So Far Down - Paperback

by Tracy Barber (Editor), Ken Barber (Author)

When all hope is lost, there's only one way to go when you're So Far Down.
Chapter 2Ripples of light strobe across the room. Its razor-sharp intensity pushes back at the darkness. A man, naked, is born into this world.

He drops to the ground as the darkness recedes to the corners of a white brick room. The man, this lost wanderer, lays silently on the floor as the light settles into the cracks of the mortar that can be found between each brick. He is unconscious, bruised from the fall, and unaware of the jagged spikes of darkness fighting back to reclaim the space the light stole. He is unable to move as the darkness closes in.

A small breeze brushes against the hair on his back. The chill awakens him and pushes the darkness away. His eyes open. He scans his surroundings and takes in this unfamiliar white room where the darkness flickers in the corners. A black wool trench coat lays crumpled on the floor next to him. He throws it around his body to keep warm. The blonde-haired wanderer sits there for a minute, still aching from the fall.

A white orb shimmers as it crosses by. It streams across the room and disappears through the brick wall on the other side. The light surrounding the wanderer illuminates the specs of dust in the air. Comforted by the lights and not wanting to move, the man is unaware of the threat slowly creeping up on him.

A strangling sensation quickly grabs ahold of his neck. The man, stripped of all his memories, eyes darting around for answers, as panic rises, he suddenly remembers to breathe. The wanderer breathes in and out for the first time in this universe.

He breathes again, over and over, rapidly as if to not forget that he can. Puffs of cold air rise from his lips. He covers his trembling mouth as he lifts himself off the floor. His body aches. He moans. As he stands up, the tails of the coat uncurl. The wanderer looks around, bewildered, taking in every last detail, and stumbles around confused as the light surrounding him forces back the encroaching darkness.

"Where?"

The room is empty. There are no windows. The floor boards creek. The only other sound he hears is the strong wind whistling through the crevices behind him. No city traffic honks and buzzes, no construction banging in the distance. Not even the chirping of birds, something he vaguely remembers. He turns around and finds a door being rattled by the outside wind.

A way out. The wanderer walks towards the tremoring door. He raises a brow. The wind sure is beating down on that door. Maybe he shouldn't open it, he wonders- a jagged spike of darkness stabs through the closed entrance and arcs in his direction. The wanderer instinctively jumps back. Curving and etching through the room, the violent, dark force reaches within an inch of his face. He snatches a glance of a vibrant purple glow mixed in with the darkness. Fearing for his life, he takes several steps back from the entity that seems to be searching for him.

From under the doorway, a thick, black, nonreflective oil seeps into the room. The smoke trail of darkness hunting for the young man stems from the curdled blot of ooze creeping in through the crack. An explosion of corrupted purple light crackles through the pores of the keyhole on the door and seals it shut.

"Where am I?" the wanderer asks.