Thursday June 7, 2011
Chapter One
HOLY SHIT!
Quirk Evans struggled to both maintain his balance, as well as his grip on his groceries, as a gust of wind blew through the variety store’s parking lot.
“Where the Hell did that come from?” he wondered as he watched the contents of a garbage can race each other across the concrete—a demented advancing army of empty wrappers, soda cans and other assorted debris.
It hadn’t been more than five to ten minutes since he’d entered the store and at that time the night had been still.
As he continued across the parking lot, another gust of wind rocked against him, this time blowing dust and dirt into his eyes.
“FUCK,” he uttered, as he almost lost his grip, once again, on his groceries. With his one free hand he rubbed at his eyes, while continuing to fight the wind on his way to his car.
“Could it be a tornado,” he wondered. “There’s never been a tornado in Barkerton.”
As he fumbled in his jeans pocket for his keys, he couldn’t help thinking this fact could be attributed to the town’s lack of a trailer park—no incentive for a tornado to strike. Quirk smiled to himself as he opened the car door. Not everyone responded to the strange thoughts his mind produced, but they at least amused him.
Quirk quickly climbed in his car, placing the groceries on the passenger seat. He could feel the wind bouncing off the side of the car, with more force than he would have suspected.
“This isn’t good,” he thought, as he put the key in the ignition and went to turn it, before hesitating. He looked intently out the window, a chill racing up and down his spine; enough to bring about an involuntary shiver.
Had he seen something moving in the night?
A shadow?
A dark shadow – almost one with the night, moving with the wind?
At the same time, he sensed he wasn’t alone, but knew he was.
Something wasn’t right; every sense of self preservation in him was suddenly alert.
Something was wrong.
Quirk looked out, into the darkness, looking for the shadow, but there was nothing; and the wind was dying down.
“Had anything ever been there?” he wondered.
Quirk didn’t know what to think. He had a unique way of getting too involved in his work. Over the last seven years he’d written and published five best-selling horror novels, and was presently working on his sixth, or at least trying to. A much more terrifying evil than a shadow in the night had been terrorizing him of late—writer’s block. His struggles with his laptop and his current characters, had promoted this outing for munchies—a chance to get out of his home office and clear his head.
“There’s nothing in the night,” he reminded himself. “No vampires, werewolves, witches or any other fictional creatures.”
Quirk started the car.
“The only thing that lurks in the night,” he muttered to himself, “is a publisher and a quickly approaching deadline, and that’s terrifying enough.”
Quirk pulled out of his parking spot and started his five minute journey back to his own personal Hell.
The Spirit smiled to itself as it completed its long journey to Barkerton. Along the way, it’d passed many opportunities and moments of sin that it could have manipulated or pushed along, but that would have to wait. The intensity of Barkerton’s call was strong and too tempting to pass.
A ragged smile crossed its centuries old grey, cracked lips as it briefly gazed at the frightened man in his car. The man knew it was there, if only for a fleeting moment. If he knew the truth he wouldn’t have kept looking, but raced as far away as his car could take him. No one knew the truth.
It had been a long time since the Spirit had spent time in Barkerton. It was good to be back.