Chapter 1: In which Strange Talk is Heard

by Caleb R. Thoburn, Grade 6

The man slowly walked through fog so dense and black that it seemed an evil, cold blanket. The night was quiet; not even the crickets sang their sweet lullaby. He walked so slowly, he seemed to threaten everything. The mean eyes he wore pierced all as they traveled through the gloomy night. Even the moon seemed to shun him. Coolly, he walked down the pitch black street and up to the porch of 381 Venus Street. His menacing steps echoed off the walls. Opening the door at the end of the hall, he strode in.

"Who are you? a quaking voice asked.
 "You know who I am, Geoffrey," the man replied. "And you know what I can do," he said as he pointed his cane at Geoffrey. The cane was smooth with a jet black stone at the end. Geoffrey said nothing but instead watched the end of the man's cane. "Where is it?" the man asked.
"I don't know," Geoffrey said.
"Where is it?" the man asked again. Geoffrey said nothing. The man's anger began to build. "Where is it?" the man repeated, a little fiercer this time.
"I never had it."
 Kicking the table, the man shouted furiously, "You lie!"
Geoffrey flinched as the table flew across the room. Geoffrey knew what happened next; the man raised the cane, and CRACK!

James woke with a start, shaking with fear. Many nights he woke sweating, trying to rid his memory of the many horrible murders all committed by the same sinister man with the dark cane, always raising it just before James awoke. He always seemed to feel as if he had some connection with the people who were killed.

Pushing his warm comforter aside, he walked from his bed to the bathroom, dragging his hand along the peeling, green and white striped wallpaper. Flicking the handle to open the door, he sang quietly to himself. He filled his cup and gulped it down in an instant. James tripped over some oddment that his younger sister had left out as he walked from the bathroom. He winced as his skinny torso made contact with a small red Lego car on the floor which he had "forgotten" to pick up. He began to get up, then stopped.

"He's too young," his mother said.
"It's now or never," his father replied.
Tip-toeing over to his parents' room, James made sure not to step on any of the many creaky floorboards.
"That's not what the prophet foretold," his mother said.
James crept closer, being careful not to lean upon the door which hung on one hinge.
"The old prophet said when James is expectantly listening . . . "

James's mother didn't finish her sentence, for James, who had been caught by surprise by his mother's words, fell onto the old red door. It gave way with a crash and a cloud of dust.

When the dust cleared, his father raised his eyes and said, "This settles it." James's mother began to cry.

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