Cassidy - The Dark

The Dark

David C. Cassidy

Published by David C. Cassidy at Smashwords

By David C. Cassidy

The Dark

IBPA Award Winner In Horror Fiction

Readers Favorite

Award Winner In Horror Fiction

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The Dark is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the authors imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Names of real public persons, living or dead, and news headlines that include and/or reference the names of actual newspapers are used for fictive purposes only.

Copyright 2014 by David C. Cassidy

All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This work may not be copied or redistributed without the sole written consent of the author.

Our dead are never dead to us, until we have forgotten them.

George Eliot

The boy was there when his father died.

And now, Kelan Lisk was there again.

It was maddening, his soul chained to that same dark dream. No matter how harshly he screamed, how badly he wet the bed, he could never hope to wake himself in time; could never stop what would be. What had been.

What if it gets out? the five-year-old said, buckling in. He risked a glance over his shoulder, and his pulse sprinted. His hands grew clammy; the soft hairs on his neck stood on end. Suddenly the front seat wasnt nearly far enough removed from the cardboard box that sat behind him.

He closed his eyes and wished so hard that his ears popped. When he opened them, one first then the other, the thing was still therethe thing inside the box was still there. At least he hadnt agreed to carry it to the car. He hadnt completely lost his mind, even in a dream.

Paul Lisk unzipped his red winter jacket. He turned to his son and handed him that cozy, reassuring smile that always seemed to work. Only when he saw that Kelan had settled did he pull the gray Taurus out of the parking lot of Childrens Hospital.

Well? Kelan said, pushing his black-rimmed glasses up. He could still see the box in the corner of his eye.

Relax, Kay. Weve got a long drive. It wont get out.

The car stopped at a stop sign, that of course had the O spray-painted into a happy-face. It always did.

Paul Lisk pointed. See? Thats a good omen.

Omen? Kelan echoed, wondering why he had asked yet again. He could scream the reply, and when his father uttered those dreaded wordsAn omens a sign, son, a sign that somethings going to happenhe wondered if it was possible to grab hold of a dream and make things happen the way you wanted. He wanted so not to ask the next question, but he did. Again, he did. Are there bad omens?

Some, Paul told him. But not this one.

Kelan prayed. Prayed that just this once he would wake up in time. The thing was, there was no time. No time.

Kaaaay, Paul said. Remember what we talked about?

Kelan shrank in his seat. He sighed. Be a brave soldier.

He wanted to say something more, but he didnt. There just wasnt time. His father would be dead in six hours, and in his dream, it would seem like six minutes.

~

They took I-35 out of Saint Paul, the landscape spreading from urban sprawl into featureless plain. The fine weather held until Duluth, quickly turning as it often does in North Country, and they stopped for hot chocolate at a roadside diner until the snowsqualls passed. An hour later, driving through the rugged backcountry of the Mesabi Iron Range, they finally turned due north toward home, the mining town of Key Corners.

Boundless forest swallowed them, the route narrowed to an old gray road split by thin whispers of yellow paint. Nightfall had come, and snow began to strike the windshield in magnificent flakes, splattering like moths and dribbling along the glass like clear blood.

Paul Lisk set the wipers and adjusted their timing. He tousled Kelans hair. Looks like well be a little late for dinner, Soldier. Got a name for him yet?

How bout Squash?

Kelan

Kelan leaned just enough to see behind the seat. The box was only slightly larger than a toaster, yet to him it seemed to fill the entire rear of the vehicle. Wide open, it sat with its flimsy flaps taped straight up, as if that were sufficient to encage the horrible creature that lurked within its cardboard walls. Why had he agreed to this in the first place? Why couldnt he just pee and wake up?

The doctor in Saint Paul, a dark-skinned man with an accent he had never heard before, had asked his father if he might try it. Hadnt asked him, but his dad, as if he was the one to endure the nightmares. At first his father had refused (wisely, Kelan thought), but the doctor had reassured him that he had seen this approach work with other children, even some adults (although adults often seemed to be more fearful than the children, the doctor had joked), and that there really was no danger.

No danger to the doctor, that was.

Kelan craned his neck for a closer look. He didnt really want to see the thing, but it was better knowing where it was, knowing it was still trapped and not running around where he couldnt see it. It was always better when he knew.

Sit back in your seat, son.

I just wanna look. Kelan could see the top of the jar now, a dozen tiny holes dotting it. He rose a little higher, high enough to see the glass. The nape of his neck tingled. Where is it? I dont see it!

Paul glanced in the rear-view mirror. Its there. It didnt get out.

It could have crawled out one of those air holes.

Dont be silly. Theyre tiny.

Kelan didnt buy it. Each hole seemed as wide as the fist he would use to crush the thing should it escape. You sure, Dad?

Im sure.

What about the lid? What if its loose?

Double-checked it before I put it in the car.

For sure?

For sure. Be brave.

Be brave, Kelan thought. What choice do I have?

The vehicle rolled over a bump, and the box jostled. Kelan nearly screamed. He thought he had seen it. A stubby wedge of wood inside the container had shifted up the glass, its tip suddenly a half-inch from the lid, a mere step from those impossibly widening holes.

The Taurus slowed as the road carved a sharp curve. The wood shifted higher still, and only when it settled did Kelans heart slip back in his chest. He turned around in his seat and did his best not to squirm. Dad?

Hmmm?

Can we build that snowman when we get back?

Sure can.

Just you and me, right? Its my first one, and I dont want Eric to help.

Just you and me. Promise. Paul Lisk regarded the growing storm. See those flakes? Perfect for making a snowman.

A big one?

Bigger than the house.

Really?

Well, maybe not that big. But bigger than me.

Paul smiled warmly and Kelan smiled back. He always did.

~

Time passed. Kelans mind began to drown within that endless sea of snow, and he drifted off, to dream within the dream. His eyelids had just dropped shut when the car hit some black ice and skidded onto the shoulder.

Dad!

The vehicle rocked as his father negotiated the car from gravel to pavement. You okay, Soldier?

Kelan nodded. He checked their cargo, and his heart pounded.