(Fan/Act/MC)Messenger[G]

Not much of a beginning, but I needed something for my English class. I apologize for not updating Pearl of Darkness recently, but I've been hard at work. You know...homework...Mario Kart DS...anyway, now that I've got my portfolio taken care of, I should continue writing PoD shortly. Until then, I hope you enjoy this and tell me what I can do to make it better.

UPDATE: You're probably better off putting me on alert on my fictionpress account. I hardly ever come here.

Messenger
by Hylian Lemon

Prologue

A cool ocean breeze swept Marcus Weaver's curly blond hair behind him. Weeds and blue prickly flowers sprouted through the light gray stones underneath his red tennis shoes. This was his thinking place. It was a ruined castle on a hilltop not far from town, and it ended in a jagged cliff of reddish rock, plunging into the warm, dark blue ocean far below.

Once, there had been shards of earthen pottery scattered about the courtyard, engraved with blue and green transparent pebbles. They had long since been stolen, and all that remained was a pile of lichen-covered blocks of stone.

He liked to sit near the top of the pile overlooking the ocean, on a certain rock that was actually quite comfortable. Ideas seemed to drop into his lap whenever he sat there. One had just come in on the breeze when his friend Laura found him. Marcus was hunched over a notepad scribbling away with a stubby pencil, so Laura knew to keep quiet and wait. If she interrupted his brainstorming, he usually lost his train of thought and got mad at her.

It was best to sit behind him until it looked like he was done writing. Having been a good friend of Marcus since they were very young, Laura had read a lot of his stories. Something about them always sent shivers down her spine; they were so real and so strange at the same time. Despite the abnormal settings, like a snowy forest atop a cloud, the way he wrote the story made her believe that a whole world built on clouds was completely normal.

He had paused in the middle of writing a sentence and was sitting still again. Laura held her breath and tried to see over his shoulder, but she was too far back to see what he was writing about. Suddenly his head spun around, and she ducked behind a rock. She knew it had been too late, though, so she poked her head back up into view.

"Sorry, Marc. I didn't want to interrupt you. Your mom was wondering where you were. I told her I didn't know, but I thought you were probably up here," Laura said loudly to counter the wind.

"It's ok. What did she want me for?"

"Just wanted to know if you wanted anything from the store. She's going up to Kingston later today." Laura tried to keep her black, straight hair from whipping around her and pulled a strand out of her mouth several times.

"Only thing I can think of is some more notebook paper. Another pencil would be nice too; this one's about worn out," Marcus replied, holding up the stub of wood for Laura to see. He quickly grabbed a sheet of paper before it blew out over the edge of the cliff.

"Well? Aren't you going to tell her?" Laura persisted.

"...I'm a little busy. Could you - "

"Tell her for you so you don't lose your fresh ideas or whatever?" Laura said. "Sure, fine. Just promise me that I can be the first one to read whatever it is you're writing there."

"Of course. Thanks. I think you'll really like this one," Marcus said over his shoulder, violently scribbling on the piece of paper. Laura sighed, turned around and carefully stepped down the pile of stone blocks. She could see the town of Tidesdale at the bottom of the valley below. Tidesdale was the kind of town where everyone knew each other. If anyone even knew about the town, it was either because they were relatives to one of the residents or because they were involved in the coal industry. It was just a small mining town at the base of Mt. Kearn.

Laura's grandfather, George Stone, was involved with switching the tracks for the coal trains going over the river. Her parents had disappeared long ago, and she and her younger brother had been in the care of their grandfather since before she could remember. George supposedly knew what had happened to Laura's parents, but he had never revealed the secret to her. Marcus was an only child, but he lived with both his mom and dad. It seemed more like he just lived with his mom, though; his dad's mining job took the whole day and most of the night.

The town didn't have a general store. The only things you could buy there were vegetables and gas. The residents had to travel along the forest ridge for half an hour to get to Kingston, where they could buy a wider selection of products. The town wasn't much bigger, but it rested on a well-traveled highway, unlike Tidesdale. It had a lot more business. The people of Tidesdale usually took turns driving to Kingston and doing each other's shopping.

Laura kicked a good-sized rock down the hill in front of her. She was almost at the bottom. Looking back up the hill into the blue cloudless sky, she wondered if Marcus had thought anything interesting up. What kind of characters would he create this time? How long would the story last?

I shouldn't worry about it, she thought. It'll be perfect, just like his other stories. The idea of soon reading something new sparked interest in her, since Tidesdale had no library, and she quickened her gait. There were only four streets in town; they crisscrossed to form what looked like a big tic-tac-toe game. Some of them went off to different places, like the forest ridge or the bridge over the river, and some just formed dead-ends. Marcus lived almost at the end of one of these.

Laura could see Tracy, Marcus' mom, waiting outside by their outdated pale blue car. Her sandy blond hair was pulled neatly into a ponytail and she was wearing her best jeans; they were probably the only ones without a paint stain or hole in them.

"Did you find him?" she asked.

"Yeah. He needs more paper and a new pencil; that's it."

"Oh. Ok, then. I'll be leaving now. See you later," Tracy said, pulling herself into the car and slamming the door shut.

"Bye," Laura said, watching the blue car disappear down the street. There was nothing left to do but go finish her homework and wait for Marcus to get back. She headed after the car towards her house.

~))(())(())(())((~

Marcus wrote so furiously across the paper that his hand started cramping. His thoughts didn't seem to slow down, even when he took a break to flex his fingers, so he tried not to stop often. The ideas flowed so rapidly that he felt like his brain couldn't keep up. The things he was writing about were even stranger than anything from his previous stories, and he began to wonder if they even were his ideas. There was real emotion in them, as if someone was actually telling him their life story.

There was no point in thinking about it, though. If he wanted to get it all down, he couldn't stop to think. He felt as though he was in a different world, floating amidst a thousand words, and if he lost concentration they would all be lost. If he stayed focused, this would be the best story he had ever written.

I like it, was a very good opening and I'm curious as to what he's writing too...though from this point: "..."Of course. Thanks. I think you'll really like this one," Marcus said..." you used the town name of Tisdale...a lot.

Is that a problem?

Thanks, though. The story will be a lot more interesting than it sounds right now. I don't know when I'll get around to writing more. The school year isn't exactly the best time to write stories.

Just stuck out is all - by the 4th or 5th one - it started to bug me... I must be easily annoyed...

I got rid of a few of them. Any better?

Maybe it's just an annoying name. If you think of something more pleasant, feel free to suggest it.

Originally Posted by Hylian Lemon

I got rid of a few of them. Any better?

Maybe it's just an annoying name. If you think of something more pleasant, feel free to suggest it.

No the name is fine and yes, it definitely flows better now

Good news. I actually took the time to write the next chapter.

Chapter 1

Pale wisps of orange cloud streaked across the darkening sky, subtly beckoning shadows out from their hiding places. The rhythmic sound of breakers pouring over the rocks at the base of the cliff filled the salty air, and the cry of seagulls only penetrated the cycle occasionally. Cooling air rustled through the tall, dry grass, creating a barely audible swishing sound.

Marcus sat on the rock, holding his head in his hands. His notebook lay in front of him, displaying the abrupt discontinuation of his thoughts. An hour had passed, and inspiration had abandoned him. No more ideas came, try as he might to bring them back. He wondered if his mom had finished shopping. He wondered what was going on at home. Now that he realized that he was, in fact, in the real world, he could no longer think as if he were in a different world.

Swiftly, he grabbed the notebook, closed it, and stood up. Almost as soon as he put weight on his sleeping legs, they crumpled beneath him and he tumbled off the pile of rubble. Groaning from the bruises he had just won, he lay in the long grass for a few minutes, struggling to overcome his body's lethargy.

Tomorrow I'll take a break once in a while to keep myself alive, he decided. After a few more minutes of convincing himself that he had to get up, he gave his body a heave and sat up. Rubbing his head, Marcus searched for his notebook. It lay sprawled in the grass nearby, exposing his ideas to the wind. He quickly scooped it up, messily closed the papers inside, and set off down the hill in a jog.

Hopefully he hadn't missed supper. If the sun was already going down, it was probably about seven o'clock. His family usually ate around then. Well...he and his mom did. Marcus only saw his dad briefly once in a while, right when he was leaving or coming back from work. In fact, he would be at a loss for words if anyone ever asked him what exactly his dad looked like. Personally, Marcus wondered why anyone would work so long, especially a married man with a kid. He had come to the conclusion that his dad wasn't all that interested in them anymore.

Surprisingly, all the windows at his house were dark. Their car was gone, as well. I guess Mom hasn't come back yet. I wonder how long it's been since she left. He hopped up the front steps, avoiding the second one, which always felt like it would collapse. Swinging open the screen door, he grabbed the knob behind it. Locked. Sometimes the back door was left open, so he jumped off the porch, sending up a few flakes of faded green paint, and headed around the side of the house.

The sky grew to a dark blue, and the air swarmed with the sound of crickets. Behind the house, a few lightning bugs flashed, and the moon cast a soft glow on the back wall. Marcus carefully stepped up the concrete steps, making sure no gardening tools had been left there. The brass doorknob, covered in dried paint splotches, didn't budge.

"Crap," he muttered, giving the door a heavy whack with his knee. Unfortunately, it didn't help. The door wasn't simply jammed; it had been locked. Suddenly, a thump from inside grabbed his attention. Peering through a dirty glass windowpane in the door, Marcus struggled to get a good view past the curtains. Darkness filled the house, and he couldn't see anything inside.

Then a light turned on. He could see the doorway from the kitchen to the living room, where the front door rested. A bright yellow glow shone through, casting a light rectangle of light on the kitchen floor. Still no sign of movement existed. He decided to run around to the front of the house again and check it out; he hadn't seen or heard his mom's car arriving.

There, in the driveway, sat Marcus' rusty bicycle. His mom still hadn't come back. Then who's in the house? Marcus thought, wondering whether he should get the police. Cautiously he stepped toward the front porch, ducking low in case the robber was looking out the window. He had to be sure. It would be stupid to get the police's attention if nothing was going on. Maybe his mom had had car trouble and had walked the rest of the way home.

As Marcus crawled up the stairs, reaching over the second step, the answer came to him. What was wrong with him? They had the living room lights set on a timer. Every night at a set time, they turned on automatically.

He stood up, brushed the dirt off his jeans, and looked in the living room window. Everything rested right where it usually did, and there was no sign of anyone inside. Marcus turned around with the intent to ask if Laura's family still had his spare key. Suddenly there was a click and a long, slow creak behind him, and he jumped.

"Marcus?"

The heavy, gritty voice appeared to know his name, so Marcus slowly turned around. Standing in the doorway was the silhouette of a huge man wearing very baggy clothes. Marcus gawked at the black shape, trying to push his way through the rays of light coming at him. All he could do was stand there shielding his eyes.

Then the man closed the door, and Marcus got a good look at him. He was dressed in green canvas material, and it was almost impossible to tell his skin color, because he was completely covered in black smudges. His disgustingly messy brown hair had to be about seven feet above his torn-up boots, and it looked like he could break every scale he came across just by setting one foot on it. Marcus forgot how to speak, and simply stood rooted to the spot with a gaping mouth. It was his father.

~))(())(())(())((~

Tracy was the last customer in the grocery store. The "closed" sign had been put up, and an employee was waiting impatiently for Tracy to finish her shopping. As she entered the next aisle, she chanced a look at him to see that he was picking his nose and watching her. When he noticed that she saw him, he pretended to be fixing the cash register.

Tracy glanced at her list briefly as she grabbed the last package of bread from the shelf. Finally! This is the last thing. If I had put one more single thing into my car, I swear the tires would all explode. Being today's shopper, she had to buy things for several people from town. The long trip took a lot of gas, so the town had decided to combine shopping errands. Tracy hated shopping. If anything was lower on her list, it was stupid employees.

"Is this all?" the cashier asked mechanically. One hand punched numbers into the keypad and the other hand tapped its dirty fingernails rapidly against the counter.

"Uhh, yes," Tracy answered, eyeing the shopping cart chock-full of food products.

"Do you have any coupons?" he asked, adjusting the crooked name card that read "Jeremy" until it looked like he was about to tear the red and white striped shirt.

Tracy took the opportunity to fumble around with her purse for a few minutes to see how he would react. She tried to restrain herself from smiling as she searched for the nonexistent coupon she knew she had; it was just hiding somewhere. If there was anything good she could say about stupid employees, it was that they were fun to mess around with. After she was satisfied, she pulled out her wallet.

"How much?" Tracy questioned, shuffling through the contents of her wallet.

"Uhh, one hundred and seventy-four dollars and fourteen cents," replied the cashier after discontinuing the tapping and briefly glancing at the screen. Tracy rummaged around inside the wallet, counting each bill slowly. The cashier started tapping his fingers again. "Do you have a credit card?" he asked impatiently.

"Yes. Do you take Mastercard?" Tracy asked, slightly disappointed.

"Um, let me check," the employee mumbled, glancing around for the picture that displayed which credit cards the store accepted. "Yeah, we do."

Tracy handed him her card and he swiped it through the machine. "Weaver, Tracy" appeared on the screen. She's the one, Clarence thought. He reached out to hand back her card, looking up at the security cameras, hoping he had turned them off correctly.

~))(())(())(())((~

Marcus sat at the kitchen table, watching his dad on the other end. After having showered and washed up, Clayton Weaver didn't smell quite as bad, but the aroma of sweat and charcoal lingered in the house. Not even the scent of the frozen pizza Marcus had cooked while his dad showered was enough to lessen the odor.

His mom still hadn't come home, and it was nearly eight o'clock. In between staring at his reflection in the dark window and staring at the cooling pizza in front of him, he stared at his dad across the table. Without the dark stains all over Clayton's face, he actually reminded Marcus of a great white shark. His skin was unnaturally pale, probably from being underground so long. Muscles rippled everywhere every time he moved. Besides that, he was wolfing down pizza at an alarming rate.

"You gonna eat that?" Clayton asked, sucking the fingers of his left hand and motioning to Marcus' food with the right. Marcus pushed his plate over without a word and watched as the pizza disappeared within a few seconds. "Got anythin' else to eat?"

Marcus lethargically tipped his head in the general direction of the fridge. Clayton stood up, strode across the room - a mere two steps for him - and pulled open the rusty fridge door. Marcus resumed watching his reflection in the kitchen window. Was there any special reason his dad had come home so early that night? He was acting as though nothing was out of the ordinary.

"Well? Why you gotta be so quiet?" Clayton broke Marcus' concentration, slamming a bottle of ketchup and a leftover hamburger patty on the table.

"I dunno...I just...well...Mom's been gone for a while. I think she should've come back sooner."

"That's all?" Clayton asked, smirking. Marcus stared at him for a few seconds.

"Why are you home so early?" Marcus finally asked, glad at least to have gotten it off his mind.

"Now, that's what I was waitin' for. Well, I'll tell ya." There was a brief pause as Clayton chewed on a piece of ketchup-smothered ground beef. Marcus watched Clayton's Adam's apple bob up and down as he swallowed the lump. Out with it, thought Marcus. Finally Clayton opened his mouth. "I came to warn you."

I am working on Pearl of Darkness, but in the meantime, I had to finish more of this for english class. Here it is, if anyone can be bothered to read it.

Chapter 2

Captain Parish's eyes fluttered open to the sound of the soggy door to his cabin slam open. Candlelight flooded the room with a dim glow; it illuminated the unshaven face of the crew member holding it. Parish sat upright in his wobbly captain's chair, closing the book on the desk he had been sleeping on.

"Cap'n, Mister Morris has arrived. Shall I show 'im in?"

"Yes. Let him in," John Parish sighed with a lethargic wave of his hand. The crew member shut the door, enveloping Parish in shadows. His ship, Seascale, hadn't seen sunlight in a long, long time in these caves, but finally they had a chance of seeing the open sea once again. Finally they would get out of this prison, and it all depended on the help of a boy.

There was a quiet scrabbling sound against the rotten floorboards, and suddenly something thumped onto his desk. He couldn't see a thing, but he knew it to be Morris Woodlam, the man he had enlisted to help with his plan.

"You've delivered the message to the boy?" John inquired, staring into the darkness where he estimated the man's face was.

"Told him the whole story," Morris affirmed. "Now, about my reward..."

"We can discuss that," John promised. "How about some light?"

"I prefer the dark," Morris replied. John smiled, showing a sliver of a golden tooth to the shadows through his tightly curled lips.

"Very well. Then what is your request?"

"You know why I did it. I'm here for the information," Morris answered with what sounded like a very straight face.

"You mean this," John indicated, pulling a worn sheet of paper from a mildewed desk drawer and placing it in front of him. There was a brief silence.

"You know I can't read," Morris threatened, "and you also know I'm more powerful than you."

"Right," John chuckled, keeping his fear bottled up. "I'll tell you the basics. Your castle was destroyed about two hundred years ago by the same villains that I'm after. They call themselves Krains, but apart from that I don't know who they are or where they come from. When my crew and I sailed to this place to investigate a rumor about their whereabouts, we were captured in the night and found ourselves locked underground, right in this very cavern.

"Ever since that day, I've been anxious to find some way to escape, but there was never anything besides rock walls and water. Then I found you. If you continue to help us escape, I promise I will avenge the murders of those lost to you two hundred years ago," John finished. Morris was silent for a moment.

"My people are much more able than yours," Morris decided. "If you could just tell me where they hide - "

"I told you already, we don't know where."

There was more silence.

"But if you deliver more messages, I might remember," John added with an invisible smirk.

"What do you want?" Morris asked.

"Well, I just told you. I want you to deliver a - "

"No, Captain Parish. What do you want?" Morris asked again, sounding almost as if he were pleading. John sat for a few seconds, trying to determine what exactly the man meant. After a moment of thinking, he decided to answer, whether it was what Morris wanted or not.

"I want freedom," he sighed. "I want freedom for my crew."

Even though the two remained in complete darkness, John felt that they finally understood each other.

~))(())(())(())((~

"What do you mean?" Marcus asked, staring confusedly across the table at his father.

"I mean that you're not allowed to keep goin' up to the ruins," Clayton answered, sounding very serious. "And that story you're writin'. Stop." Marcus tried to find a hint of a joke on Clayton's face, but it remained perfectly straight. He had even stopped eating the hamburger patty.

"...Why?" Marcus ventured.

"Just do as I say," Clayton replied, and with that, he stood and finished off the rest of the hamburger. After washing his hands, he headed for the back door.

"Wait!" Marcus shouted. His father stopped, looking back for a few seconds.

"Take care," Clayton finally said. Marcus was left sitting alone in the kitchen as the back door slammed. Everything returned to stillness and the chirping of crickets. It was just an average autumn night; nothing had happened. That's what he decided to tell himself, anyway. There was still the nagging thought in the back of his mind that made him wonder if anything would happen if he didn't follow his dad's instructions. Besides that, his mom still hadn't returned home. There was simply no way he could tell himself nothing was wrong anymore.

Just as the thought left him, a light flashed across the front of the house, displaying a striped design across the walls of the living room. He got up and went into the living room, peering through the blinds. Darkness returned suddenly, and he was left with blind spots where the lights had been. A car door slammed. Rubbing at his eyes, he hoped it was his mom.

He turned out to be right. Tracy Weaver entered through the front door looking like a dead thing and stumbling towards the kitchen with bags of groceries. As soon as she set the bags on the kitchen table, she fell over, lying limp on her side. Marcus stood rooted to the spot, staring. She was breathing, but her eyes were closed and she wasn't moving.

"Mom? Are you okay?" Marcus asked, gently turning her onto her back. She made a quiet grumbling sound, and her head fell to one side. Maybe she was just sleeping. Yes, that was it. He decided to carry her upstairs to her bed; it had probably been a long day. It was probably time for him to sleep as well, though he didn't feel it was possible with everything on his mind. He'd have to ask her what had kept her so long the next day.

Marcus was a little taller than his mom, but it was still difficult to pick her up. He stumbled through the door of the kitchen, carefully guiding Tracy's head so it wouldn't hit the wall. It took a little more work to carry her upstairs, but he managed to do it. After walking slowly down the hallway, he pushed open the door to her bedroom with his back. He turned sideways, entered the room, and set her on the bed. Satisfied, he crossed the hallway to his own bedroom, closing the door behind him.

~))(())(())(())((~

Morris and John sat in the dark for a long three minutes without saying a word. There was no way for their eyes to adjust to such darkness; it was the true meaning of pitch black. Sealed off in an ancient ship in the middle of a giant cavern, there was absolutely no light at all. Both Morris Woodlam and Captain John Parish preferred their meetings this way, because it was harder to pay attention with each other in view. Being six feet taller than Morris, John found it difficult to remember who was the more powerful. Morris may have measured up to a measly two inches, but his knowledge in black magic was enough to kill a man John's size easily.

"So...do we have an agreement?" John asked after clearing his throat.

"Just tell me what you need delivered," Morris replied.

"Actually, I have more than a message this time," John confessed. He pulled open another desk drawer and lifted the fake bottom. Grabbing the cold, hard object underneath, he closed the drawer. There was a soft thud as he set it on the desk in front of him. Morris inspected it with a quick shuffling sound.

"I can do it. Any message to go along with it?" Morris questioned.

"Of course," John responded. "This is what I want you to say..."

John leaned over and whispered his message to the small man, who stood by attentively until he had heard the whole thing. Suddenly the door to the cabin swung open again, the candlelight casting a glow over Captain John sitting in his chair and Morris standing on the desk.

"Cap'n, the tide's goin' out," reported the crew member.

"Right. I hope you've memorized my message, Mister Morris?" John asked.

"Of course," replied Morris, holding the metallic object to be delivered under his arm.

"Good," John said. "Now you must be going if you want to get off this ship before we head out to the open waters again. Oh, what am I saying? Nothing's open down here; I meant the center of this blasted cavern. The tide comes in and goes out through some long underwater fissure, and we don't want to be stuck on these rocks when it does go out. Farewell, and remember everything I told you."

~))(())(())(())((~

Marcus didn't pay attention in school the next day. All he could think about was the day before. Why had his dad appeared just to set a strange new rule? Why had his mom taken so long to get home? Would he be able to write anything under so much stress?

"Marcus?"

"Huh?" Marcus looked up to find himself back in the present.

"Homework?" asked his teacher, Mrs. Ryan. Marcus embarrassingly realized that he had forgotten about it in the excitement the day before.

"I don't have it, Mrs. Ryan," he mumbled before letting his head drop to the desk in front of him and slipping back into the past.

"Turn it in tomorrow for half credit..." Mrs. Ryan's voice faded into the distance.

After school, he realized that he was running when Laura called him to stop.

"Wait! Marc!" Laura shouted, slowing to a walk when Marcus stopped running to let her catch up.

"What?" Marcus asked, surprised at how irritated he sounded. It must've shown, because Laura looked at him oddly.

"What's with you today? You totally spaced out back in fifth hour," she panted.

"Nothing's fine. I mean, everything's fine. Nothing's wrong with me. I have to go; I'm busy."

With that, Marcus started running again, his backpack bouncing up and down. Laura slowed to a stop, watching him cross the street. He was right the first time; something definitely wasn't fine. She knew it would be a bad idea to bother him, though, and she decided to talk to him about it later when he wasn't so jumpy. Marcus was probably going to get back to work on his story, anyway, and she didn't want to impede him. Looking both ways, she crossed the street perpendicular to his and headed home.

~))(())(())(())((~

"Mom?" Marcus shouted, banging the screen door open and barging into the house. He had decided earlier that he wouldn't tell her of his father's appearance yesterday; it could upset her. All he would ask was why she had come home so late. Finally he found her sitting at the kitchen table eating tortilla chips and doing the daily crossword puzzle from the newspaper.

"Have a good day?" Tracy asked. Marcus wished he could feel as relaxed as she seemed.

"Whatever. What kept you yesterday?" Marcus questioned, wanting to get right to the point after a whole day of tension.

"Oh, I'm sorry about that. There were more groceries than usual, and on top of that, I got a flat tire after loading up the car. I knew it would happen, but I didn't expect it to happen. Weird, huh?"

"That's it?" Marcus asked, somewhat disappointed. Tracy's left eyebrow rose.

"Should it have been something different?" she asked.

"I guess not," Marcus replied, slowly leaving the room to carry his backpack upstairs.

"Oh, and Marcus?" Tracy added before he was gone. He turned around.

"What?"

"You've been spending a lot of time up by the ruins, haven't you?" Tracy questioned, even though she already knew the answer. Marcus returned the question with a blank stare. "Well, you can't go anymore. It's too far from town," Tracy instructed. Marcus' jaw dropped open.

"You too?" The words slipped out before he realized what he was saying. His mom's face changed from one of sternness to one of inquisition.

"Never mind," Marcus stammered, turning and dashing up the stairs. Before he slammed his door, his mom called after him one last time.

"And I want you to write something else. Throw out that story you've been working on!"

Originally Posted by Hylian Lemon

I am working on Pearl of Darkness, but in the meantime, I had to finish more of this for english class. Here it is, if anyone can be bothered to read it.

Why wouldn't they? - is a very good story. and it gets stranger and stranger with every chapter. Marcus is an interesting character. I am very curious now as to what he's been writing as well as who the folks are stuck under (I'm assuming the ruins) I hope nothing really bad has happen to his Mom, I recall there was an evil cashier in a previous chapter.

Oh one thing struck me as incongruent:

"You mean this," John indicated, pulling a worn sheet of paper from a mildewed desk drawer and placing it in front of him. There was a brief silence.

"You know I can't read," Morris threatened, "and you also know I'm more powerful than you."

"Right," John chuckled, keeping his fear bottled up. "I'll tell you the basics. Your castle was destroyed about two hundred years ago by the same villains that I'm after

then a few paragraphs later - Mr Morris seemed much less ominous - could just be me. Good stuff - be looking forward to more

Thanks for the comments.

Originally Posted by achitka

a few paragraphs later - Mr Morris seemed much less ominous - could just be me

Well, there's a difference between being powerful and being ominous. I do see your point, though.

o.O Why didn't you tell me chapter 3 was done!? This story is pretty interesting, looking forward to more.

Tracy Weaver entered through the front door looking like a dead thing

That description made me laugh for some reason.

Sorry, and thanks. Here's the next chapter.

Chapter 3

Thoughts rushed through Marcus's head as he lay in his dark room that night. He didn't know whether or not his mom and dad had met sometime in the day, but it was completely possible. Her story about the flat tire sounded like a cover-up, and Marcus didn't like that. His parents were keeping something from him; that was for sure. Would anything happen if he disobeyed and went up to the ruins tomorrow? That was less clear. There hadn't been any specific consequence mentioned, just the warning. Neither of them had really explained the rule. Too far from town? Yeah, right. He had been going there for years.

There was a loud, sudden rustling sound, and Marcus jolted upright in a sweat. It was too dark to see anything. Luckily his bed was near the light switch, so he flicked the lights on. Nothing but a bunch of papers strewn across the wooden floor. He had left the window open to let in the cool night air; his room had been stifling earlier. A breeze must have blown some papers from his desk. He turned off the light and settled back into his bed, but he couldn't help staring out the window.

He had a feeling something was going on out there, somewhere. Something evil. Whether or not it had to do with the ruins was something he couldn't answer. To give himself some peace of mind so that he could sleep, Marcus decided against going to the ruins the next day. There was no point in disobeying; he would just get in trouble. He didn't want to find out the extent of that trouble. Besides, he didn't need the ruins in order to write stories. All the ideas were in his head; he could pull them out some other way.

The only sensible thing to do was find out more about the new rule before doing anything stupid. The ruins could wait at least a few days.

~))(())(())(())((~

Marcus's eyes flashed open. It was still dark. There was something different about the atmosphere, though. The room looked kind of reddish. He tried to go back to sleep, but then the window caught his eye. The shade was down. He had left it open last night, hadn't he? Thrusting off the covers, he slipped out of bed and made his way to the window, bare feet slapping against the wood floor. He gave a quick tug downwards and eased the shade up.

A pale orange light flooded the room, and Marcus's lips parted in shock. Fire and smoke clouded the night sky. The whole town of Tidesdale was going up in flames. What about his house? He slid the window open and leaned out, choking on the smoky air. No, the fire hadn't reached his street yet. Suddenly he noticed someone standing in his yard. It was someone small, about Laura's size. Was it Laura?

It was. She was just standing in the middle of the front yard, staring up at his window. What was wrong with her? Something was different, but he couldn't tell in the darkness. He had to wake up his mom and then go outside to meet Laura.

"I'm coming down!" Marcus called out the window. "Hold on a sec!"

He whipped around, hopped across the room after tripping over a box, and grabbed the doorknob. It was searing hot.

"Aaghh!" He screamed, flapping his burned hand around to cool it off. Flipping the light on, he saw that smoke was coming in through the gap at the top of his door. The house was already on fire, then? "Mom!" Marcus yelled, hoping he was loud enough to wake her up across the hallway. It wasn't safe to go through his door, so shouting was all he could do. "Wake up! There's a fire!" He tripped over the box again on his way to the window and kicked it aside. Laura was still standing in the same place.

The roof of the front patio was outside his window. He thrust himself through the opening and clambered to the end of the roof, keeping an eye on Laura the whole time. She never moved a muscle. After easing himself down from the gutter and letting go, he ran towards her.

Then he stopped. Laura's eyes had turned gray. Her skin was sizzling and flaky, and he almost expected it to chip off and start oozing everywhere. Her face was dirt-covered and blank. She kept looking up at his window, ignoring Marcus. Following her gaze, he quickly found that she actually wasn't looking at his room. A ring of light was suspended in the dark sky, and he knew at once that it wasn't night at all. It was a solar eclipse. A total one, at that. He turned towards Laura, but she was still staring straight at the eclipse.

Suddenly she turned her head downwards and to the side - a bit f