Prologue


The Bennington triangle. Deriving its name from the Bermuda triangle, this town in Vermont became the origin of multiple mysteries related to the disappearances of its inhabitants. Between 1920 and 1950, unexplained disappearances began occuring, some of which are truly bizarre.
December 1st, 1946: Paula Jean Welden went on a day-long hike on Long Trail between Vermont State Route 9, a few miles east of Bennington, and Glastenbury Mountain. She was never seen or heard from again.
December 1st, 1949: James Tetford was on his way home from a vacation, on a crowded bus. The occupants of the bus stated they had seen him with his luggage, but upon arrival at the station, he had vanished. No trace of him was left, save for the luggage he had brought with him.
In 1950, the disappearances ceased...








Introduction


The town his wife had chosen to move to was a quiet town, small, save for the giant shopping center on 22nd street. During the winter (hell, even during the fall), everyone flocked there to do their Christmas shopping. Today though, Adam wasn't going there for Christmas shopping, he'd already finished that by October. He knew how the "big guys" jacked the prices up on everything by early November, and then tried to pawn it off as being discounted. Total bullshit is what it was, he thought, but still, every November and December he'd see people jumping at the chance to "save" on their Christmas shopping.
No. Today he was out for your average everyday shopping. Maria was out of luncheon meats and there wasn't any creamer left in the household. Adam needed his coffee, and he needed it well creamed. Black wasn't an option to him. His son was equally picky about the food he brought to school, and if there wasn't mock chicken in his sandwich, he'd skip lunch and raid the goodie drawer after school. After that, there was no point making supper for him. He wouldn't eat it.
"Maybe if Maria didn't spoil him all the time," Adam said out loud, "then he'd stop being so picky." Of course, that wasn't quite fair, considering how Adam was with his creamer.
He pulled onto 22nd street, reached into his pocket, and pulled out a pack of Players cigarettes. His father was a truck driver and would buy cartons of them when he ran up to Toronto, running loads between New York and Toronto. Adam knew smoking wasn't good for him, but after fifteen years of it, it was hard to quit. Besides, he never smoked at home, and by God, that was hard enough to do. He fished out a lighter out of his side pocket and lit the cigerette. That first puff was heaven. He blew the thick smoke out in one long gust and tossed the lighter on the passenger seat beside him. The pack of smokes was in his lap, and he threw that on the passenger side seat as well. He pulled into the shopping center (after all, better selection, right?) and found there were no parking spaces. In fact, the place was jammed.
"For fucks sakes..." he muttered. This was going to be an exercise in fultility. He should have known it'd be packed. Christmas shoppers flooding the entrance of the center made the parking lot look like a clusterfuck.
An old lady to his right was just starting to get into her car. Alright, he thought. Looks like I'm waiting on an old lady. might have to pick up razors for the beard I'll have by the time she gets out. He stifled a chuckle and inhaled another puff of his smoke, waiting for granny to muster the strength to put the car in reverse. She finally did, and with the speed of a turtle, slowly reversed out of the space. Adam pulled right in after her, and got some rude honking in return from another parking space camper. First come, first served Mr. Honksalot. Adam thought. He chuckled again and let it out this time. He figured he was in no rush. Maria was at home, no doubt watching another one of her soaps again, and Joey wasn't supposed to be home from school for another hour yet. He leaned back in the seat, stretched, and turned the engine off. He kept the radio on, and turned the station to X-Rock 106.9. He adjusted the volume, got comfy, and took another drag of his cigarette.
"-re coming up quick, but right now, we're gonna throw on some Evanescence for you. Stay tuned for weather reports at two."
Adam nestled into his seat and smoked his cigarette. He liked some of the new age music, but he was an oldies man when it came to rock. What the hell. he thought.

"Please, please forgive me,
But I won’t be home again.
Maybe someday you’ll have woke up,
And, barely conscious, you’ll say to no one,
"Isn’t something missing?"

The day was December 1st, 2008.






I am planning to finish this by late 2009, early 2010. The entire story is set out, and it is going to be strongly influenced by Stephen King. Any input would be welcomed and appreciated as well

The Flash and The Grungelands

He finished his smoke and opened the door of the car, which obeyed with a rusty squeal. Goddamn car. If still ran good, considering it was a 1988 Cutlass Cierra Oldsmobile. Only problem was the damn drivers door squawking like a wounded bird. Get it fixed up one day Adam. You've been promising to replace the door for almost four years now. He stopped. Had it been that long since he had walked into the used car shop, the smell of pine strong and damp in the air (wasn't it always in car shops?) and drove out with the feel of a giddy boy?
God, that had been a long time ago. He closed the door with a another of those seagull squawks and started in towards the shopping center, reaching into his left pants pocket for the grocery list. He already knew that there was only creamer and luncheon meats on that list, but hell, by the time you were engaged to a woman, you had learned to check the list, and check it twice, and then for good measure, you checked it once more just for shits and giggles. He confirmed what he already knew was there and stuffed it back into his pocket. He looked up and continued, and then it hit him.
This place was two things. First of all, it was crammed. Now, he had known it'd be busy, but this place was completely jammed. Quite literally there were people shoulder to shoulder entering the center, and if that wasn't bad enough, some were trying to pull the old "whoops, was that the exit we walked in through?" routine. Of course, he had noticed it was busy when he had drove in, and that was a slight shock to see just how busy it was. There was also another thing he couldn't quite put a finger on. What exactly was with this place? He continued on, and it hit him like a brick dropped off so many stories, falling into place with exact brutality.
When he was eleven, he had lived with his mother in California. He never knew his father, probably ran out after his mom came home with that face that says everything with a simple look. He had very few friends, mainly because he was different in a way. He didn't know how, but he knew it was there. Something. He knew before a football game was over what the final score would be. Not the winner, mind you. Just the score. Flashes (he called them that) would occur randomly in random situations. No logic to it. He couldn't channel it, and had he ever tried. Long afternoons at home focusing on the television, lottery tickets, anything to try and spark the Flash. Nothing worked. Random is what it was. They always occurred in strange ways, as well. Like some kind of mini game or puzzle. When he was thirteen, he had a Flash while watching The Godfather, Part II. It came to him as a ring game. He closed his eyes and saw the pole that had been driven into the living room floor. His mind looked down at his hand, no, his mind-hand, and saw it was holding a ring. Quite heavy, he had thought. How he knew it was heavy, he didn't know. He knew it was, though. He sent that ring flying up, gracefully, and saw it land with perfect precision right around that pole. He heard the ting of metal against metal. He remembered that for awhile to come. He had heard the ting. As soon as the ring had hit the floor, circling the pole, he knew it all. He saw Fredo in the fishing boat, he saw the pistol, he saw Michael ordering it. He saw it all at once, like trying to cram a watermelon through the eye of a needle.
By fourteen, he had a Flash twice in that year. By sixteen, it was gone. Like a fire burning down to its last embers. Thirteen years had passed, and not a single Flash had happened. By now, he thought he had dreamed the whole thing.
Today, he knew that he did not. He caught it out of the corner of his eye, a thin line almost looking like lightning leading right into the center. It looked like fishing line injected with white fuorescent light. Too far up to touch with his bare hands, and he was quite sure even if he could reach it, his hands would pass through it like the stuff out of staple ghost stories. No, he could reach it, but he'd have to use something else. He closed his eyes and pictured where the line was. He saw himself standing there, the parking lot a harsh grey on the sunny blue backdrop, but it wasn't him standing there. It was his mind. His mind could touch it, and he knew this. He pictured his mind reaching up with that mind-hand, stretching the arm and jumping ten feet in the air because, after all, a mind is a powerful thing. Wrapping that mind-hand around the line. Closing around it.
What happened next would be the basis of the police investigation to follow, based on witness reports claiming Adam had lost his mind.
Adam saw his mind grip the line, very clearly. He didn't know what to expect, but what came out horrified him.
"-cking around with me. There is no Adam! He's dead, do you hear me? He is fucking dead! Fuck you and fuck your mind games you prick!"
It ended as soon as it begun, and Adam covered his mouth with both hands, fearing more might come out, knowing it wouldn't. Those words he had said himself, knowing what they were before saying them, but the urge, the fucking knowing he had to say them, had to, was too powerful. Everyone was looking at him, wide mouthed, expecting some type of show. Adam's lost his rocker, let's watch him spasm on the ground. Adams gone bonkers, look, he thinks he's Jesus. Adams crazy, he's singing Guys and Dolls.
Adam turned right around and half walked, half ran to his car. Fuck the creamer, fuck the luncheon meats, I just want to be anywhere but here.



I'll post more when I have it planned out and available. At this time there are a lot of questions I have been asking myself. I know the answers, but I don't know them at the same time. It's an odd feeling, to write down something, read it, and think "that's seriously what just happened?" At this point, here are some of the questions I've written down to ask myself. They'll be answered when the right time comes, of that I'm sure.

Why does he hate his father? he never knew him, or did he?
He did, but blocked the memory out after some event. What event?
When does he reveal this?
Adam has a sort of telekinesis. Cannot channel it. Yet. Random. Using his mind. Has something to do with event with Father? IS there an event?

This post was edited by shadowman1 on Jul 1 2008 03:00pm

Let me know guys

read half of the intro.

Above decent, but not my "cup of tea" at the moment.