Guardian of Nightmares: Secretion
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About this ebook
Unknown to his friends, Joseph Alejo, born with an inexplicable power, has come home to reveal his parents murderer and to face the reason. With warning from Joseph, his friends should have stayed away from him that night, now together they have to survive and face the reason, and the murderer, together. The deeper into the night they go, their fears increasing and challenging each other, their friendships are tested and mystery will chase them beyond their world.
Daniel J Whittaker
My name is Daniel. "A Night to Remember" is my first publication, and I'm very excited, and I have more on the way. Reading, and even movies, have always been a part of my life, so it isn't unexpected that I love to write. Writing for me comes from my experiences, but also from my active imagination. Life has had many ups and downs for me. I was born with blockage in my throat, causing severe obstructive sleep apnea. When I was 18 I received a Tracheotomy to go around the blockage. So the concept of sleep, dreams, and even the ways of fear have seeped into my subconscious. I just hope to not only encourage, but also to entertain people with what I write.
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Guardian of Nightmares - Daniel J Whittaker
GUARDIAN OF NIGHTMARES:
SECRETION
By Daniel Whittaker
Copyright 2016 Daniel J Whittaker
Smashwords Edition
Discover other titles by Daniel J Whittaker at Smashwords.com
A Night To Remember - http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/168859
License Notes
This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Dedicated to:
Sean
5/16/1984 ~ 1/11/2011
Prologue:
Eight year old Joseph steadily stared into the bathroom mirror, his feet dangling over the edge of the counter. Dirt crusted the bottom of his feet, revealing several hours of play in the warm dirt and summer sun. He could hear his parents speak their native Spanish in the other room. Joseph didn’t bother translating, he already knew what they were discussing, him. However he did not have time to worry about that, he had a record to break.
His eyes blinked, and his thumb hit the stopwatch; he sighed and recorded his times. He picked up the pencil and wrote down his new time.
Thirty-two seconds.
Joseph said, blinking a couple more times to wet his eyes and tapped his pencil against his nose, a rap on the bathroom door disturbed his concentration.
Joseph!
His papa’s deep Mexican accent scratched in his ears. Quit screwing around again! Get out here so your mama and I can talk to you.
He slid off the counter and unlocked the door. Almost forgetting his materials, he swung the door open as he grabbed his notepad and walked swiftly though the opening door. He swung himself around the corner, smudging his dirty fingers against the off-white colored wall. His parents watched him closely and motioned for him to sit down in the brown chair across from them. Joseph felt a couple of springs through the thin worn material. He rocked side to side, looking at the smooth couch his papa and mama sat on, but they seemed to not enjoy the couch as much as he would.
Joseph, the priest is coming soon.
His father gently said.
You must do what he tells you to do, go where he goes.
His mother followed. Joseph tilted his head to the right.
What do you mean go?
He asked.
Only for a little while,
his mother said, resting her hands on her knees, trying to reassure herself more than him. The... trouble that you have,
her voice choked, but she pushed through, been having… has caused us a lot of pain; we don’t know what to do.
She tried desperately to look him in the eyes, but all she could do was stare across the top of his head.
You can’t study.
His father piped up. Your friends, wherever they are now, they all think you’re loco.
Joseph looked over at the front door. He recognized the yellow suitcase that stood at attention next to the door and saw a figure move through the window panes of the door. He recognized the hat the priest wore on Sunday, or any day of the week for that matter. Joseph was no fool. He heard the doorbell ring and ran toward the stairs; his father reached out and grabbed him as he began his ascent. His mother ran for the door to let the Priest in.
No!
Joseph screamed.
Get his bags Padré!
Joseph’s father shouted as he wrapped his arms around him and held him closely. He could hear his mother crying.
Mama! Help me!
He took a glance at her. Her back turned to him, her face in her hands.
We cannot help you, I’m sorry my son.
His father said, trying to hold back tears. He carried him out of the house and into the waiting taxi where Padré Miguel waited with open arms to hold him. His father closed the door and ran inside, locking the door behind him.
Padré Miguel said, Drive.
Joseph sat in the arms of priest feeling helpless, knowing there was not much for him to do.
Padré Miguel reached across him, locking the door to the yellow cab and slowly released him; Joseph glanced at his left hand as he withdrew it, a missing pinky. Joseph looked out the window at the passing trees. He imagined the car was on one of those machines that just made the wheels turn while the same scenery passed by the window on a conveyor belt. He waited for his quarter to end but the same scene kept passing him. Sighing he looked over at Padré Miguel sitting posed with his folded hands resting on his lap. His garb neatly pressed, not a wrinkle in them. His chin was set, some thought of him as a stern man, but his eyes gave him away too easily.
Does God press your clothes?
Excuse me?
Padré replied.
Does God press your clothes? You don’t have any wrinkles.
Padré Miguel smiled at him and squeezed his hands. Joseph looked back out the window.
We are going to the airport, Joseph.
The child looked back at him with surprise. Going to another place where you can learn and grow. How does that sound to you?
Why can’t I just be a kid?
Padré Miguel chuckled at himself.
You can do that too.
He looked closer and met Joseph’s eyes. But you must know what you can do. I would be excommunicated if the Church found out I was going to help you.
Joseph looked back out the window.
Do you know what I am talking about young man?
Joseph nodded his head. Good.
Trees past and the driver turned a few corners, their destination in sight.
Joseph asked, Where are we going?
Padré Miguel looked over at him and widened his eyes.
Tibet.
He looked closer at the small child. Do you know why you are leaving with me?
Joseph nodded his head. Tears welled up from his eyes. Padré Miguel wrapped his arm around little Joseph and held him tightly. I’m here to help you, okay?
Joseph nodded his head. Okay.
2 Days Earlier:
Dusk settled on the small neighborhood like a soft blanket of snow on a brisk winters night. Two friends separated by a few miles across town, were now holding themselves in a small room playing a board game they both enjoyed.
Are you hungry?
They turned to look at Joseph’s mother standing in the doorway. She had brought up some macaroni and cheese they had earlier. Here, you need energy to play that thing, and don’t be too loud.
They smiled and laid the plate between them.
Joseph was happy that night, his friends dwindled slowly, Samuel being the last one. Having his best friend that night, kept his mind at ease. His mother leaned up against the wall outside his room for a few minutes to watch them, in her hand a crucifix dangled. She smiled and left them on their own.
Samuel smiled and stood up to turn on the light as the night came dawning. As he switched on the light in the room, the hallway light shut off.
Hello?!
Samuel called out.
Where are Joseph’s parents? He thought.
Turning around and looking at his friend, suddenly finding a quiver in his voice, it rose just above a whisper.
Joseph?
His friend curled out on the floor, twitching. Coughing several times, a black fog emitted from his mouth. It slowly skirted along the floor, up towards the window, blocking out the moonlight, then proceeded towards the ceiling, blocking the light.
Samuel’s breathing became heavier. He slowly backed out of the dark room. An eerie womanly voice echoed from the fog.
Samuel.
It was soft and gentle, but caused a cold shiver to rise from the base of his spine to the back of his skull. Samuel. I need you badly.
He looked around quickly, trying to find some signs of light around him, not even the downstairs lights were on, but he saw a closet at the end of the hall, its door wide open and the light on like a beacon of hope.
He bolted for it, grabbed the knob and slammed it shut, his knuckles white with frightened grip. Samuel took a deep breath and held it, listening intently. A soft breeze brushed his ear, his grip tightened.
Slowly two hands formed in front of him and caressed his face.
I’ve missed you.
He heard the words whispered in his ear. Suddenly a face appeared in front of him, forming a mix of a beautiful woman with black eyes. Her red tinted lips began to open like old sores. The lights went out. His scream echoed throughout the house.
Samuel!
He heard his name called out by a man’s voice. Let go of the knob! Let go! Samuel!
His screamed continued as he took his hands off and began to swing wildly into the air. He slammed himself against the door, falling out into the arms of Joseph’s father. His screams bellowed in the fading darkness that was in the house.
CHAPTER 1-Hidden Rumors
16 years later:
The house was