Fear & Sunshine: Prelude

by Donovan Scherer

  Scared?

  Don’t expect a refund.

  -Damarcus Darksmith

  Copyright

  Fear & Sunshine: Prelude

  Text & Illustrations Copyright © 2009 by Donovan Scherer

  Originally Published in 2009 by Ratatat Graphics LLC

  All rights reserved.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  For information regarding permission, write to:

  Ratatat Graphics LLC

  5605 Sheridan Rd., #1172

  Kenosha, WI 53141-1172

  ISBN: 978-0-9841746-4-5

  www.ratatatgraphics.com

  www.fearandsunshine.com

  Dedication

  In Memory of Sharyl Davis,

  Thank you for the endless encouragement

  to strive for more than working at a cash register

  Special Thanks

  Jeanne Scherer, Doug Scherer, Javier Vega

  Introduction

  For generations, I have kept my eye on the residents of Darksmith Manor. They are not necessarily evil, despite what those who reside nearby may believe. However, given the skills they’ve acquired since the great war, one would likely think they’d have crawled up from the darkest depths of the abyss.

  But no, despite the otherworldly beasts which are forged by the hands of Darksmith, evil is, as some say, in the eye of the beholder. With each generation, a new dream is born, and so, good or evil changes like the wind.

  Regardless, the menaces created by the Darksmith family put forth a tremendous effort in keeping my business afloat.

  -Death

  Fear & Sunshine: Prelude

  It was a night so dark and so silent that one could almost hear the moon shiver in fright high above the tall pines of the dark forest. Fear lurked everywhere, yearning for this day, the chance to take what he had craved, to claim what should be his. Not even the creatures of the night would celebrate this Halloween. Suddenly, the ancient forest was ripped from its slumber by a scream drowning the howls of the wind that whipped the leaves around Darksmith Manor.

  “Please, mistress. You must bear the pain, you must stay as silent as possible,” said an older, stout woman to the soon-to-be mother. The response was a cold stare under a furrowed brow. The older woman, Mum Furley, wiped her hands on her dirt-stained apron and moved to assist the doctor in delivering the child. The doctor, hardly taller than the bed, stood on a stool to tend to his patients.

  As the woman in labor cried in agony, a damp cloth met her face. “Delilah, my dear, we must hurry. The girl will arrive soon.” The man wiped the sweat from the cheek of his wife.

  She paused, then looked him in the eyes, tears now pouring down her briefly dry cheek. “Please, Dom, keep her safe.”

  The sound of a whimper soon grew into the recognizable cry of a newborn. The white-haired doctor took the baby in his arms and handed it to the mother. “Say hello to your daughter.”

  The new parents looked solemnly upon their firstborn child as they knew that their time together would not be long.

  Dominick, the Duke of Darksmith, laid his hand upon his child’s head. Noticing something in the corner of his eye, he looked back to see a tall figure, hooded and cloaked in gray, come through the door. Following behind him was a petite, yet very self-assured-looking teenage girl.

  “Hello, old friend,” sighed the Duke. “Here to help in these dark times, are you?”

  “I most certainly can assist with bringing the child to safety,” the tall man replied. “But, unfortunately, that is not my first order of business here. I’m so sorry, Dominick.”

  His hand, which had no skin or flesh to hide the bones, rose up and pointed toward the Duchess, Delilah Darksmith, who still wore the smile of seeing her first child but whose eyes no longer saw the world.

  As he held his daughter, Dominick, the Duke of Darksmith, knelt down beside Delilah. The baby pulled mindlessly at her mother’s hair.

  Choking back his tears, he looked at the teenage girl. “Are you ready, Constance?”

  Alongside a small carriage, Death slipped in and out of the trees as it tore through the forest. Guiding the horses that pulled the carriage was a man wearing an old, torn vest and long, knotted hair. Through his round, red-lensed glasses, he surveyed the surroundings for the inevitable attack.

  Inside, Constance guarded the large basket, which held the baby wrapped in a bundle of blankets.

  “Happy birthday, kiddo,” she smiled down at the baby and squinted cheerfully with her yellow eyes as she did her best to keep the basket undisturbed. “Once you’re with my sister, you won’t have to worry about all these things that go bump in the night.” At that, a howl wailed just outside the carriage.

  Constance quickly peered through the carriage shutters as it drew to a halt. With the basket under one arm and a long, silvery blade in the other, she kicked open the door and pounced to ground.

  The moment she landed, young Constance Adora faced a set of teeth, each one the size of her hand. She quickly stepped out from the reach of the beast’s jaws and then recognized the round, red lensed glasses resting upon the large werewolf’s snarling muzzle.

  “This way,” Ike growled. “My brothers will keep Fear’s minions at bay.”

  Meanwhile, as he sat beside his lost love, Duke Dominick cringed as Fear’s shrill laughter echoed through the halls of Darksmith Manor. He stood, then gazed upon his lifeless bride. He leaned down and kissed her on the forehead. Caressing her cold cheek, he softly spoke his final words to her.

  “Our daughter will be safe.”

  Dominick rose to seek out the menace that brought such torment on his house. Charging like a bull, the Duke stormed through the castle, passing the tiny doctor and the woman who helped deliver the child. “Oh, no! What about the Duke?” the woman hurriedly whispered to the doctor.

  “Don’t worry about him, Mum. Ol’ Dominick knows what he has to do. And now that everyone else is out of here and safe, it’s about time we follow suit.”

  They entered the laboratory in the massive basement. Machines buzzed, and lights blinked in harmonious dance.

  “Hurry, Mum! Get on the platform,” shouted the doctor, pointing to what looked like a gazebo made of scrap metal and wires.

  “But our dear Duke, we cannot …”

  “We must,” the doctor snapped. “As long as he keeps playing ‘Distract-the-Sociopathic-Monster,’ the girl is safe. I’m sorry, Mum.”

  The dwarfish doctor took the hands of the stout gardener. “We have to leave Darksmith Manor. We have to hide our talents from the rest of the world from this point on. If not, he’ll find us, Mum. The lives we’ve lived in this place are over. We brought this upon ourselves by bringing Fear into the world. It’s just the price we have to pay.”

  She leaned down to face the doctor and hugged him good-bye. Then, as she backed onto the platform, she waved to the doctor, her eyes about to burst into tears.

  “I’ll see you again, Mum Furley.”

  The doctor threw the switch, sending bolts of electricity throughout the laboratory. Mum Furley vanished.

  Cautiously, Constance sped through the forest, following
in the tracks of the massive beast. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of a shadow gliding beyond the brush.

  “Ike!” she shouted.

  The wolf slowed down, now positioned between Constance and the shadow. “I see it,” he roared.

  Still running, they broke through the edge of the forest and watched as the shadow moved in front of them. Without slowing down, it turned to face them both, and as they saw the moonlight reflect off the white skull, they realized it was Death and all was well.

  “Hello, children,” Death greeted them.

  “No time for chitchat, old timer,” Ike snarled.

  “Very well,” sighed Death. “But you know, there are much more efficient ways to evade the grasp of Fear.”

  “What would you have in mind that’s better than taking the zeppelin?” Constance nervously asked. Questioning Death did, after all, seem a tad taboo.

  Then, seeming as though the bones of his fixed jaw began to form a smile, Death answered, “The Ferryman.”

  Fiercely gripping the iron handle of an ax that looked like it could cut the top off a mountain, Dominick stood in the courtyard of Darksmith Manor.

  “Is this what you want?” the Duke yelled. “To feast on the flesh of a Darksmith? To bathe in our blood? If this is what you want, then come and try to take it.”

  From nowhere and everywhere, Fear’s voice filled the air, “You are not the one that I want. My appetite prefers a smaller morsel tonight. And I, as you know, am not one to let things go to waste. Things like the creatures cast aside by the gluttonous heirs of Darksmith Manor, or the meat I would tear from your bones and then let rot … No, no. I am not wasteful.”

  Dominick braced himself for battle but still could not locate the monster that threatened what was left of his family. “No creature was cast aside from Darksmith Manor, not even you, Fear. But the evil you have caused, the lies you have told to twist your kin into following you … you have gone too far. You have no place in Darksmith Manor and you will never take it for yourself.”

  The answering laughter was so loud, Dominick fell to his knees. Fear screamed, “I will have Darksmith Manor! I will use this place the way it was meant to be used. I will create such terror that our chaos will no longer be bound to the borders of our world. I will take it!”

  A time-stilling silence engulfed the manor as Dominick raised his eyes to see Fear. His hoofed feet were perched on the ledge of a fountain and his clawed hands swayed back and forth, brandishing a long, broken bone that had been sharpened into a knife. Beneath his wide-brimmed, pointed hat and deep set in his rotting jack-o’-lantern face, Fear’s eyes burned with pure hatred into the soul of the Duke of Darksmith Manor. “Now, tell me Father. Where is my baby sister?”

  Riding on Ike's, Constance clutched the basket. “Slow down, man. I’ve got a baby here.”

  As the wolf slowed to a brisk trot, he was rewarded with a scratch behind the ear. “Death should be back soon. I don’t imagine the Ferryman could turn down a request from …”

  The ground exploded upward and Ike reared back with jaws snapping at the air, greedily trying to catch something, anything of danger, in their grip.

  Constance, still holding the basket, clung desperately to a clump of Ike’s fur. She quickly lowered herself to the ground, while the baby wailed amid the excitement. Wielding her silver spike, Constance watched Ike collide midair with what appeared to be a giant flower, sloppily decorated with teeth, thorns, and the scraps thrown out by a butcher’s shop.

  “Run,” growled Ike. And Constance ran.

  As she made her way through the field, she could hear her friend yelp behind her. Then, what may have been the good news of help arriving made her heart sink as she knew that, although he was there to help them, Death was always on the clock. She could only hope that he was not preparing to fulfill his standard duty now.

  Sparks shot from the stone fountain as the ax clashed against it. Fear cackled as the swings of the ax continued to fall short. Dominick Darksmith always knew this day would come. You play with fire, you get burned. It was the fate of the Darksmith bloodline. His father, his grandfather, great grandfather, and the founder of Darksmith Manor, Damarcus Darksmith, all met their demise at the hands of their own creations. At least his daughter was safe, free from the duties of Darksmith Manor, the curse to create evil and the gift of things that should not be.

  Tonight, Darksmith Manor would fall.

  “Stupid machine,” muttered the doctor. “Thing’s only good for one jump. Ah, well. Who would I be if I didn’t have a backup plan?” That said, the doctor took hold of a sheet draped over a device that was so tall it reached the ceiling of the enormous laboratory.

  He gave it a pull and, somehow, the entire sheet managed to fall gracefully, revealing the bizarre combination of a catapult and a cannon.

  “Okay,” he said to himself, nervously clapping his hands together. The doctor grabbed a pair of goggles and strapped them around his forehead, not yet ready to lower them to his eyes. “Okay, okay,” he repeated skittishly.

  He stood in front of large control console, which only had a single button. The big red button seemed to stare at the doctor as the doctor stared right back. Then, taking charge over the device, the doctor let out a hoot and slammed his fist against it. Lights immediately began flashing as an alarm began to blurt wildly, then decrease to a measly groan.

  “No time to fix that,” he said out loud, running toward a seat contained in a small round compartment at the base of the huge machine. Above the machine, stone and dirt began to shower the lab as the ceiling opened up to the full moon.

  Within sight of the docks, Constance quickened her pace. The baby had stopped crying but still let out an occasional whimper. Beside her, the shadow of Death had once again appeared. Constance stopped in her tracks.

  “Ike?” she murmured, “Is he okay?”

  Death looked at the basket. “Yes, yes. He’s hurt, very hurt. But he will recover. His brothers arrived just after I took the plant.” Constance looked relieved. Death reached his bony hand into his robe. “Make sure the child takes this. It belonged to her mother.” From a long, gold chain hung a medallion. It was symbol: a skull, embedded in a glass dome and surrounded by metallic edges that resembled sun rays.

  “Now hurry, the Ferryman is ready.”

  Carrying the basket, Constance boarded the small boat. The Ferryman glared at her, stroking his mangy beard. “Now listen here, girlie. I know this is probably a pretty important task yer handlin’, what with the boss man giving the orders and all. But if that kid of yers starts up, I won’t think twice about tying a rope to that basket and towing it out of earshot.”

  Constance let out a soft but stern growl as the glare of her yellow eyes flashed. The Ferryman stepped back and snorted, making a very soggy-sounding noise. He regarded the girl for a moment, “All right, you win.”

  The shrill laughter echoed throughout the courtyard. Feeling his strength fading, Dominick leaned on the handle of his ax.

  “Oooh, is the Duke all worn out from playing? Why not just tell me where she is and end this stupid game?”

  Dominick scowled at Fear, “My daughter is safe. You will never find her. You will never hurt her. And you will never take Darksmith Manor.”

  The ground began to shake as the floor of the courtyard started opening. Fear paid no attention as the fountain began to tip into the room below. He continued to skulk towards Dominick.

  “Do you really think she’s safe? Do you really think that I wouldn’t be able to sniff out the shivers of a little baby hiding in Darksmith Manor? I will find her. And when I do, I will devour her. And then, then, Father, your legacy will end and the world will know Fear.” He lunged at the duke.

  Dominick Darksmith’s eyes glazed over as the sharpened bone pierced his chest. He clutched the tattered cloak
of the creature he once considered to be his greatest achievement. The Duke then pulled himself up to face the monster.

  “Tonight ends Darksmith Manor.”

  With his final surge of strength, he lifted Fear off the ground. Dominick charged to where the ground had broken open, and launched Fear into the chasm.

  “Three, two, one,” the doctor braced himself as his small escape pod launched out of the machine and out to the open sky.

  Then, a menacing figure collided with the front of the pod. Face-to-face with Fear, the doctor let out a scream. The impact of the collision, however, made no change in the thrust of the doctor’s device, and the two of them continued up, soaring high above Darksmith Manor. Fear clawed and scratched at the windshield. As their momentum weakened, Fear’s grip gave way until he could hold on no longer.

  Far above the forest, Fear fell from the sky. Still screaming, now more from confusion than the terror of his close encounter, the doctor deployed the pod’s small wings, took the controls, and glided to a landing spot far from that of Fear.

  As the sunrise began to break through the trees and into the courtyard of Darksmith Manor, Duke Dominick pulled himself to sit against a stone ledge. Painstakingly, he reached into his shirt and pulled out a medallion, identical to the heirloom delivered by Death to his newborn daughter. The Duke removed the chain from around his neck. He gazed upon the medallion, and then, without a further thought, raised it above his head and smashed it into the ground.

  From the shards of glass, light shot out in every direction until it reached far enough out to form a massive dome of light around Darksmith Manor. Within the light, all life was extinguished, sacrificed to create this protective barrier over Darksmith Manor, the place where Fear thought its heiress was hidden.