Darkness Born

By Joseph Sweet

We all have a fear of the dark, whether we admit it or not. It's as though we can sense the legions of unspeakable terrors, lurking there just beyond the shadows, clawing and tearing at the thin veil between our worlds.
They wish to cross over and take our world as their own, but what would happen if they succeeded?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Joseph Sweet
• Release date: Jun 27, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301737666

Joseph Sweet

Joseph Sweet was born October 31 1976, and has been writing seriously since the age of sixteen. He currently lives in the upstate NY community of Watertown. Aside from writing he plays guitar and keyboard, writes and sings his own songs, and is an amateur photographer. He has worked in Television and radio doing voices and making and editing commercials, played in several bands, and acted in theater, but his greatest passion is and always has been his writing.

Book preview

Table of Contents

Darkness born | by Joseph Sweet

Darkness born

by Joseph Sweet

––––––––

Smashwords Edition

*****

PUBLISHED BY

Joseph P. Sweet and Forsaken Press

Copyright © 2011-2013 Forsaken Press and Joseph P. Sweet. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form, electronic or mechanical, including but not limited to photocopying, or internet posting without written permission from Forsaken Press, or the Author, except for review purposes, or that deemed fit by the author for promotion. All persons, places, and organizations mentioned herein, except those clearly in public domain, are fictitious. Any similarities to any persons, places, or organizations, living, dead, undead, or otherwise, is purely Coincidental.

Forsaken Press

http://www.forsakenpress.co.nr

[e-mail]

––––––––

This story is recommended for ages 18 and up.

*****

––––––––

Crystal ran as hard as she could on rubbery legs. Her whole body, in fact, felt old and used up. Every muscle felt about to give out on her, but she knew that she couldn't let it. That thing was right behind her.

Crystal. A thin, papery hiss of a voice like knives dragged across cement, called out to her from up ahead.

She stopped, uncertain of what she could do. She could no longer hear it running behind her. If you could call what it did running, that was. It was more like scampering. It moved on four legs, but it had eight. All of them had insect-like claws at the end. They could stand like humans, attaining a humanoid pose if they chose to, but they were nothing like us at all; completely alien. Their initial insect-like appearance, also, - slimy with hard, sectioned exoskeletons - was nothing compared to the tentacle bearing mess they became later, when they were in the mood to breed. A convulsive shiver ran through her at the thought of them. She didn't think she could possibly have imagined these creatures on her own, and that lent credibility to the idea that she couldn't possibly be dreaming.

When they'd overrun the camp, her biggest fear had been being eviscerated and eaten, and not necessarily in that order. What had actually transpired had been beyond even her wildest, most terrifying nightmares. Many times over now, she'd found herself wishing for what she'd initially feared.

She thought back to that event. After dark they had come tumbling up and outward from every available shadow. Not from amongst the trees as you might have expected. One second everything had been fine, minutes from sundown, and then without warning, the thin, insubstantial shafts of darkness cast by failing sun light began to vomit up the vilest creatures imaginable. They had been everywhere in seconds; the spiders, the giant eight-legged things that were chasing her now, and the other ones - the flying ones. There had been nowhere to go, and as she had cowered next to the tent, one particularly weak shaft of shadow had produced much-too-large centipede-like creatures as though it were some great dark pit and not a harmless, weak, nearly non-existent piece of shade.

Crystal. This time it came from her left; seemingly just a few feet away, through the trees. The fog was dense this early in the morning and not much could be made out. Even on the most normal of mornings, the most untroubled mind could make scary shapes from the coalescing of shadow, mist and tentative shafts of early morning light which managed to cut through the tops of the