My New Books Almost out!

[Kryso]

My second book, World One of the Gateway Series, THE TEMPLE OF THE SKY. Close the World. Enter the Next will be coming out soon. If any of my UM friends, or absolutely anyone wants a review, and letter sent to them notifying them of the release date from my publisher, please PM me, with your address. This will be kept in complete and utmost confidence.

Here’s a foretaste below of the books synopsis and chapter one, (all unedited by the publisher because this is the original version. The printed book version will be slightly different).

Book Synopsis:

Long, long ago entities with god-like powers brought together seven worlds, joined them by means of conduits - Gateways. Each supplying the next with what it lacked, from a surplus of what that world produced; making life on all seven worlds possible. Then they disappeared. Each world became an individual. Two brothers stumble on the Gateway passing from our world to the next, and are endowed with powers beyond comprehension, vital for survival in this hostile and intelligent world; where nightmarish creatures feed on the weak. Titanic battles rage; good against evil, magic against machinery, mortal against immortal. A civil war rages between spirit creatures and a powerful self-proclaimed God. Why is the American Government sending an army of mass destruction, with the latest military technology, through? Time is short, the armies are amassing. And what’s the prophecy about, scratched on a wall of a prison cell by dying hands?

The Beginning of the End

The darkness was doing nothing to improve his sullen mood; he could barely see his hand held up in front of his face, because the low-lying cloud was blocking out the little amount of light that the waxy moon was giving off.

But the lack of illumination didn't concern him, if anything he preferred the darkness, the comfort and false sense of protection and security that it gave. It was reassuring to him. He didn't want anyone to see what he was doing anyway. Not that there would be anyone this far out. But you could never be too careful, not in this place. If he had learned one thing with his time spent here, it was never to take anything for granted, never to relax, and never let down your vigilance. Not that this place ever gave you the chance to. But for now it was quiet, far too quiet.

He moved fast, swiftly. He knew what he had to do, knew it had to be done. He had gone over it in his mind, over and over like a twisted mantra. This was the only way he knew how to stop it, stop it from happening again to someone else; someone who wouldn’t be as strong as he was, someone who wouldn’t live as long as him. Not that you could call this living, this wasn't a life; life had meaning. In his distorted memory he knew he once had a purpose, but that had been long washed away by the fear of this place. It was that distant corroded memory that he know held onto.

His fingers were numb, but it wasn’t from the cold, because it wasn’t cold. The low-lying cloud was holding all the heat in, making it stuffy, clammy. It was because of the task that lay ahead that made him numb. The size of the task he was undertaking. He knew the risks, knew he wouldn’t be around to see the sun rise in the morning. Not that you could see the sun here, there was always a thick blanket of clouds over the sky. It was never completely light, never completely dark. It was like a kind of dull colorless light, as if the light had to pass through a dirty cloth. But tonight was different as if it knew what he was about to do, and was teasing him to try.

He could see it in front of him now, in the clearing.

It was an awe inspiring sight, one born of nightmares. A towering mound of earth had been raised, with a huge wrought iron bowl wedged on top; this had an orangey-gray substance pouring from its circumference that mingled with the ever shifting sky. The gateway itself was a smooth pewter surface that was surrounded with carved images; two fear inspiring guardians, also fashioned from blacken metal, which encompassed the gateway, the two dragons’ heads almost touching with a strange golden emblem wedge between them: their tall skeletal bodies creating the gateways arch.

All about, in the clearing that led to the woods, lay broken bones and scattered skulls; offerings once made to the gateway, a testament to the cruelty and barbarity that the gateway inspires. Long bending poles are dotted about here and there holding colorful banners and strange flags, twisting and flapping in the seemingly stagnant air. Also towering standing stones make a circle around the gateway, mere feet away from the woods, these having strange cipher and symbols etched on them. They stand like huge protective sentinels; akin to the style and shape of Stonehenge.

The area gave off a strange unnatural light. A light that seemed to seep out of the very ground itself. It glowed with confidence, and if it didn’t sound too strange he would swear it was watching him, waiting for him. He half expected the dragons’ metal heads to turn to look in his direction.

He knew even with the task ahead he could do it if he had hope. But then this place always had hope; it put it there before you, just before it snatched it away; along with you life.

He took a quick look behind him but saw nothing, but then again you never did, not before it was to late. Slowly he made his way towards it. He tried not to make any noise. He’d learned how to tread silently when he first arrived in this place. If you made a noise - any noise - it would be your last. He had been lucky the first time he had only attracted a small predator. It took him many days to heal and in all that time he had been vulnerable, an easy target. He had learned his lesson then, and he didn't want to repeat that same painful mistake now.

Crawling at a snails pace, he made his way to the edge of the clearing and stopped still - dead still. He used one of the tall standing stone to conceal his body.

Fearing that even the sound of his breath would give him away, he held it. The sound of his heart beating was deafening in his ears, he would swear they could hear it. He had to calm down, take control. He knew if he panicked he would die. Logic saved him; he knew that if they had seen him they would have been making their way towards him by now.

He also knew he had called them to protect it. He had brought them from somewhere else to stand guard. They stood almost as tall as him. But they were built for speed. They had powerful legs, with which they could run faster than him. You could only hope they would tire before you. They could run fast but only for a short burst. Their arms were longer than seemed practical, but they could drop down and run on all fours. The main thing that drew your attention was the tail; long and sleek - powerful. They could break a man’s back in one vicious sweep. If that didn't work then the barbed claw on the end would. They never killed outright; they feed on your fear, your pain and your tears. They would let you heal yourself and then they would come back to where you lay and start over again. They don't kill for food -not many things in this place do - but they do it for pleasure and simply because they can.

The mist rolled over their sleek bodies, taught skin, clawed hands. They looked around the clearing with their small but sharp eyes; with a strange orange glow that seemed to make your legs want to give out from under your own weight. It was rare to see so many in one place. They had their own family groups, which hunted together, but never in this number, because even these creatures are in the food chain here. Another strange thing was they were all male. Normally any two would fight among themselves. But here coming in from the forest directly ahead was maybe eight or nine, possibly more still hidden behind the trees thick foliage directly opposite.

They carried weapons in their hands. Some had the long spears that they could throw with uncanny precision. Never a death throw, always hitting their victims in the calf on the back of the legs making them fall, so they could slowly finish them off. Others carried weapons of their choice. They used the skin of other animals to cover themselves. In the scheme of things in this place they were above average intelligence. But he doesn’t want them to cleaver, he needs to control them, use them like he uses everything else.

That’s why he hates our kind, can't stand us being here. We think for ourselves and that is one thing he will not allow, cannot allow. Because in the moment things start thinking for themselves he loses all control over them. If only he would let us leave, stop others from coming through. But no they still come, will always come not knowing what awaits them. Not being able to stop themselves: coming in search of something. For everyone it's something different. He can’t remember his reasons many don't, after they have been here for sometime. That's if they live that long.

That's why he's trying to stop this evil. Stop it before more arrive. It's been many weeks now since the last came through, which is longer than normal. That’s why he is here now to see, to try and change the course of things. Not that many haven't tried before him, many have. None have returned; their bones crunch under his tattered boots. If he doesn’t succeed then at least it will be over for him. It's those he leaves behind that he feels sorry for.

Movement to his left catches his attention. Maybe it was the wind? Maybe it was just a small animal? Then another movement. Was it simply a banner flapping, catching his eyes attention? He then realizes that they weren't hiding in the trees behind the others, but rather they were circling around to where he was, using the stones and the gateway to block themselves from view. It's too late for him now. In one swift movement he's knocked hard to the ground. There’s a flash of tearing pink skin, a spray of warm crimson blood, a cracking of bones and ripping of sinew. For him it will soon be all over, after they’ve had their fun.

The others like him stay well in the background. He was the one who wanted to try. It had been his idea. Wasn't it?

Now quietly they start to move back in to the cover of the darkness. They try to get as far away from this place as possible. Not just because of the fear it leaks, but because they could hear his blood curdling screams. Even though it was getting weak it would go on for sometime, until he could scream no more. Then they would let him heal and start over again. If he was lucky they would bore of their game and kill him quickly. That’s if he is lucky.

He had known he was coming, he always knows when they are about to try; always offering them hope. This one had failed, they always do. He enjoys seeing them try, letting them get so far, and then taking that hope away. Fear; fear is what makes him so powerful.

But he knows there’s one thing he has no control over, and that is love. Yes they banded together but that was out of need. The more of you there are the less chance it would be you who was next; they are like a large shoal of fish. There is no love between them here. They are afraid to love because the moment you start loving someone, something, is the moment that it gets taken away from you. Love was just another word. What's in a word? They have many words here. Like friend, friend is used in the same context as the word death. It came as a friend because it gave you release.

But he knew that the one thing he could not fight against was about to come through. Enter into his world. It was the one thing that he had no control over. And now that thing was about to enter through the Gateway.

Copyrighted by Glen Johnson 2004

Edited December 28, 2004 by Kryso

[QueenoftheNight]

Yay! I am gonna get those books. I love reading and this sounds interesting

[ABOTU]

Sound really good. Probably a book I can't put down:)

[TooFarGone]

Wicked. You are very lucky to have such a talent for writing.

[Canadian Rottweiler]

Good work

[Kryso]

Thanks QueenoftheNight, A Believer of the Unexplained, jeremy_rumbolt and Canadian Rottweiler...

[Kat_Kloud]

Close the World. Enter the Next

Have you seen Serial Experiments Lain?

[Kryso]

Close the World. Enter the Next

Have you seen Serial Experiments Lain?

429018[/snapback]

No! Why?

[Kat_Kloud]

It says "Close one world, enter the next" on every episode cover. Heh. But it has to do with the wired world and the real world, so no worries. Lol

[Kryso]

Lol, that was lucky, just checked it out. Its saying is - Close the World. Open the Next. Mine has a slight change in word play. What are the chances of that?

[Kryso]

Hi everyone. I re-edited the first chapter, before sending it to my publisher. It has some major changes to the character - see what you think...

1

The Beginning of the End

The darkness was doing nothing to improve Takahashi Morio’s sullen mood; he could barely see his dirty callused hand held up in front of his face, because the low-lying cloud was blocking out the little amount of light that the waxy moon was giving off.

His dark Asian eyes roamed back and forth, calculating the best route to head off in; it was a little more difficult to see the towering columns of smoke when darkness closed in.

But the lack of illumination didn't concern Takahashi, if anything he preferred the darkness, the comfort and false sense of protection and security that it gave. It was reassuring to him. He didn't want anyone to see what he was doing anyway. Not that there would be anyone this far out. But you could never be too careful, not in this place. If he had learned one thing with his time spent here, it was never to take anything for granted, never to relax, and never let down your vigilance. Not that this place ever gave you the chance to. But for now it was quiet, far too quiet.

He moved fast, swiftly, running at full pelt through the tangled thick undergrowth. Braches whipped and slashed at him; long thin cuts crisscrossed his dirty face and bare tanned arms. Brambles pulled and ripped at his clothing. His feet stumbled on roots and stones that were hidden deep on the moldy leaf covered ground.

He gave a half crazed laugh, because his first name Morio meant Forest Boy in Japanese. “How fitting,” he jeered as another sharp branch grazed his forehead.

Takahashi ran like a man possessed. As he ran he mumbled over and over a Japanese song he had learnt as a small child; it was sung by the Gods of Good Fortune as they sailed in their fine boat – The Ship of Riches: “It is a long night. The gods of luck sleep. They all open their eyes. They ride in a boat on the waves. The sound is pleasing.”

“Please,” he whispered. “Kaze-No-Kami, Great God of the Wind, let your wind be at my back.” He had seen many unexplainable things in his time here, and he reasoned if these things can happen, then the ancient Gods could really exist; because in this world a living Man God ruled, he had witnessed his awesome, dark powers firsthand.

Takahashi knew what he had to do; knew that it had to be done. He had gone over it in his mind, over and over like a twisted mantra that he had heard the orange robed monks mumble as they slowly use to walk the dusty street with their begging almsbowls. This was the only way he knew how to stop it, stop it from happening again to someone else; someone who wouldn’t be as strong as he was, someone who wouldn’t live as long as him. Not that you could call this living, this wasn't a life; life had meaning. In his distorted memory he knew he once had a purpose, but that had been long washed away by the fear of this place. It was that distant corroded memory that he know held onto.

Takahashi fingers were numb, but it wasn’t from the cold, because it wasn’t cold. The low-lying cloud was holding all the heat in, making it stuffy, clammy. It was because of the task that lay ahead that made him numb. The size of the task he was undertaking. He knew the risks, knew he wouldn’t be around to see the sun rise in the morning. Amaterasu; the Sun Goddess, would not look upon his face again. Not that you could see the sun here, there was always a thick blanket of clouds over the sky. It was never completely light, never completely dark. It was like a kind of dull colorless light, as if the light had to pass through a dirty cloth. But tonight was different as if it knew what he was about to do, and was teasing him to try.

“Emma-O, God of Death, Judge of the Dead and Lord of the Afterlife, please judge me well.” He had never used so many deities’ names in such a short space of time; he was afraid of forgetting and offending any of his peoples Gods – just incase.

Takahashi could see it in front of him now, in the clearing.

Once again he looked heavenwards and said a silent request to Tsuki-Yumi, the God of the Moon, so he could light the way.

It was an awe inspiring sight, one born of nightmares. A towering mound of earth had been raised, with a huge wrought iron bowl wedged on top; this had an orangey-gray substance pouring from its circumference that mingled with the ever shifting sky. The gateway itself was a smooth pewter surface that was surrounded with carved images; two fear inspiring guardians, also fashioned from blacken metal, which encompassed the gateway, the two dragons’ heads almost touching with a strange golden emblem wedge between them: their tall skeletal bodies creating the gateways arch.

“Uwibami,” he uttered in reverent awe. Uwibami was the name of the legendary dragon that would snatch men from their horse and devour them.

All about, in the clearing that led to the woods, lay broken bones and scattered skulls; offerings once made to the gateway, a testament to the cruelty and barbarity that the gateway inspires. Long bending poles are dotted about here and there holding colorful banners and strange flags, twisting and flapping in the seemingly stagnant air. Also towering standing stones make a circle around the gateway, mere feet away from the woods, these having strange cipher and symbols etched on them. They stand like huge protective sentinels; akin to the style and shape of Stonehenge; not that Takahashi had even been to Stonehenge, but he had seen pictures.

The area gave off a strange unnatural light. A light that seemed to seep out of the very ground itself, a light that mocked Tsuki-Yumi. The Gateway glowed with confidence, and if it didn’t sound too strange he would swear it was watching him, waiting for him. He half expected the dragons’ metal heads to turn to look in his direction.

He knew even with the task ahead he could do it if he had hope. But then this place always had hope; it put it there before you, just before it snatched it away; along with you life.

Takahashi took a quick look behind him but saw nothing, but then again you never did, not before it was to late. Slowly he made his way towards it. He tried not to make any noise. He’d learned how to tread silently when he first arrived in this place. If you made a noise - any noise - it would be your last. He had been lucky the first time he had only attracted a small predator. It took him many days to heal and in all that time he had been vulnerable, an easy target. He had learned his lesson then, and he didn't want to repeat that same painful mistake now.

Crawling at a snails pace, he made his way to the edge of the clearing and stopped still - dead still. He used one of the tall standing stone to conceal his body.

Fearing that even the sound of his breath would give him away, he held it. The sound of his heart beating was deafening in his ears, he would swear they could hear it. He had to calm down, take control. He knew if he panicked he would die. Logic saved him; he knew that if they had seen him they would have been making their way towards him by now.

Takahashi also knew the Evil One had called them to protect it. He had brought them from somewhere else to stand guard. They stood almost as tall as him. But they were built for speed. They had powerful legs, with which they could run faster than him. You could only hope they would tire before you. They could run fast but only for a short burst. Their arms were longer than seemed practical, but they could drop down and run on all fours. The main thing that drew your attention was the tail; long and sleek - powerful. They could break a man’s back in one vicious sweep. If that didn't work then the barbed claw on the end would. They never killed outright; they feed on your fear, your pain and your tears. They would let you heal yourself and then they would come back to where you lay and start over again. They don't kill for food -not many things in this place do - but they do it for pleasure and simply because they can.

The strange creatures brought to mind the name Gaki, the Japanese Demon God of Death.

The mist rolled over their sleek reptilian bodies, taught skin, clawed hands. They looked around the clearing with their small but sharp eyes; with a strange orange glow that seemed to make your legs want to give out from under your own weight. It was rare to see so many in one place. They had their own family groups, which hunted together, but never in this number, because even these creatures are in the food chain here. Another strange thing was they were all male. Normally any two would fight among themselves. But here coming in from the forest directly ahead was maybe eight or nine, possibly more still hidden behind the trees thick foliage directly opposite.

They carried weapons in their hands. Some had the long spears that they could throw with uncanny precision. Never a death throw, always hitting their victims in the calf on the back of the legs making them fall, so they could slowly finish them off. Others carried weapons of their choice. They used the skin of other animals to cover themselves. In the scheme of things in this place they were above average intelligence. But he doesn’t want them to cleaver, he needs to control them, use them like he uses everything else.

That’s why he hates our kind, can't stand us being here. We think for ourselves and that is one thing he will not allow, cannot allow. Because in the moment things start thinking for themselves he loses all control over them. If only he would let us leave, stop others from coming through. But no they still come, will always come not knowing what awaits them. Not being able to stop themselves: coming in search of something. For everyone it's something different. Takahashi can’t remember his reasons many don't, after they have been here for sometime. That's if they live that long.

That's why he's trying to stop this evil. Stop it before more arrive. It's been many weeks now since the last came through, which is longer than normal. That’s why he is here now to see, to try and change the course of things. Not that many haven't tried before him, many have. None have returned; their bones crunch under his tattered boots. If he doesn’t succeed then at least it will be over for him. It's those he leaves behind that he feels sorry for.

Movement to Takahashi’s left catches his attention. Maybe it was the wind? Maybe it was just a small foraging animal? Then another movement. Was it simply a banner flapping, catching his eyes attention? He then realizes that they weren't hiding in the trees behind the others, but rather they were circling around to where he was, using the stones and the gateway to block themselves from view. It's too late for him now. In one swift movement he's knocked hard to the ground. There’s a flash of tearing skin, a spray of warm crimson blood, a cracking of bones and ripping of sinew. For Takahashi Morio it will soon be all over, after they’ve had their fun. With his last breath he begged Emma-O, Judge of the Dead and Lord of the Afterlife to judge him well. It was now time to find out if the Gods really did exist.

The others like him stay well in the background. He was the one who wanted to try. It had been his idea. Wasn't it? They had been asked to secretly follow him, to return his body.

Now quietly they start to move back in to the cover of the darkness. They try to get as far away from this place as possible. Not just because of the fear it leaks, but because they could hear Takahashi’s blood curdling screams. Even though it was getting weak it would go on for sometime, until he could scream no more - run out of Gods name to holler. Then they would let him heal and start over again. If he was lucky they would bore of their game and kill him quickly. That’s if he is lucky.

The Dark Lord of his world had known he was coming, he always knows when they are about to try; always offering them hope. This one had failed, they always do. He enjoys seeing them try, letting them get so far, and then taking that hope away. Fear; fear is what makes him so powerful.

But evil knows there’s one thing it has no control over, and that is love. Yes they banded together but that was out of need. The more of you there are the less chance it would be you who was next; they are like a large shoal of fish. There is no love between them here. They are afraid to love because the moment you start loving someone, something, is the moment that it gets taken away from you. Love was just another word. What's in a word? They have many words here. Like friend, friend is used in the same context as the word death - it came as a friend because it gave you release.

But he knew that the one thing he could not fight against, the one thing that he had no control over was about to enter through the Gateway – enter his world.

[The Raven]

It sounds like a fascinating Sci-Fi Kryso, great work. Now that I have money maybe I will pick up a copy when it comes out. You've really got a gift and know how to refine your writing, hopefully I can refine mine just a tad more so I can finally impress myself. No matter of that, GREAT work.

[Kryso]

Here's chapter 2 for you to check out. Remember, it hasn't been edited by my editor, so this is the raw version!

2

The Brothers

"Come on, no look, put your foot on my hands that's what there for,” Garry Wolff said as he was crouched over, with his hands knotted together so they would be strong enough to take his younger brothers weight. “No your left foot, look I'll go over and pull you up."

"I said I can do it; it's just you’re not holding still,” came his brother Glyn’s, slightly miffed remark.

"Look we haven't got all night you know,” Garry said while straightening up, unknotting his hands. He removed his roly from his mouth and blew a plume of blue smoke in to the cold night air.

"I could have got it that time.” This time he carried a little more irritation in his voice. "Look we’re making enough noise to wake the dead," Glyn announced if anything to himself, because his brother was walking away in the other direction around the base of the wall, he could hear his trainers squelching on the boggy ground. Glyn waved the foul smelling Golden Vagina smoke away from his face.

"Now where are you going?”

But Garry couldn’t hear him; he was well out of earshot, because Glyn was only just able to hear himself.

“Nob-jockey.”

Garry had always done this; he never listened to his younger brother’s advice. There wasn’t much of an age gap between them, just over ten months: they joked that when Glyn went in it was still warm. And if it weren’t for the fact that they looked slightly alike you would never believe they were brothers. Like chalk and cheese, some would say. It was more like, cheese and as thick as a brick, if you asked Glyn.

They were both slightly stocky for their age, with their height struggling to reach just over five foot five; this gave them the appearance of being slightly tubby. Both having mousy brown hair, and round porkpie faces. But they were far from unfit, just big boned, as Glyn would say. Or, built like a sh**-Brick-House, as Garry put it. They looked like they should be on a ruby team; and Garry’s broken nose added to the effect - a gift from his younger brother.

Garry didn’t help matters by wearing a cream tee-shirt, a beige hoody and thick denim jacket. It made him look even rounder. Glyn on the other hand never seemed to feel the cold. He had a simple black tee-shirt with a thin black ribbed cardigan over the top.

Walking around the base of the wall Glyn wasn’t paying attention and walked straight into his brother’s back. He was to busy trying not to get any more mud on his blue slip-on Adidas trainers and plain jeans.

"sh**, you could have given me some warning here,” which came out rather muffled, because he was rubbing his nose with his hand. He gave his brother one of his stares that was kind of wasted, because his brother wasn't even facing him, and his glasses were probably steamed up by now anyway, from all the mist that seemed to be hanging in the air. And if it didn't sound too strange, he would swear the mist was hanging onto their clothes, following them around.

Garry was listening intently to any sound that might be coming from the direction of the house, just over the wall not far from where they now stood. He snuffed out his roly on the brick wall, leaving a black score. And before that one even fell to the ground he was reaching for his dented tin to roll another.

The house was not huge, but still large by normal standards. The same family had been living in it for as long as anyone could remember. Well that was up until several weeks ago, when they all seemed to have just disappeared. Some say they were in over their heads, buying up all the land around them. This wasn’t overly expensive, or good for much of anything. It was just barren hilly land, with rocks sticking out everywhere. Even the farmers around weren’t interested in letting their sheep feed on the grass. Not that there was much grass around here. Nothing seemed to want to grow close to the structure. What did grow near it seemed to have a tired sort of look about it; contaminated even.

They had put up fences everywhere. The place seemed like a large maze. Anyone would’ve had trouble trying to get their car up to the house, what with all the sticking out rocks, the boggy ground and all the fences. But then not many people use to try. The owners had no form of transportation, so they had no need of easy access. If anything it looked like they were trying to keep something in, just as much as trying to keep everyone else out.

There were a few people whom some would say, had the honor of getting over their doorstep: the Doctor, who was sometimes called out and the school overseer, who had to go twice a year to check on the four children, who were taught at home by their mother. But even these only saw the rear of the house. Going in through the back door and into a small hallway and then into one small room. The room they were always taken to. Never taken around the house, never shown any of the things in it. They were there for a reason, never offered anything to drink. Sometimes not even offered a seat in which to sit, but were left standing. They did what they had to and would then be promptly asked to leave; a firm arm steering them towards the exit.

People who came up this way would sometimes hear the children in one of the fields around the house playing. But they never heard any laughter. There was never any joy in their voices and the strange songs they sang, seemingly in a different language. You can understand why there were people passing around rumors, people that were whispering, gossiping.

There were always children and adults going missing around this area. But then people always disappear. Going off somewhere different, trying to leave problems behind, and trying to make new lives for themselves, going off into the big enticing cities to make their fortunes. Some return, others are never heard from again. They just disappeared, vanished without a so-called trace.

The Stevenson’s, as they were called seemed different; they wanted to lock themselves away in their own prison as it were, never leaving. They grew their own food, had their own water supply from the warren of caves and caverns that wormed there way all around this area. They had no reason to disappear or rather they had no need to, they were as some said, already lost to themselves.

Glyn poked Garry in the base of his spine, trying to get some sort of response out of him, even if it was a smack across the head. Anything was better than just standing here in the cold eerie silence.

The moon was almost full and sometimes it could be seen through the low-lying clouds. It was going to start to rain soon he could feel it, the light breeze that was stirring just before a downpour was making a shiver run down his spine. The fact that he couldn’t hear any other noises around him, not even the call of an owl or a small rodent, nothing. Not even bats doing their summersaults and other aerial acrobatic movements in the air around them. All was still.

"Ah you idiot! What you go and do that for?"

"Sorry, didn't see you there," came Glyn’s reply.

"What do you mean you didn’t see me, you just walked straight into the back of me? Retard,” he said rubbing the base of his spine with the back of his hand, sprinkling cigarette embers everywhere.

"Look I said I'm sorry," Glyn answered staring up at the darkened sky.

"No you didn't."

"Well, I just did, so get over it,” he said taking a step backwards just incase his brother had the idea of hitting him back.

“A hundred thousand swimming sperm and you were the strongest?” Glyn whispered to his brother’s back. “I swear I’m adopted,” sarcasm was Glyn’s forte. And it bugged him that he was walking behind his brother so he had to breathe in all his secondhand smoke; a smell he couldn’t stomach.

“So what are we up to, out here in the middle of the night?” he asked, scratching his neck just so he had something to do with his cold hands, before hitching them back over the straps of his threadbare rucksack.

"Just curious that's all. People are saying all sort's of things about this place.”

"What do you mean, people are talking?" Now Glyn was nervous.

"Like there's a lot of stuff in there left behind. If you know what I mean?" Garry said, winking at his brother. Which looked freaky, because he had to look over his shoulder to do so, and the moon was behind him, which highlighted the pupils of his eyes and made them seem like there was a flicker of light coming from inside his scull? His brother would say that that was all that was in there.

Smoke lazily curled up Garry’s face, pouring out his nostrils like a bull’s in cold weather.

The night was getting along and Glyn had to be up for work in just over nine hours. So he was hoping that his brother would get fed up and would want to start getting back soon. Not that he was looking forward to getting back to the Esso Service Station, with all the condescending looks from people who thought they were better than him, because he was serving them petrol.

”Over there. Is that a break in the wall?” He was pointing over to his left. His voice made Glyn jump, he had been daydreaming. It was late and he was overtired and when he got tired he started to drift off into his own little world. All he wanted to do was get back to their old battered and scratched faded green Ford Escort and head back home. He wasn't looking forward to the walk back, because of all the stones and stupid fences that they had to climb over. The car had to be left over by the road, which was a good ten minutes walk or rather climb away.

“I hope you’re not expecting me to carry anything back with me, not over this sort of terrain. Not that there would be much left in there. I heard there was all kinds of people up here taking all their furniture and such.”

"That’s true, but it's a big house and there's the basement and all those caves under it. They’re bound to have missed something, don’t you think?" His last remark was emphasized by the shrug of his shoulders as if to say, well you never know.

"Hey don't you go thinking I'm about to start crawling around in any ****ty caves. These are new jeans you know? I didn’t work eight hours just to buy these and then mess them up.

“I just want to have a look around in the house that's why I'm here. I just want to see if what the people say is true. You know about all the strange pictures and the weird writing on some of the walls and stuff!”

"They are just nuts; mad. That's why they locked themselves up in there, all that writing just proves what everyone's always said; psychos.”

"No their not mad, mad is what they call you when you’re poor, eccentric is what they were because they had money, and lots of it.”

"So are we going to get this over with or not? I'm cold, tired and my feet are killing me." Glyn was stamping his feet as if to emphasize the fact that he could hardly feel them. But as always Garry wasn’t paying him the slightest bit of attention, he had already set off in the direction of the hole in the wall.

“Fine… I wasn’t talking to you anyway,” he said in a whisper, which was strange because there wasn’t another living soul around for kilometres? But for some reason it seemed right, or rather appropriate to talk in low reverent tones, because the house gave off a strange air about it, made you want to respect it. And if it didn’t sound too strange he would swear the empty windows were looking out over the landscape inspecting it; watching it - watching them!

As they climbed over the rubble and an assortment of junk that seemed to have been piled up in the gap through the wall, they had to keep the flash lamp pointed down towards the ground continually; in fear they would trip and impale themselves on one of the many metal objects that were forced into the hole that stuck out in all directions.

"Maybe we should have gone over the wall, there’s less chance of impaling ourselves." And as by emphasizing the fact Garry pushed another pole to the side so he could crawl over. It wasn’t until they were so far through the hole they realized just how thick the wall was. It must have been a good four even five feet thick.

“Wow, they could keep an army out with this sort of wall."

"Or an army in. What the hell would someone need a wall this thick around here for? It's not as if there's going to be a revolt anytime soon. The length some people will go to keep them Jehovah’s Witnesses out is truly impressive." They were both laughing hard. Garry’s laugh turned into a smokers fit. He flicked his cigarette butt at the wall.

It took them a moment to realize they had come to a stop in front of a stagnant stretch of water.

"You’ve got to be kidding me. No way is that a motte," Glyn said poking it with a piece of pipe he had taken out of the assortment of metal crammed in the hole. Now as they shined the torch around, they soon realized it was an old pond that had been made in the corner of the garden to go up to the wall. It had the same look of the garden about it. All boggy and over run, the pond hadn’t been cleaned for what could have been years, even decades by the look of it.

"You would think that with the amount of time they spent in and around their house they would have kept it clean and tidy.” As Glyn said this, he was picking up what looked like an old tire with the end of the pole out of the pond, or rather stagnant bog, which seemed to describe it better.

Luckily for them the wall had fallen in on itself and had made a kind of walkway over the rancid smelling water. There was only a short jump at the end, to get to the relatively dry ground on the other side. The large wall made the garden seem even darker than the area around. There were a few trees that had grown close to the house, they were big and impressively old but looked slightly deformed. Also if it didn’t sound strange, the house seemed to look older the closer you got to it.

It didn’t really have any design to it. It was just big, square and well, there really. There was no other way of describing it. It didn’t look Georgian or Elizabethan or even gothic. The only way you could describe it was to say that someone made it that hadn’t actually seen a house before in their life, but had been told what one should look like. The walls looked very solid, to solid for the purpose of just a run-of-the-mill house. The windows compared to the size of the house were very small, too small really to let any decent light in. But they were just the right size to look out of, to keep watch on the land that was all around it. It looked like a children’s deformed drawing. You half expected a stick family stood besides it, with large white fluffy clouds floating above and a wobbly fence around it.

The other strange thing they noticed as they slowly made their way around the building was that they were walking over jutted out bits of rock, as if there had been a huge explosion underground and it had forced all the rocks to jut out everywhere. Huge slabs of stone sometimes the size of a family car were lying on their sides, as if picked up and let fall to where they would finally come to rest. For who knows how long?

What did make them wonder was that if all these stones were everywhere like this, then the amount of effort it must have taken to clear the area - so that they could build the house here - seemed too much? The only other answer they could think of was that all these stones were forced up after the house was built: but for the house to still be standing and in one piece seemed even more unbelievable. And what would cause such a cataclysmic seismic disturbance?

They made their way around what they would have called the front of the house. But because all the windows were so small and doted around all over the place with no sort of order, they could only presume it was the front. That was until they got around the corner and then they saw it.

It was huge. The front door must have taken up a good quarter of the front of the house. The size of it was immense compared to the rest of the building and completely out of character to everything they had seen so far. It looked even more solid than the walls themselves. The doors looked old, very old; it was made out of very dark wood, almost black. In this light it looked almost like a dark hole cut in to the front of the building.

"What the ****s that? You’re not going to tell me that is the front door. I'll hate to see the size of the cat that comes out that cat flap," Garry said pointing to what seemed like a smaller door inlaid inside the bigger one. When they got closer and shined the torch at the door, the first thing they noticed was that the door seemed to absorb most of the light being shined onto it. And when they ran their hands over it, it had a strange kind of texture. On closer examination they could see it was thousands of that could only be described as letters, only it was too small to read and was carved on the complete surface of the door. Well for what they could see anyway because the door was way too tall for them to see if it had writing on the top in this light.

"Look this is getting way to weird. I say we go now, this place gives me the creeps," Glyn said taking a step back.

"You know all those people are suppose to be coming back here tomorrow with all those Cambridge snobs, to look the whole place over, because of all this sh**," Garry said hitting the door with the butt of the torch, but the sound was completely absorbed by the door as if it hadn’t even been hit at all. He examined the door while pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

"They say that all this stuff may be worth a lot of money.” He clicked his tongue a few times on the roof of his mouth, as he decided on what else to say.

“Faye’s brother, you know old Hopalong, well he use to study all sorts of dip sh** stuff up at the college before he had to come home to look after his mum. You know after her stroke. Well he say's in all the time he was up there studying ancient history he never saw anything like this. He’s the one who's getting all them geek type people down here tomorrow," Garry said running his hand over the strange texture once again.

"Well, if it's so important why haven’t they got anyone up here now looking after the place?" Glyn asked with a smug smile.

"Because legally the property still belongs to the Stevenson’s, even though they just up and disappeared. The only reason Faye’s brother was up here was because he now works for the bailiffs to makes ends meet, what with looking after his mum and all."

"But they have only been gone for a couple of weeks; I thought you had to go months without paying to get them to turn up?" Glyn asked, he twirled his eyebrow piercing absentmindedly.

"You do. They haven’t been paying for stuff for months apparently. It's only when the bailiff’s turned up for the third time, and broke in to take possession, that they noticed no one was here," Garry said giving the door a push, just to test it, even though he knew it wouldn’t of been left open. Not that he would be able to move it even if it was.

"They had to get in through the back door after seeing this," he said waving his hand at the door. "They knew it would take a bulldozer to get through it." Garry eyed the door up and down as if he could work out how to get in.

"So how come if the Stevenson’s still own this place the geeks are coming over to look around?" Glyn asked, taking a few steps backwards with his arms out wide to try and gauge the width of the door.

"You know you could get a double Decker bus through this thing if you wanted." Garry either didn’t hear his brothers’ comment, or as normal ignored him.

Garry continued as if his brother hadn’t spoken: "Well apparently the National Trust has something to do with it, they got to hear about this place and they pulled a few strings. They have a lot more power than some people think; a couple of the people who are coming down here tomorrow are working for them.” After giving his local gossip talk, Garry started walking off around towards the back of the house.

"So you’re saying that the National Trust is the ones who are pulling all the strings on this one?" Glyn asked as he started to follow his brother.

“The government can step in and do what they like, to anyone at anytime. After hearing about this place it was passed on to one of their off branch sections,” Garry said, as he climbed over a large rock which was more or less resting propped up against the dark wall; scuffing his brown leather trainers in the process.

“They say there could be more to this place then some think, like it has some sort of religious meaning or some crap like that. The Stevenson’s also had no other living relatives other than those who lived in this house; problem is they couldn’t be sure how many of them there were living up here apparently. Then because no other relatives are around to claim the property, it now belongs to the Government." Garry once again shrugged.

"Surely it takes longer than a few weeks before they can just come and claim this place? I thought people had to have been gone for seven years before they are claimed as dead?" Glyn was now sliding down the other side of the rock that his brother had just climbed over. His bag caught, and for a moment his feet dangled just inches from the ground, before it unlatched and he hit the ground with a jolt.

"Well I don't know about all that I’m no lawyer. All I have heard is the National Trust is coming to claim this place tomorrow, because they say important items may be lost if they have to wait any longer,” Garry said while adjusting the bag on his own back.

"There has to be more to it than that surely? I've never heard of the National Trust doing anything like this before," Glyn said as he got his own torch out from his rucksack, because his brother kept flashing the thing around everywhere, up and down the walls trying to look through the small windows, when Glyn would rather be able to see where he was going.

“Who knows what they really want to do and to be honest I don't really give a monkey sh**, because I don't plan to be around when they get here," Garry announced, as he brought the flashlight to a halt on the back door.

”That’s strange old Hopalong said they had to smash the back door in because no one would answer. It was their third call without anyone responding so they could legally gain access," Garry stated, while rubbing his hand over the door, which he noticed had the same sort of writing on it as the front door, but in some way it seemed different but he couldn’t explain why. His silver rings clipped the surface, making a knocking sound. The one difference he could see though was what looked like slightly lighter coloured wooden lines all over the door, going more or less from the middle out, as if it was a pane of glass and someone had smacked it with an object and had fractured it, then been painstakingly glued back together again. But that sounded ridiculous, so he didn’t bother telling his brother. Instead he was trying to work out how to get in through the door because there was no way either of them could fit through one of the windows. Even a small child would’ve had difficulty.

They wandered around the other side of the house just to see if there was a bigger window. But there wasn’t and soon they were back in front of the rear door. That’s when Glyn first noticed. “There’s no handle? Nothing!" He was right there was no form of handle or any push plate, nada. There was just a solid looking door.

"You know I don't think I saw a handle of any sort on the front door either," Glyn said as he started to rub his hand over the surface of the wood. Then that's when it happened? No noise nothing, not even a squeak from the hinges, it just silently glided open.

Both looked up expecting someone to be standing at the doorway. Maybe the Trust did have someone keeping an eye on the place. But no one came out. No voice raised in anger demanding to know what they were doing here. In a sense they probably would of preferred someone standing blocking the doorway, rather than the silence that seemed to flow from the house.

They got up slowly helping each other. They had jumped back with such alarm at the door opening that they had fallen on the floor in a heap.

Rubbing dirt off the seat of his pants Glyn was the first to gain his power of speech. “That almost gave me a heart attack. I think I need to change my underwear." He would have kicked the door as to stress his point, but he was reluctant to touch the thing, he could have sworn the surface rippled under his hand just before it opened. But with the shock of the last few minutes he wasn’t sure himself now, so he said nothing to his brother.

"I tell you I'm thirty-one going on a hundred and one after that," Garry said with one hand on the wall and the other one resting on is chest, over his heart. “And don’t worry; I think your nut catchers will be fine. Oh, and if you ever make me jump like that again, I swear I will break every bone in your damn body. And pull that eyebrow piercing out like a grenade clip." Garry always resorted to macho talk when he was scared and tried to cover over his feelings. This had always gotten him in trouble. If there was a problem he was more likely to lash out than talk it though.

"Me? It wasn’t me, the door just opened," but Glyn's voice was sort of lost because he had his head in the doorway, and the hall seemed to suck the sound right out of his mouth before it had even left his lips.

"What did you say?" Now Garry had gained his composure he was standing directly behind his brother.

“We’re not going to be those sort of people who walk into impending danger with nothing more than a torch are we?" Glyn commented, looking over his shoulder at his brother, who at this point was leaning on Glyn and looking over his shoulder down the hallway.

"You might only have a torch but I go nowhere without my trusty friend," Garry said, while holding up an eight-inch blade, which he had pulled out from inside his jacket. He licked his finger and ran it along the length of the blade.

"What did you go and bring that for?" Glyn asked eyeing the blade as the moonlight sparkled off the tip. Glyn was just happy that his brother hadn’t brought more of his collection of knives. Most normal people started to collect interesting things when they were about to reach thirty-something. But Garry seemed obsessed with anything sharp. Oh well, Glyn thought, he could have brought one of his Lord of the Rings memorabilia weapons. They looked impressive, but couldn’t cut sh**.

"I only brought it to help pry any stubborn little artefacts that might be left hanging around.” He turned the blade around in his hand and looked at it as if he never seen it before. "I tell you I'm glad I did because this is starting to get weird." He now had another skinny cigarette hanging from his lips, squeezed together at one end because he had run out of filters.

They started to make their way down the hallway, which was very short and only had two doors coming off of it. They first went into the small room that had a carpeted floor, which didn’t quite reach all the way to the walls, but stopped just short. There was just two chairs, high back wooden ones, which had no real design to them whatsoever, they were well, just chairs, four legs a place to park your bum and a flat area in which to lean back on. They looked crude and home made. The only other thing in the small room was the table that didn’t look any better than the seating. No wonder the bailiffs hadn’t taken them. There was nothing else in the room; there weren’t any pictures on any of the walls, not even wallpaper. Just bare walls void of anything, painted a plain dirty white colour. Even the light bulb that hung from the ceiling didn’t have any lampshade on it. From the look of it, it could have been a prison cell; all it needed was a small metal cot in one of the corners and a rusty bucket to p*** in.

"Wow, what a bunch of party animals. I tell you, if the rest of the house is like this we might as well save ourselves the time and trouble and leave now,“ Garry said kicking the chair over. He was rewarded by it falling apart. He flicked ash on the floor.

Looking around the small room Glyn asked, "What on earth did the bailiffs find worth taking around here?"

"They didn’t, after they supposedly broke the back door in and looked inside this room, they left," Garry replied.

"What do you mean just left?" Glyn was now looking straight at his brother.

"They couldn't get through the other door, the one leading to the rest of the house," Garry said as he tried to stick the point of the knife in the wall, and was disappointed to find he couldn’t even make a mark on it. This seemed strange, because on closer inspection the walls seem to have faded symbols etched over some of its surface.

“So even though they found a way through the back door they couldn’t get through this one?" Glyn asked. They had both left the small room and were now standing in front of the only door left in the hallway. The torch’s light once again seemed to be swallowed by the doors surface.

"So what you’re saying is that the bailiffs came to the house to take possession of their belongings. No one was home, so they broke in, supposedly through the back door.

“Then after looking around that small room and finding nothing of interest, they then tried to get into the rest of the house through this door," Glyn said shining his torch on the door once again. “And they couldn’t get through, but because of the strange writing on the door, which would probably look more impressive during the daylight. And on account of these doors and the strange look to the house in general, the Government is going to step in to take control of the place, under the pretence of being interested in it because of some National Trust charter or whatever they like to call it. And all this because Faye’s brother Hopalong just happened to phone a couple of his old friends up at the college, who just happened to have connections," Glyn said once again looking straight at his brother.

"Yep that's about the lot I would say. All that happened this morning, the cavalry are coming first thing tomorrow. That's why we’re here now, to have a look around before they start charging to get in." Garry seemed to think this was funny and chuckled to himself. "So they don't know what's on the other side of this door, so they won’t miss anything, if you get what I'm saying?" Garry said winking at Glyn, which was wasted because Glyn was looking intently at the door surface.

"The only problem is how do we get through it? Because unlike the prison cell here,” Garry said, pointing to the small room they had just left, which had a normal looking door, with a normal looking handle on it. "But this one," he stated pointing at the strange door again. “Is like the other doors and it doesn’t have a handle."

"I don't think it's going to be too much of a problem,” Glyn said as he lifted his hand and placed it on the door, the door like the other one silently swung open.

"How the hell did you?” Garry started to ask, but the words died on his lips at the sight of what lay in the room before them.

[Apocalyptic Cryptid]

so when it comes out will it be sold like in a bunch of stores or like specially online..??

[Kryso]

It will be the same as my last book, THE SOUL REAPERS, which is being sold on over 110 websites, from Barnes & Noble and Amazon, just to name a few. And is sold in bookstores throughout America and Canada. And if the store doesn’t have the book, you simply give my name Glen Johnson or ISBN number 1413719260 and they can order it. Also many book clubs and such carry it in stock.

[Scorpius]

Kryso, would you happen to know which bookstore sells it in Canada. I was told Chapters doesn't do orders, which doesn't make sense since there is a sign that says orders .

Anyway thought there'd be other bookstores out here, that you would know would have your books. I don't have my Visa yet so Amazon isn't a go.

[snuffypuffer]

I like this. Can't wait to buy it and see how it all ties together.

[Daughter of the Nine Moons]

I just read the first part. So far I love it! Good work Kryso. I will let you know what I think when I read the rest.