? What the hell is going on?"

But then a bright light shined through my window and woke me up. The dream ended. None of it made a lot of sense. But still, it was unnerving. A hell is coming to Earth? What could that hell be? Aliens? Communists? Demons? I talked to Jack about it. He said I was being stupid and needed to stop listening to Pink Floyd. He said it was messing with my brain.

But still. I'd like to believe it was just an odd nightmare, but something in my heart tells me I'm not. Like I said, I'm not exactly a follower of religion, but this goes a little bit further than instinct. Someone, or something is trying to warn me. Those ashes... Are the Russians going to bomb us?

It's times like these that I really wish I could just be a little kid again... Back with Mom and Dad.



Nothing's going to happen. After all, good always prevails, right?


















© 2013 Allen


Author's Note

Allen
Ignore the spacing issues, this thing messed it up ;w;

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Added on May 30, 2013
Last Updated on May 30, 2013
Tags: scifi, fantasy, post-apocalyptic


Author

Allen
Allen

Bucyrus, OH



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I'm just a young writer, merely 17. Don't kill me! Haha I love to write and I'm just seeking some opinions for my work. Take a look if you have the time! more..

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Strive to Live Strive to Live

A Book by Allen