Shadows at Dusk - By: Holly (this part of the story should be posted in completion very soon) - Poetry - http://maxpages.com/edgeofinsanity/Prologue

Prologue
In this world of mysteries and enchantments its hard to say what will lay ahead. What mind expanding trips lie in the near future waiting to be unraveled. Are the shadows on modern streets merely shadows or do they hide the unspoken secrets of the past? Only to the damned are the evils unveiled. Revealing that the tales of blood and lust are not just a phase in your nightmares but a hint of metallic taste upon your lips to what has been hidden for centuries.

Such a revelation could appear from the darkness in any town at any moment in the spiral of time. This is exactly what occurred in the vast town of Huntsville. It didn’t seem like the stereotypical town any drops of what is considered evil would fall upon. In place of the dense woods were rolling lawns spotted by livestock, and the down town area was joyous with babble and laughter. Everyone on the north end of town lived a comfortable life in the vast array of large mansion sized houses. The long driveways gleaming white during the day caressed by gray shadows cast by lining trees. New sports cars sparkled in the warm sunshine and various flowers such as roses and Morning Glories draped over wrought iron fences. After dark the homes glow with night shades and look like glass palaces with their windows reflecting the moonlight. While on the south side of town lived families in small well kept neighborhoods. Wood and Brick homes line the streets enclosing loving conversations. Children can play in the streets without their parents worry and the smell of home cooked meals filled the air.

If the town itself didn’t have the necessities of its inhabitants about thirty minutes away was a metropolis of a city focused mainly on entertainment and fashion. The city streets were bursting at the seams with theaters and underground clubs. Despite the rupturing noise and exclusive night life the crime rate was relatively low for a municipal
of its size. It all seemed that Huntsville itself seemed far enough away from the city’spulsating stir of cabalistic life, that all seemed well.

The people of Huntsville beset with the farming business and the prodigality of hearsay wouldn’t have noticed what was about to occur concerning their youth and town. Not even the churches priest knew Lucifer was going to lick the necks of the children with his forked tongue.

Spring, 1989
Huntsville

At the four way stop light at the center of the down town area is where the terror all began. Within the lurking minuets just past midnight the store fronts stood deserted. The only sign that life had wandered the streets earlier in the day were the various articles of trash scattered along the gutters. Eighteen year old Steven Williams drove up slowly to the line in his new, black Toyota pick-up truck, at the split second the light turned green. Seeing that the roads were vacant at this still hour of the night he floored the accelerator. With a flash, at the heart of the crossroads a ghost car hit his truck from the side landing with a shocking force at the area of the trucks rear tire on it’s driver’s side . The world around him streaked by in a red blur as his face collided with the windshield. The sound of grinding metal filled the air with its defining pitch. Then it all came to an abrupt halt as the truck was sandwiched into a telephone pole.

The pair of cars now adjoined as one sat in a cloud of radiator steam bursting from the front end of the ghost car. Black and blue within the moonlight, their silhouette stood motionless except the growing puddle of liquid collecting beneath them. Even the wind seemed to hold its breath in a startled gasp.

Moments later Steven awoke to the blaring horn of his now mangled truck. Squinting through the swirls of blood that had collected within his eyes he searched for an escape from the wreckage. The interior of the truck seemed unfamiliar and cramped,and his long blond hair stuck to the sides of his face soaked in blood and sweat. Straining to move he tried both doors and found the two inoperable. In a last attempt he crawled out the hollow front windshield and rolled down the hood of the truck, landing on the ground with a hard “thud.” Every inch of his body screamed with pain, but he managed to roll onto his back. Lying in a carpet of crimson glass he stared blankly up at the star filled sky professing in his mind that this was his own death.

Within the fading memories he saw his family standing in front of their brick house as if in the perfect family photo. His parents and little brother standing side by sideholding cheerful smiles on their faces and wearing their best clothes. Lightning streaked the sky behind them. Then their images began the move waving like a colorless pond during a storm. When it seemed to calm the rain began to fall from sorrowful eyes that once gazed straight forward now looked the ground. What were they looking at he asked himself Struggling to see just what it was, he made out a long box and realized it was a coffin, his coffin. When he looked back up his band mates stood along side his family their long dark hair lying limp and wet upon their shoulders. Steven considered them to be the best friends he had in this wretched world. He knew that loosing their lead guitarist would crush the band as well as his friends. Then he looked back to his parents. His mother was saying something but only silence came from her lips. “What?” he whispered to her.

“I asked if you were all right,” A young man’s voice said.

The sudden, unexpected voice drew Steven away from his thoughts and back into reality. With the blood momentarily cleared from his eyes a man in his early twenties stood above him in the flickering light that came from the now leaning telephone pole. With every flash his features became more noticeable, his eyes looked down upon Steven like the sockets of a skull and his skin seemed to have the pale touch of death.

With a groan Steven let out a “Yeah man, I think so,” and tried to sit up.

“Careful” the man said and helped him to an upright position.

When Steven was sitting up a heavy stream of blood rolled down his face and onto the mans hand which lie upon his shoulder. In the still flashing light he thought he saw the man lick the blood off of his own hand, but it could have been the shock kicking in. The world around him still seemed to spin out of control mimicking his thoughts.

“What happened” he asked just as another gush of blood ran down his face. Instinctively he brought his hand up to the laceration in his forehead to find that it wasn’t just one but many.

“Stop,” the young man said and took off his dark colored T-shirt.

Realizing what he was doing Steven allowed him to proceed with stopping the blood flow from the gaping wounds in his forehead. As the young man bandaged up his forehead Steven took a first real good look at the wreck. He recognized that the other car was a dark colored Ford Mustang. The front end had been smashed in so far that there was no longer a front seat. Thinking that the driver must be dead or trapped in the wreckage some where he turned his attention back to the young man.

“Did you check the other driver,” Steven asked with concern filling his pale blue eyes.

“I am the other driver,” the young man replied wrapping the T-shirt around the top of Steven’s head.

Steven glared at him with surprise and confusion. As he began to speak he was
interrupted.

“Let me finish and I’ll explain,” the young man said.

He glanced back at the Mustang then to the young man. He had not a scratch on him. How could he have managed to escape untouched Steve wondered. Still looking for any sign of injury he asked “How did you get out?”

“I told you that I would explain”

A strong feeling of nausea crept up into Steve’s throat, and his severe loss of blood caused him to become dizzy. The young man tied off the last of the T-shirt, securing it to Steven’s head with a knot.

“Do you believe that immortality is possible” the young man asked leaning close to Steve.

Such a bazaar question surprised him or did he even say anything at all. Steve couldn’t really be sure of anything at this point. Noise louder than his own thoughts filled his head and the world began to pulsate. Steve took a deep breath trying to hold his head up but his body couldn’t take any more. His eyes rolled back into his head showing only the white part, engulfing him in darkness. He then fell back to the ground falling into the infinite space of the mind.

The wind blew over the tall buildings, moaning through the scattered cat walks. Neon lights cast the concrete jungle shades of reds and blues. Nocturnal life, the worshipers of the moon roam the streets amongst the twilight fog. Within the shadows Steven sat perched on the railing of a ground floor fire escape. His jet black leather jacket and faded jeans kept in his body heat from the icy air. Clouds of warm breath swirled around him like a soul reaching towards the sky.

His gaze reached across the street to see his band mates coming out of a night club. They stumbled about the front of the building. Intoxication ravished through their heads causing distorted perception. Steven chuckled to himself and jumped down from the railing. His black boots tucked under his jeans insured his landing with the muffled sound of rubber.

From his sudden movement a tabby cat scurried out of a metal trash can and deeper into the alley. Steam rose up about him from a sewer vent into the cement. He could see a small crescent moon above his head peering between the alley walls casting long shadows upon the ground.

Steven made his way down to the end of the alley and was stopped by a hidden force. Confused he looked for the reason for his sudden halt. He reached one hand in front of him and set his hand upon some sort of force field. Ripples formed around his palm as if the barrier was a vertical lake. The ripples turned from one color to the next as they spread outwards. The core took on an electric blue color and as it expanded it turneddifferent shades of green. To the touch it was frigid and had a static feel to it. Steven pulled his hand away and stepped back from the field. A soft hum radiated from it when each ring met the outer edges. He began to yell to his friends who were struggling to cross the street safely, but his voice seemed to be swallowed by the vertical lake.

When they reached his side of the street Bobby, the drummer, walked over to his black van and slid open the side door. After pulling out a can of beer, he leaned against the side of the van and waved his friends off as they walked in the other direction.

Steven heard a noise behind him as a shadowy figure flashed by him and through the barrier with a surge of color from the field. Who ever had just broken through was on the attack and their prey was Bobby. The dark image blocked any view of what was going to be the drummers fate. Then Bobby dropped to the ground, quiet and motionless. Steve began to hit the force field with both fists. Nothing but the loss of his own energy came form this.

The figure then stepped away from the drummers body revealing that the color had left his face and the only a shade upon his skin was the crimson blood running down his neck. Steve squinted at the wound to find two small puncture marks.

The figure turned around and faced Steve but he couldn’t quite make out his face. The only feature visible was his fanged grin. Anger began to flow through Steve’s veins. He backed further away from the field and then ran into it full force with his shoulder. The field gave off a blinding light on impact forcing Steve to cover his face with his hands.

When he opened his eyes again he found himself in a hospital room. Everything around him glowed in clean white light. He could feel the oxygen tube against his face invading his nose with puffs of air. The rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor gave him proof that he was still alive. Staying still he looked about the room and found that he wasn’t alone. Beside him sat Bobby, watching a British comedy on the TV hanging from the corner of the room. He laughed at the humor as an old woman hit her butler with a metal walker.

“Your not dead” Steve whispered.

Bobby turned his attention to Steven and shot him a smile. “I should be asking you that question,” he laughed, “you had a pretty bad car accident.”

Steven thought back and finally recalled what had happened. The memories flooded his mind causing him to sigh.

“Next time I see the bastard that hit me he will be dead,” he sneered.

Bobby pressed the red button on the remote and shut off the TV. He then turned his undivided attention to him.

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Page Updated Wed Dec 6, 2000 11:58pm EST