Alax

Alax

By Robert Willgren

Copyright 2013 Robert Willgren

Smashwords Edition

Smashwords Edition, 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.

Acknowledgement

I would like to acknowledge, Bren, for assistance and support during this compilation. This work was possible as a direct result of her unwavering help.

Table of Contents

Chapter 1 – The Finding

Chapter 2 – Cross Over

Chapter 3 – The Site

Chapter 4 – Awakenings

Chapter 5 – Hauntings

Chapter 6 – The Curse

Chapter 7 – Loved Ones

Chapter 8 – Entity Attack

Chapter 9 – Black Dog

Chapter 10 – A Friend

Chapter 11 – Dark Name

Chapter 12 – Next Phase

Chapter 13 – Striking Back

Chapter 14 – Those Bones

Chapter 15 – Resting Place

Chapter 16 – Moving Forward

Chapter 1 – The Finding

I awoke to loud crash against the side of the house. The thunder and lightning had decided that everyone in this town had sinned and required punishing. The storm’s retribution had lasted for over an hour now and had begun to absorb the vibrating thunder into my slumber, only stirring when the booming was exceptionally loud. Storms like this were not uncommon and one just got used to them. The noisy crash was something completely different and I leaped from my bed to peer out my second-story window. It was dark out with the few streetlights in the vicinity extinguished from lack of electricity. A flash of lightning changed the dark to an eerie looking shade of day, revealing wet wind-blown trees swaying uncontrollably and then dark again. I spotted a dull yellow light, its beam searching around the side of our house.

'What the hell?' I thought. Another quick flash outlined my dad clutching his old torn raincoat, fighting the driving rain while his dull yellow light dimmed further. His cursing confirmed the batteries were dying and the thunder quieted as he cursed louder. He, as usual, was having a fit, which made me snicker, as it was hilarious to watch. Once his tirade started, it would last several minutes, guaranteeing everything he touched to not work.

The times I worked with him when things went wrong in construction made me laugh further. He would go into a fit, get angrier, driving himself into a complete tizzy. I disappeared, pretending to fetch tools or material so that he wouldn’t hear me laugh. Once he couldn’t get a piece of equipment to work he went on a tirade, cursing and swearing, as if that would magically fix the item. I snickered and got the look quickly coming up with the excuse of a mosquito flying up my nose to explain it away. He responded, still mad as hell,

Well too bad it didn’t fly up further and take out a chunk. I had to drop what I holding for him and walk away in hysterics. He was not impressed but laughed about it later.

He was below, in the dark, no electricity, with his flashlight about to die while investigating the house crash. A quick flash of lightning illuminated everything for a second showing the culprit. The tree close to our house, with the help of the strong wind, had a large branch torn off and struck the siding. I couldn’t see the damage, but from the sound of the crash it had to have done something to the plastic siding material. That would give Dad another reason of have a fit as a government rebate program made it too good a deal not to have it installed. And from the distance, it made the place look new. Up close though, after a few months, it started to look cheap.

Dad would say, I’m ripping that cheap shit off the house and installing brick. That sounded good except for one thing, those who work in construction tended not to do a lot of construction around their own homes. Sure he could fix almost anything, when it finally broke down so badly that band-aid fixes no longer worked. The entire tree would have to crash into the house for the brick project to move forward and even at that, it was still only a possibility.

I returned to bed wondering what would be louder, the thunder or my dad’s ranting. With my aunt and uncle over, I guessed it wouldn’t last long, besides they still had beer to drink helping to calm the crash, the dying flashlight, and the lack of power.

The next morning was bright out, meaning I could get out and go for a walk. It had been raining for a few days and even though it was spring, the chill in the air was cooler than normal. A warm and cold front had collided giving the area quite the storm. It wasn’t the worst storm we had, nonetheless it was intense.

My cousin, her little brother, cling-on cousin I called him, and I decided to walk to the river near my house that emptied into a large lake. The adults only too happy to see us gone, not hanging around to bother them, especially the ones who suffered the self-inflicted disease of hangover. After a quick piece of toast we bolted, leaving two sets of quiet parents to smoke and drink coffee.

The storm with its heavy rains brought flooding to low-lying properties. Clean-up crews were out removing the downed trees over roadways and power lines. Broken branches were strewn everywhere, along with trash lids, toys, and anything light enough to take flight in the heavy winds. We walked through the debris making our way to a forested path leading to the river. The land we would cross was once a sawmill a long time ago that closed and was left vacant. Nature was reclaiming the sawmill land back and winning the battle. I overheard my dad once telling someone visiting that some old codger owned the property and his kids were fighting over who would control it. It got so bad that the family stopped talking with each other. The family's stubbornness set in like concrete and the land was left to sit awaiting the old man to kick the bucket.

Alax, did you hear the crash last night? my cousin Frankie asked.

Yeah everyone heard it. That tree is going to hit the house one day. My first name was spelled with the letter, a, that my other 16-year-old friends pronounced with an e sound. I brushed my soaked light brown hair out my dark eyes the result of freckle faced 12-year old Barry, not paying attention and letting a wet branch swing back. He was such a pest.

We lived on the outskirts of the small community, a growing city actually, of Glendale, around 5000 people, close to a lake with an adjacent river. Across the street from our house you could get to the lake directly before developers put in a dozen so-called lakefront properties. The beach area was open to all, once you walked far enough the opposite way to find the public pathway. I had few actual good friends in our community like Frankie even though she lived in another town fifty kilometres away. She had older brothers and she was my senior by a year. I wasn’t close to them and for the most part they had moved on, meaning getting into serious trouble involving jail time. Barry, the youngest, is fourteen and has for the most part learned what not to do from his older brother’s example and with the help of his sister. Frankie has become my best friend although neither of us said so.

I wonder if our spot is wrecked, I said to Frankie mostly.

Should be okay, she said. Our spot, nothing special, a small jutted area where the river and lake met. A small forest of scattered trees gave it some privacy and hardly anyone went there, as the local teen hangout was a few kilometres down the lake. We crossed the two-lane roadway, it turned left away from the river, and walked into a wooded area of spruce, maple, and birch. Most of the old sawmill was gone, overgrown with trees and shrubbery. We walked up a gentle incline and at the top was a partial view of the river and lake through the trees. In time the view would disappear from forest growth, but for now it remained. The wide river flowed into the greyish blue waters of the lake, with a few boats about fishing or sightseeing. We followed the crest for a ways before heading down a slope that was probably a road at some point in the past. The descending path to the old road was wet, slightly greasy, making you choose your footing carefully.

Any of your brothers in jail? I asked Frankie. Barry smiled. I liked my cousins, Frankie’s older brothers, its just that somewhere down the road they became involved with the wrong crowd.

Not caught yet, she said, give them time though.

You would think they would clue in, I looked into Frankie’s brown eyes behind her green-rimed glasses. The relationship with her brothers was strained at best, her being the only girl. Perhaps the jail time they would receive was their reward for their meanness. Maybe that’s why we got along well as she had bully brothers and I had school bullies tormenting me. It was neither fair nor right, it just was.

We would have spoken more except that Barry was with us and he might repeat what we said. Frankie and I could talk about anything from our families to school. I found her easy to talk too, refreshing. Once we got to our spot Barry would find something of interest and leave us alone, at lease for a while I hoped. The path angled down toward the river where a few fishermen came to try their luck.

Watch where you walk, Frankie. A little jab at her, as I remembered a time last year when we walked through here and Frankie inadvertently stepped into a hidden pool of water left behind by the heavy rains, getting a soaker.

You should have warned me, she said with a remembering smirk. I returned the smirk, continuing on. I could hear the rush of water ahead and noticed the branches scattered with the wind blown foliage, the result of this area taking the brunt of the storm gusts from the lake. We followed the riverbank to the lake and our peninsula, our spot.

Looks like part of our island is gone, Frankie said. Our island is what we called the peninsula, our own space cut off from the world. Frankie was pointing to the missing left portion of our crescent, neatly carved out from the overflowing river.

The frigging thing is washing away, I said as Frankie nodded. The washout was a neatly curved cut from our spire caused by higher than normal river runoff, which overflowed toward our spot in the form of a small channel. Looking into the metre cut depth through the sand to light greenish clay, which stopped its erosion into our sandy island. Where the water channel touched the lake it slowed, leaving a sanding calm bottom that was slightly churned. I walked slowly along the edge of the new channel, mesmerized by its clear sparkling flow, until the stream moved away from our spot returning back to the lake. The broken overcast sky decided to let the sun through making the half metre of water glitter like diamonds as beams of light touched the sandy bottom. If not for the sunlight, I would have walked right past it. With the morning brightness, the bottom of the channel was bathed in a bluish-white tinge. Rocks, sticks, anything was magnified making them stand out. I was reminded of the saying on a cars front mirror that objects may appear closer than they appear. The outline of something was clearly visible now even though the sand partly covered it.

The thing that changed my day, the ----

A skull, definitely human, tilted toward me with a partly open jaw, screaming in silence, was half buried in the sand.

It was an eerily looking bluish-white skull appearing to stare straight at me. The skull sat mid-way in the shallow channel resting on an angle pointing toward the newly cut bank. I froze, not knowing what to do or say. Barry was following behind me by a few metres while Frankie had walked straight past it. Boy, does she ever need glasses I thought to myself.

This was the first time I had seen a human skull out in the open. It was an unexpected discovery causing my heart to beat faster. I looked into the empty eye sockets, blindly looking with its open mouth, and swallowed hard. I was not sure why I felt so apprehensive and nervous.

Barry was shuffling behind me approaching fast and I didn’t know what to do. I made a quick last second decision and turned away from the channel, pretending to look for something. A couple of metres away from the channel, I reached down to the light brown sandy ground.

Hey quarters. Barry’s attention was drawn to my location while I ran my fingers through the sand. It’s funny to observe the effect finding money or treasure has on most people. Barry was over immediately as I stood up pretending to scan the area while he began his search. Frankie approached me from my left.

Frankie, I whispered, I found something in the water over there. I motioned toward the channel while Barry was intently searching the area. He looked back at us with a questioning look.

Barry, look in front of you maybe there’s more.

Okay, he said. Whether he believed me or not, the money search was irresistible. Frankie took a few steps back to the channel stream, curious as to what the mystery was.

What’s that? She looked, leaning forward, and probably squinting before turning back to me. I nodded.

It looks like a skull. Her mouth was agape at the realization of our find.

Yes, looks like one, she said. What’ll we do?

I don’t know, let’s poke it. Frankie nodded and we went to find something to use. Barry was about done his treasure quest and I wished he wasn’t here hanging off his sister.

What are you doing? he asked.

Looking for a stick, Frankie said in her nasal annoyed tone.

Why? Came the next question of many. Frankie said nothing and continued to look. I found a driftwood branch blown off a tree with most of its bark peeled off, leaving it white and clean. Frankie found a weak looking twig and I could only shake my head. It seemed at times that she wasn’t with it. We took our dual sticks back to the channel stream with Barry continuing to ask what we were doing. I wondered briefly if we could use the extra stick to beat Barry if he didn’t shut up. Frankie used her stick first, bending down and stabbing the water’s surface at the skull. Barry continued with the questions as Frankie rolled her eyes. Her stick touched the sandy bottom near the base of the skull and broke in half, floating away.

That worked well, I said looking at her and she snorted laughing. Frankie was always doing something a bit odd and that cracked me up. I remember the time her mom asked her to wash out a punch bowl. Frankie agreed and proceeded to use hot water to give the bowl a good rinse. For anyone else the cleanup would be straightforward, not so with Frankie. After twenty seconds of hot water rinsing, she turned the water off and with a surprised look murmured, oops. I looked at her wondering what she meant as she slowly raised the punch bowl whose bottom had cracked and fallen out. No one knew how she managed to only get the bottom to precisely crack and drop into the sink.

Try yours, she snickered back. I thrust my whitened spear into the water directly at the target slowly. My first attempt was dead on the skull, slightly below the right eye socket high on the check bone area. The touch was solid on the skulls surface just above the white jagged partly missing teeth area. Suddenly I started to feel strange like my energy was being drained. My eyes began closing like I was falling asleep, slowly blinking and dimming. I hadn’t noticed that my driftwood stick has slipped into the right eye socket.

Alax? Frankie said and she sounded far away. Are you okay? I felt her hand grab my left arm as I crumbled forward. There were snapping noises like the crushing of bubble wrap while the view of the blue tinged water faded to dark, then back to the water, returning to black. Frankie was calling my name and it sounded like it was coming from within a tunnel. My consciousness began to return and I realized that I had dropped the stick. I still felt groggy as I looked into the concerned faces of Frankie and a shocked Barry. The breeze from across the lake was soothing and refreshing as I came more self-aware. I straightened up standing under my own power.

Are you okay? Frankie asked again.

Yes. It was the best answer I could come