And the moss. There are streaks of it everywhere, ripping from under the earth, bulging at the seams of the cars and the buildings. A fly's vomit, he thinks. Softening the food.
He thinks of the endless cosmos, of a creature older than the solar system.
He thinks of Chaos Vector, of the Devilspar devouring Realms.
Chunks of highway 35 hurtle toward the sky. In the rain of vehicles falling upwards, he sees their RV.
And still the roar draws closer. Now the farm field is succumbing, groaning from the earth in ragged strips of rotten moss. The swing is straining upwards, fighting its chain.
The blue star eclipses the sun. The vortex of its hunger screams toward them, implacable.
Alan takes his son's hand, and they await it together.
A Note From the Author
This story came to me during a dark time in my life. Thank you for letting me share it with you.
If you'd like to be notified directly when I release new novels, send an email to [email protected] (not .com!), or visit my Amazon home page and then press "Follow."
If you enjoyed Todd, please consider leaving a review for it on Amazon. It doesn't need to be fancy or long, just honest. Reviews are not just about self-expression; for authors whose work you enjoy, a robust review count can open many opportunities that are otherwise simply not available. Some authors pay for their reviews; I don't, and never will. I'm reliant on readers like yourself to make their opinions heard.
Thank you again for reading. I hope the story stays with you.
If you enjoyed TODD, also consider
Alex
by Adam J Nicolai
1
In the hallway, Alex was laughing.
The sound should have grated on Ian. He was late for work, as always—furiously brushing his teeth as the seconds galloped past—and instead of getting dressed, his son was in the hall, playing with toys. The boy had no urgency in the morning, no matter how much Ian begged, threatened or explained.
Most mornings Ian would be yelling. Alex, hurry up! Get dressed! We are late! But today was different. Alex had turned five this year, and suddenly, that easy laughter—so simple, so pure—was getting rarer. Sometimes it felt like Ian hardly heard it at all.
He heard Alex scamper into his room, exclaiming something about a big train, and smiled despite himself. His son's joy was infectious. He rinsed his toothbrush, reached for the shirt hanging on the bathroom door—and stopped. Closed his eyes, instead, and relished the simple music of his son's play. Thirty seconds, he thought. Thirty seconds wouldn't cost him his job.
But he didn't get thirty seconds. Alex fell quiet. Maybe he'd gotten too absorbed in his toys. Sometimes, when the boy was really into them, Ian could find himself wondering if Alex was even still in the house. He would get up to check on him and find him squatting in his room, crouched over his trains and Star Wars guys like a mystic reading tea leaves, muttering earnest pronouncements.
Ian threw on his shirt and opened the bathroom door, expecting to find exactly that, but when he peered into Alex's room he found only stacks of cold boxes. The light from the window fell across them like riming ice.
It was empty. Of course it was.
His son had been dead for six months.
If you enjoyed TODD, also consider
Rebecca
by Adam J Nicolai
1
Sarah found herself in the living room, staring at the cars passing in the dark out on
Riverside Avenue. She had sworn she would sleep tonight, but she was awake again. The baby wasn't even crying, but Sarah was awake. During the day she could keep her brave face on. Tell herself this was all going to work out, somehow—that God wanted her to keep the baby, and she'd wanted to keep the baby, and with that kind of love, things would work out. Yes, she was young. She had given up a lot, like going to Yale. And yes, she was doing it alone. But it would work out. Nothing based on love could end in a bad way.
At night, her faith evaporated.
The baby transformed into a blob of hungry darkness: a shrill, starving thing that would never let her alone. She clutched after that blithe confidence she had felt earlier in the day, and felt it melt through her fingers. In its absence, she was left only the truth: she had lost everything. This was all there was now.
There was no one who cared anymore, not really—they'd all left or been driven away. But she craved a supportive voice. Someone to tell her she was doing the right thing, that it would all be okay, that God was with her. The things she could tell herself during the day, but was bereft of in the darkness.
And so she was only slightly surprised when she glanced across the room and saw the Messenger sitting at the dining room table. He wore an old smile—gentle and sad—and though she hadn't seen him in years, she knew at once why he was here.
God wanted her to kill her baby.
If you enjoyed TODD, also consider
Children of a Broken Sky
by Adam J Nicolai
It's hard to believe, now, how close we once were.
I remember whole summers spent racing beneath a sprawling sky, winters spent slogging through the snow and sniping each other from crumbling white forts. I remember feeling like my skin color didn't matter—not here, not with these friends, even if Seth did always call me a nog—and that every grassy ridge, every glimmer from Pinewood Lake, was a mystery waiting to be explored.
Do you remember it, too? You'd make fun of me, now and then, because I romanticized everything—but surely you remember it. A time when no transgression was unforgivable, a time before floods, and silent lightning, and death.
Maybe you really don't remember. Maybe the road we've traveled has stretched so far that you can no longer see back to the beginning. But I know our history makes you who you are, for good or ill. I know the children we were—the ones that laughed and chased each other over the hills, the ones that couldn't imagine anything worse than a frown from our parents—are still here. They are still us.
They always will be.
- Fragment of a letter from famed historian Angbar Shed'dei, recovered from his quarters upon his death, unaddressed and unsent.
Acknowledgements
Thank you to my wife, Joy, for being the kind of woman who can hold my hand through the darkest places.
Thank you Rydia and Isaac for being my light.
Thank you to my beta readers—Joe Hart, Ryan Holthaus, Dr. Ethan Mills, Jason Parviz, Jenn & Jason Godfrey, Jennifer Jaynes, and, of course, Mom.
And thank you, Mom, for your relentless, unbridled confidence and pride in me. Every year it grows more precious.
About the Author
Adam J Nicolai lives near St. Paul, Minnesota with his wife, Joy, and their two children, Isaac and Rydia. Todd is his fourth novel. For more information on Adam's other work or to contact him, see his website, http://www.adamjnicolai.com, or follow him on Facebook.
If you enjoyed Todd, please consider posting a review on Amazon or recommending the book to others. For an independent author, word-of-mouth is survival!
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