Into the Darkness
Page 1
Darkness & Light: Into Darkness
CT Scribe
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Canton
Darkness & Light: Into Darkness Copyright © 2019 by CT Scribe. All Rights Reserved.
Contents
About The Author
Preface
Our World Map
Symbols
1. Chapter 1
2. Chapter 2
3. Chapter 3
4. Chapter 4
5. Chapter 5
6. Chapter 6
7. Chapter 7
8. Chapter 8
9. Chapter 9
10. Chapter 10
11. Chapter 11
12. Chapter 12
13. Chapter 13
14. Chapter 14
15. Chapter 15
16. Chapter 16
17. Chapter 17
18. Chapter 18
19. Chapter 19
20. Chapter 20
21. Chapter 21
22. Chapter 22
23. Chapter 23
24. Chapter 24
25. Chapter 25
26. Chapter 26
27. Chapter 27
28. Chapter 28
29. Chapter 29
30. Chapter 30
31. Chapter 31
32. Chapter 32
33. Chapter 33
34. Chapter 34
35. Chapter 35
36. Chapter 36
37. Chapter 37
38. Chapter 38
39. Chapter 39
40. Chapter 40
41. Chapter 41
42. Chapter 42
43. Chapter 43
44. Chapter 44
45. Chapter 45
46. Chapter 46
47. Chapter 47
48. Chapter 48
49. Chapter 49
50. Chapter 50
51. Chapter 51
52. Chapter 52
53. Chapter 53
54. Chapter 54
55. Chapter 55
56. Chapter 56
57. Chapter 57
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CT Scribe
About The Author
CT Scribe, the immortal historian, has long since vanished from this world. With the ability to cement his writings into the true knowledge of the world, CT traveled the globe keeping the record of events both light and dark. Since vanishing his pen has been used by other would be scribes. These second rate historians have used his power to distort and confuse the once universal true knowledge. This is the last manuscript written by the original historian CT Scribe. It was found in a hidden chamber deep inside the Library at HighBrow. In its pages is the true account of the love that not only changed the world, but altered the course of the Forever War. In these journals the truth will be revealed to all who dare to read them.
Preface
Mari ran from the small mountain village faster than a mortals legs could carry her. The tears streaming from her eyes were blown free from the wind hitting her stinging face. The wind, the pain behind the tears, the rocks along the ground, and the foliage scraping against her skin all stung to her soul. She gave everything to the fight. She saved many of the villagers lives from the wolf-like beast attacking them tonight. Her father using his magical weapon, and her using her umbrella kept the beast at bay. That was the job. To keep the villagers safe, and the beast contained until help arrived. Everything was going to plan, until the second wolf arrived. This beast, considerably larger than the first, carried three men from its mouth. Mari recognized Kai, Micah, and Roman immediately. Dropping her guard nearly got her father killed. This was a trap meant for her family. The famed monster hunters of the Ember Mountains were now being hunted. Her father remained calm as he landed blow after blow with the magical spear. Mari battled towards the second monster holding her brothers, leaving her father to fight alone.
.
The beast dropped all but Roman from its mouth as it squared off with Mari. Her umbrella, a unique weapon full of lethal edges, extended itself twenty feet in its direction. The spiked tip nearly striking the beast hide before a razor sharp claw deflected it away. Retracting back to her she spun through the air towards the monster. Her umbrella unfolded with each edge, sharpened to deadly precision, aimed at the thing before her. This attack struck true. The pendant on her neck pulsing with a cool mist seemed to power her thrust and swings. Her legs now faster than before gave her footing for each acrobatic stab at the monster. Careful only to avoid her brother with each swipe of the unorthodox weapon. With unnatural speed Mari rounded on the monster. Leaping into the air she manages to straddle the wolfs neck. Her large muscular legs wrapped around the beast neck and squeezed. She squeezed with every ounce of strength she possessed in her legs, and pulled its head back with every muscle fiber in her arms. She squeezed with every bit of pain she had ever felt. She squeezed and squeezed losing herself in the act. When she looked down the beast neck had been torn off. Her two brothers lay a few feet away, but Roman remained in the beast mouth. Covered in blood she went to her dearest sibling to save him, but recoiled when she saw the wounds. The smell of his rotting body sickened her. Maggots squirmed around his face and open mouth. Roman had been dead before the fight even began. She was physically ill at the sight. The vomit flowing onto her body and Roman alike. Her father, fending off the smaller monster waiting on help to arrive, nearly faltered as her scream filled the village air. She could do nothing else. Her legs began running. Faster and faster they carried her into the woods surrounding the village. With each step her cries shrieked intensely, echoing in the dark. Roman was dead, and she would never be the same.
Our World Map
Symbols
1
Chapter 1
I shouldn’t be focused on the rain, but in this moment it calms me. How long has it been since I’ve felt gods tears touch my skin? The ongoing drought has lasted more years than I can remember. Water brings both sadness and renewal, like this moment. I don’t remember much of this moment. I’m later told I couldn’t grasp the event from shock. My body’s internal defense system kicked into gear, compensating for the pain. As a side effect everything is a bit fuzzy to recall. This means my body was sending all of its resources into keeping me ready to fight or flee. There must have been a primitive time when man had to fight after injury to survive. A time before hospitals and pain medicine. A time when dinner could be you or your prey. This survival instinct kept me awake when I should have gone unconscious from the pain. I don’t remember the play. I don’t remember the throw that ultimately won us the game. I don’t remember my bone split in two jagged fragments piercing through my shin, or the blood coloring the green turf crimson. I remember the rain. They say I was screaming. Looking into the sky screaming. Perhaps I was asking God why she’s so sad?
“Rain is not from heaven, nor hell. Rain is from earth. Whether sprinkle or flood, it’s blessing or curse depends on your footing. Daughters of the Rain will guide the Chosen. They are your blessing, they are your curse.”
-the lost books, CT Scribe
” Tell me how you feel about college Tye.”
“College. WellI can’t believe I’m almost in college. The thought brings, anxiety.” Tye, a well built tan young man of 18, shifts uncomfortably in the chair. He assumed most people laid back on the couch, but he choose the chair instead.
“In your journal you wrote college brings anxiety as honey brings bears. Then you fixate on your four year dilemma.
“I don’t fixate. You asked me to write so I did. I had to talk about something,” he declares defensively.
“Oh I agree. And your writing is wonderful Tye. I appreciate how open you are with me. For some this level of openness is a giant obstacle. So It’s great you let me int
o your thoughts. I can help you much better this way. However, I do think your fixating. When you write, “Four years to carve out my future. Four years to become an adult in every sense. Four long tedious boring years” you set an unhealthy timetable and outlook for yourself. You know I read an article about a young man who finished college with a double major in two years. Don’t box yourself in. If it takes you four or seven years it’s fine in either case. All things have their own timing right? I’m sensing some anxiousness about college? Today I’d like to further explore those feelings. Why are you feeling so anxious Tye?”
The young man shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Eyes downcast for a moment. He rubbed his legs together beneath the chair as he shifted slightly. After the near ritualistic movements she had learned to expect from him before he could answer her, he began his reply. “Before my injury college was all about who had the best program, ya know? Which school could get me into the NFL. I’ve always been destined for greatness they tell me. They told me. I know there’s more important things than football, but not for me It’s always been my everything. Starting quarterback on varsity for four years had never been done back home. Everyone there thought I was amazing. They thought I was invincible. Every walk through town some old timer would brag on me, and have me sign something for when I made it big. Scouts came to every game, and made me offers each night. Win or lose the scouts didn’t let up. At my size, 6’3 230 pounds as a senior, they all felt I was college ready. I’d broken enough records at Lincoln to feel accomplished. I did, I felt like I earned all of it, but I wanted more. I craved the ultimate stage of the NFL. That’s where I could really be great. Scoring a touchdown on Monday Night Football was my dream since I was a kid ya know? My brothers had me playing ball out back with the neighborhood kids as early as I can remember. A touchdown was two yards over. The neighbor lady, Ms. Lacy, had this mean dog named Bear. I swear I’m so fast now from running for my life as he snapped at my legs. There was no out of bounds back then, and we always played tackle. So many good memories from those days.” Tye realizing he had gotten lost in his memory looked up alarmed. The lady across from him showing no signs of frustration smiled at him to continue. “Anyways, footage from one of our backyard games went viral before I started peewee. From age 6 I’ve dealt with scouts. Each one selling me on their school as the best path to success. That was before the break though. I can’t even walk through town anymore. The pity in the old timers eyes makes me spiral”
“What do you remember from your accident,” said the thin lady talking to him. Habitually pushing her glasses higher up on her nose, before looking him in the eyes with a nurturing smile.
“I only know what happened from the tape. I watched it with the guys once during a team film session. I heard the crack when my leg snapped. It snapped clean in two like I was some scrawny weak kid or something. Me weak! It pissed me off ya know, to see it. None of my teammates spoke during that part of our meeting. I could feel their eyes on me as I shifted uncomfortably. It took everything I had to keep my face blank. There were still tears in the corners of my eyes. After an emotional film session I asked coach for the tape. I wanted to watch it alone. I replayed that tape over and over. We were in shotgun, trips right. The defense was in zone. Tony and Ben would crisscross the field which will give me a window to hit one of them for a quick twenty yards. The ball snaps, and I drop back 4 steps. Ben slips open. I plant my leg, and release a bullet pass. Everything goes wrong from there. The crunch is so loud on the tape. The first few times I watched it my stomach flipped at the sound. I go down hard. I remember the feeling in my leg as I slipped while planting to throw. At the same time a defender dove for a sack hitting my shin with enough force to cause the break. It was raining. I can still feel the rain as I lay there waiting on the paramedics to deliver me to my football grave. A hospital with a cast, surgery, and a premature end to my season is all that waited for me after that. All I actually remember is the huddle and the rain. The entire play is a huge blank in my mind.”
“So now you feel differently about college?” With piercing eyes hiding behind her thick rounded glasses the psychiatrist awaits an answer. Patiently without giving away her own opinion. Her patient Tye is struggling with this question more than the others. She writes a few words marking this as a challenging topic for him, and then returns her gaze to her patient. Gently, she nudges him forward with her gaze.
“College is different now. Academics came easy to me, but I never imagined needing them to make a living. I never imagined being tech support to the world’s stage. In a way it’s liberating. It’s been nearly 9 months since the break. There’s been so little pressure. It seems the football world still orbits without me.”
“Liberating is a nice feeling. Can you tell me more about how you feel liberated,” she asks.
“Initially, liberating would be my last descriptive of life. I was pissed ya know? I wrote about it in my journal a lot. Coping with my feelings of intense anger and loss. I made it fancy for you doc, but to be plain I was pissed. I was pissed at the defender. I was pissed at my line for letting him through. I was pissed at my coach for calling the play. Hell, I was pissed at my leg for being so weak. A part of me had died during the break. No amount of rehab could return me to who I was. I was indestructible. I was high school’s top threat. The emptiness consumed me as a black hole consumes light. Depression followed. My mom says it’s a blessing in a way.”
She considered her words before she spoke. “Perhaps not a blessing, but certainly not a curse. When you first came to me, we had a tough time dealing with the anger and sense of disappointment from your injury. Since then you’ve grown so much inside your mind Tye. I feel the confines of being the hometown sports hero stunted your emotional growth. As a person your incomplete, and football was just a crutch used to limp through life.”
The words hit him hard, but he had no problem accepting them as true. A fact that he knew deep down his entire life. Hearing her say it gave Tye some peace. Julianne, the glasses wearing psychiatrist, wasn’t his first shrink. She’s not like the others he’s seen over the different phases of his life. His parents were always concerned about the pressure he faced, and started him in the habit of seeing someone early. Julianne was special. She felt less like a shrink, and more like his big sister. Her favorite hobbies were journal writing and calling him on his shit. She didn’t baby him the way everyone else did. She challenged his worldview. Occasionally insulting his limited high school viewing window. Missing a year of football wouldn’t be the end, but facing injury Tye wanted to quit for good. It took a long while to realize that wasn’t him. At some point a black hole grew inside of him. A creation of the break he experienced more than physically. More than his leg broke that day of rain. Even though Julianne is right about missing a year not ruining his football career, he decided to take his academics more seriously. There could always be another break, a worse break. Tye realized he needed to be prepared the next time. He needed to be prepared for college with or without football.
2
Chapter 2
“My college classes start today. My parents helped me move in two days ago. I brought the typical stuff a college freshman brings: clothes, books, a laptop, noise cancellation headphones, my own toilet seat ( public toilets are gross), a digital picture frame, and the antidepressants Julianne prescribes to me ( my mini sun’s) to combat the depression ( my black hole).”
-Social Media Post, Tye
Anxiety overwhelms me in a new way. To feel scholastic pressure for the first time makes me more nervous than a rivalry game. Without football to center my universe, the irregular orbit of my life scares me a bit. With fear the black hole grows. Consuming the positive feelings I had last night of meeting new people. It pulls the bio-engineering major and dreams of finding new cures to help the world right along with it. It sucks the energy from my legs leaving me crippled in bed. I stay hidden under my covers. Just 5 more minutes. My alarms went off earlier. I had the drea
m again. The one where I’m screaming on the field. Someone else is there calling for me. They’re telling me to run, but I can never see who or from what before I wake up. How long has it been since I dismissed the wake up noise. How long has it been since waking up was, easy. Nothing came easy anymore. Sleeping use to be easy. Exhaustion from practice making a night’s sleep routine. Waking was easy. Starvation usually snapped me away from my night movies. My dreams were so damn easy. Changing scenes of sports competitions and girls I kinda like played on my mental theater as I rested. Nothing is easy anymore. The labored motions of my daily routine cement me at times. I can spend hours in one spot doing nothing, but minutes of actual activity drain me worse than a cell phone battery from middle school. After a few “5 more minutes”, I’m thinking maybe I’ll just start tomorrow. How far can I get behind in one day? Bzzz, bzzz. Bzzz, bzzz. Bzzz, bzzz. My phone buzzes on my desk. I swore I silenced it after the last snooze. It keeps ringing. It’s in arms reach so I grab it. The face on the screen let’s me know I’m in for it. The familiar words of my mother on the screen instructing me to get up. My mom’s words were neither comforting nor hurtful. The message reads, “take your pill, go to class, call me tonight. Love Mom”. At times I feel she’s psychic. Not like the lady in town who tells you your future from shuffling cards and reading the cracks and grooves of your palm. She’s more the penetrate your inner most thoughts type. Telepathic like Charles Xavier. For my remaining senior year I’d catch here gaze piercingly into my darkest recesses. When she lifted her eyes she knew the right command to stop my mind from spinning. “Walk the dog, move the couch, help me cook, call your Nana, take out the trash, for God’s sake go shower,” and so on. Simple task. The simplicity kept my mind from slipping into the darkness. This was no exception. I open my bottle of mini sun’s and consume the proper dose of solar energy to limp through my day.