Chapter Six part 2

Sam gasped.

“What do you mean?” Andrew demanded.

The man did not whisper, but he did not speak loudly, either.

“I know who you two are. No, don’t look at me like that – I recognised your faces from the news on the BBC yesterday. I know that you, Andrew, were the first to return and that you, Sam, were the second.

There is a reason you came back. You are most likely not aware of it so I will fill you in on it later. For now, it’s more important for you to remember one thing:

They know you are back. They sent you away once, and they will not hesitate to remove you again if it will help their cause.”

“Who are ‘they’?” Andrew interjected.

“You’ll find out in due course. I only hope we have enough time.” He looked at his watch nervously.

“I don’t understand.” Sam said, a puzzled expression on her face. “Are you saying there’s more than one person behind this?”

“Yes. Yes, I am.”

“Can you prove this?” Andrew asked. “If you can, it would be very important for the police to hear about it.”

The man’s eyes bulged and widened wildly. He gripped the front of Andrew’s shirt.

“But don’t you see?” He spoke maniacally, feverishly. “They know. They know everything – I’ve reported it multiple times, and they say that they’ll look into it, but nothing ever comes of it! Something is stopping them from listening to me, or worse, they’re corrupt to the very core. Imagine that for a second – a world where the only ones who can enforce the laws, the authorities, are just as evil as the other thieves, and murderers, and vandals. That is what is happening here in this city, and we are powerless to stop it!”

The door swung open and the blond haired man from earlier stepped inside. The man rapidly released Andrew, breathing heavily.

“Getting a little excited, are we, Derek?” The words flowed from him lazily.

“N – no, no.” The suited man stuttered. “Just… talking, that’s all.”

The man was no longer holding the clipboard. He smiled, showing his teeth. It was terrifying.

“Good. Now, run along, children. This man and I have some… talking of our own to do.” He was very relaxed, but the man he called Derek was anything but.

“Yes – if you two would like to wait outside, I – I’m sure we can finish talking afterwards – “

The other man smoothly cut him off, forcing him back into his chair once more. Turning to Andrew and Sam, he spoke in his silken snake’s voice.

“I do believe it’s time you were leaving. It’s getting darker outside, and we wouldn’t want anything… unfortunate to happen to you now, would we?”

He grinned at them as they left, and he closed the door behind them. They heard the scraping of a key in the lock, and several bolts being drawn.

Andrew turned to leave, but Sam grabbed his arm. She whispered into his ear, being careful that nobody else in the library could hear. Given how silent it still was, she wasn’t going to take any chances.

“Let’s listen in.” She suggested. “It might give us a clue to what’s going on here. I don’t know about you, but I for one am starting to feel more than a little freaked out by all this.”

They pressed their ears to the door, listening.

First, they heard the blond librarian speaking.

“Come now, did you really think I’d let you spoil it so early on? I never thought you were the type to cheat at games.”

His voice was mock-disappointed, with a strong note of humour.

“Is this all it is to you? A game? I didn’t think He went in for that kind of thing.” The suited librarian was speaking, his voice bitter.

“Oh, no.” They could hear the lazy drawl of the other. “He doesn’t, but He allows the most trusted of His own to do as they please. I do so enjoy you people, but I’m afraid that playtime’s over now. Can’t have you ruin all the fun so early.”

A few moments later, the door opened unexpectedly and the blond haired librarian came strolling out lightly. He caught sight of the two teenagers and, to their surprise, laughed.

“Well, well, if it isn’t you still. I’m going to have fun with this. Now – time for you two to get home. We can’t have you getting injured, and I hear the roads at this time of night are rather treacherous. Run along now!”

It was such a sudden change, from sly and deceptive to jovial, that Andrew was instantly suspicious. Combined with what they had heard, he was more than a little suspicious.

Grabbing Sam, he moved towards the doors at a jog. He did not want to spend another moment in there.

Chapter Six part 1

As soon as he pushed open the doors, a wave of warm air hit him. The air in the library was musty, as if it had not been inhabited in some time. He could almost smell the crumbling paper and the flaking ink.

It was silent in the library. Not a hushed whispering, or even silence with the odd cough or sneeze. There was literally no sound at all, not even the flick of a page being turned or the click of a computer mouse. Looking around, Andrew was not too sure that this library actually had computers.

Sam seemed to be lost in thought, biting her lip as she stared around.

A man came walking over to them. In his hand he held blue plastic clipboard with a pen attached on a short chain. He had short blond hair, and his eyes were a shiny blue, with a hint of amusement in them. This amusement was not apparent when he began to speak.

“What are you two children doing round here, gawping?” He asked sternly. “Up to no good, I’ll wager. Well? Get reading or get out!”

He stalked off. Some distance away, he stopped, turning back to them. After a few moments of intense staring, he made a few ticks of his clipboard and moved on, a satisfied look on his face.

“Do you think we should be worried about him?” Sam whispered in Andrew’s ear.

“No. I think he’s just looking for some fun. There can’t be much to do in a library as it is, and with one as quiet as this it’s got to be a bit depressing, you know?”

She nodded.

A different man stole over towards them. He was wearing a black suit, and the way he walked suggested that he would prefer to not be seen.

“Excuse me”, he began hesitantly. “Are you Andrew Blake and Samantha Arnolds?”

After exchanging glances, they nodded slowly.

“Good. I’ve been waiting for you. You two had better come with me.”

“Who are you?” Sam asked.

The man replied.

“I work here, I’m one of the librarians. Please, come with me.”

He led them to an office. He held the door open for them before entering, closing the door firmly behind him.

“Do sit down. Make yourself comfortable.”

They did.

“Why are we here?” Andrew asked.

“I’m sorry to have to be the one to tell you this, but you two are both in terrible danger.”

Chapter Five

The woman returned with a girl. She was perhaps fifteen, with brown hair, and blue eyes, shiny eyes, unlike Andrew’s brown ones.

She was wearing a red long sleeved t shirt, and her face looked nervous. Andrew supposed that he should feel nervous as well, but he didn’t. He cleared his throat.

“Are you Sam, Sam…”

“Arnolds.” She finished. She turned to her mother. “Can we talk privately, please? I don’t feel comfortable with you watching us like vultures waiting for an animal to die.”

“But-“Her mother protested.

“Privately,” Sam repeated. “That means alone, please. We won’t be able to think properly with you here.”

She turned to Andrew’s mother as well. “Would you mind leaving the room for a little while, Mrs Blake?”

Sam’s mother was determined to take charge, even if it did mean admitting defeat at the same time. Still, she put on a façade of strength and control. Andrew was not fooled.

“Come on out to the kitchen, Mrs Blake. I’m sure we can both find enough to talk about.” She stalked out and Andrew’s mother followed tentatively, gently closing the door behind her.

“Finally,” Sam sighed. “I thought she’d never leave.” She stared at Andrew’s face. He began to feel quite self-conscious, and she smiled and laughed quietly. It was a pretty sound.

“Sorry if I’m embarrassing you, but… can you remember?”

Andrew knew what she was talking about. He shook his head.

“I can’t remember anything before waking up outside of the library. Is it the same for you?”

She nodded thoughtfully.

“I only remember waking up, and then I had to wander around until someone saw me and took me to my parents. I was getting worried then, because I had no idea where I was.”

She spoke quite seriously.

“I had almost exactly the same thing happen to me!” Andrew explained. “Except I was lucky. My dad happened to be driving past and he caught sight of me. Of course, I didn’t even know he was my dad.”

Sam hesitated before speaking.

“Since coming back, do you ever get the feeling that… something’s wrong? The thought that there is a reason we’re the only two to reappear so far?”

Andrew had had some very vivid, very disturbing dreams about it, but he didn’t want to admit that he was truly scared.

“Don’t you feel worried?” She whispered. “Since I came back, my parents have been acting oddly. I’m… I’m not even sure they are my parents.”

She blinked rapidly and rubbed her eyes.

“Oh, what am I saying? Conspiracy theories, that’s all. We should be thinking. The way I see it, there’s a few things our individual experiences had in common.”

“The memory loss?” Andrew inquired.

“The memory loss,” She confirmed. “But not only that; we both woke up outside the Ashmoor Public Library. A little suspicious, don’t you think?”

Andrew had not thought of that.

“Yes”, she continued. “We’ll definitely have to go and take a look at it. Now, if I can just come up with a suitable excuse to keep my parents and yours out of the way…”

A deep frown of concentration appeared on her face, creasing lines in her forehead.

“My parents? Keep them out of the way?” Andrew was thrown again.

“Of course. What kind of investigation would it be if we had our parents around to make us look suspicious? We’ll be a lot less noticeable on our own. Besides, I’m still not convinced that she is my… mother.”

Something about the tone of her voice and the way she said this unnerved Andrew, but he quickly shook it off.

“So what are you going to tell our parents?” He asked.

“That’s what I’m trying to work out.” She replied. “Let’s see, we could say we have homework… no, I forget, I haven’t been to school in some time.” She stopped. “How can I remember the concept of school, and even homework, but I can’t even remember what the school I go to is called, or what my school friends are called?”

Andrew had thought about this.

“I think… I think it’s only the memories that were taken, not reflexes. We can still talk, we can still walk. No, I don’t think we had our minds stolen.” He looked sideways at her. “I think we had our childhoods stolen.”

“How can you steal a childhood?” Sam asked.

“I don’t know,” Andrew said grimly. “But I have a horrible feeling that we’re going to find out.”

“So, is it off to the library?” She asked. “What do you think we’ll find there?” It seemed that Andrew had somehow, in the past few minutes, taken control of the situation and now she was asking him for answers, answers that he did not have and could not give.

“To the library.” He replied. “What do I think we’ll find there? I don’t know, but I really don’t think it will be fluffy white clouds and rainbows.”

***

They stood outside the Ashmoor Public Library. The ugly cube brick building stood by the side of a road, one that led down a path to many houses in the local neighbourhood.

Andrew once again read the dull metal plaque.

Ashmoor Public Library

Established 1984

Taking a deep breath, he signalled to Sam and pushed open the library’s double doors, and entered the library. 

Chapter Four

                        ***

This is BBC News, in Ashmoor Town, England.

As we have informed you yesterday, recently there have been disappearances in Ashmoor, presumed kidnappings or serial murders.

In total there have been seventeen to date, and all have been young children under eighteen, school children. The first disappearance, probably a kidnapping, occurred one month ago, on the twentieth of September.

Breaking news – a second child has been found!

Sam Arnolds, the eleventh child to go missing in what has been dubbed the worst case in Ashmoor history, has been recovered earlier today!

As in the earlier broadcast, the child was found outside Ashmoor Public Library – just as the first child was.

As we broadcasted yesterday during our breaking news report on the missing child Andrew Blake, the kidnapper is still at large. The local police have issued a warning: please try to stay indoors, keep your children accompanied by an adult at all times. This could be a teacher, a parent, or any other responsible adult. The police also suggest a curfew of eight o’ clock, as most of the seventeen victims have been abducted after that time. This curfew is currently not official, but it is highly recommended.

This is BBC News in Ashmoor, England.

In other news, we provide more coverage on the town’s worst recent natural disaster.

On October the twenty first, two thousand and six, which was two weeks ago, the town was hit by a particularly vicious thunderstorm. Ashmoor City Church was struck by a very rare form of lightning, ball lightning, and was burned to the ground after collapsing. It is interesting to note that the church burned down, said to be due to the Devil, fifty years ago in nineteen fifty six.

There were no fatal injuries, but quite a few were injured. It was believed one girl was killed, and she was pronounced dead at the scene, only for her to revive after being taken out of the church. It is believed she had fallen into a deep state of trance, much like a self-induced coma. Trances have been scientifically proved as a deeper state of mind.

Tune in later for more BBC breaking news.

***

Andrew switched the television off.

He knew what he had to do.

Now that he was not the only survivor of the alleged Ashmoor Asylum Kidnapper, there would be less news coverage on him. Although he did not remember much about himself yet, he was fairly sure he did not want his face shown to millions of people.

He needed to go and speak with this Sam Arnolds, to see what he or she could remember. Together they might be able to put together some evidence for the police. He would not wish this fate on anyone, not being able to remember who you were, or even who your parents were.

There was the sound of footsteps. He looked up. His mother stood in the doorway.

“Andrew?” She asked anxiously. “What are you doing?”

Andrew hesitated for a moment, and then felt silly. This wasn’t a stranger, this was his own mother. Besides, she could help him.

“I want to find out more about the other person who was found. We’re the only two people who have come back yet, and I want to go and compare memories with him or her, see if we can remember anything between us. Could you… could you help me arrange it?”

“Of – of course. Shall I call them now?”

“Yes, please.” Andrew said gratefully.

His mother turned and walked to the kitchen, where their landline telephone resided. Andrew listened as she called.

“Hello? This is Savannah Blake, I’m Andrew Blake’s mother. Yes, he was the first child to come back. Andrew’s asked me to ask you if he can arrange to meet up with your child, so they can see if they can remember anything. You’re free today? That’s brilliant. What? Three o’clock?”

Andrew glanced at the clock that hung on the wall. It was half past two.

His mother continued.

“Yes, that’ll be fine. So where did you say the house was?” She listened for a time. “Alright. We’ll be there at three. Bye. Bye.”

She put the phone down. She did not turn and face him.

“Andrew, are you sure about this?” There was a look of tired worry on her face; she had still not fully recovered from the shock of losing him.

Andrew nodded.

“I have to do this. It’s not like it’s anything big, and it might help the police find the other children and, also, catch the sick, twisted person behind these kidnappings.” He stepped around her to face her. “And that’s important. Nobody should have to go through that. Nobody.”

“Oh, you’re such a good boy.” She said and hugged him tight.

Later, they climbed into the car and his father took the driver’s seat. It was quite a short journey, ten minutes in the car, although it would have been longer had they been walking.

Eventually they pulled up outside an old Victorian style house, easily recognisable by the wattle and daub pattern to it, with stripes of black and white. The window frames were wooden, and the front door was a forbidding sight. On it hung a heavy brass doorknocker, with the knocker in the shape of a lion’s head.

Nervously, Andrew stepped out of the car. His mother and father also exited the car, and his mother strode up to the front door. Did her hand waver for just a moment as she reached for the knocker on the old door of solid wood? Maybe it was just a trick of his imagination.

His mother rapped the doorknocker against the door, three times. She stepped back a pace and waited.

Presently there was the rattle of the chain being removed and the scrape of a bolt being drawn back. Andrew wondered why the owner of this house was so paranoid as to have the chain on and the bolts bolted at all times.

In the doorway stood a woman in her late forties. She had bright blue eyes, and her light brown hair was just beginning to have the tiniest hint of grey, but it was just that, a hint. She invited them all in with a pleasant smile, and after closing the door she immediately strolled off to fetch Sam. Her smile was reassuring, and her stroll seemed relaxed enough, but Andrew wondered why the smile had never really reached her eyes. 

Chapter Three

My eyes flutter open

I let out a groan

I lift up my head and peer around

I feel like I’ve bruised a bone.

Gingerly, I pull myself up

Standing on my two feet

I stagger, weak, my balance gone

I resume my stone floor seat.

How did I get here? I think to myself

Instant déjà vu

I take a look down a long passageway

Darkness, and at the end a tiny patch of blue.

Once again I stand up tall

I stagger, I lean on the wall

I take a deep breath to clear my head

Thoughts crowd my mind instead.

For we shall watch as the river flows,

Down the winding path it goes…

Song lyrics? A poem?

They drift through my head like the soft, cold as it snows.

I am confused. I shake my head

I must make my way from here

I creep into the dark passageway

My body tingles with fear.

Oh horror! I see before me now

A cavern, surely meant for giant folk

My breath has stopped, too shocked for words

Such size, I struggle to cope.

What place is this, that has a cave so large

And makes me dread it so?

Is it the cold that seeps into my bones

Or it the chill wind that blows?

I have lost all track of time

I have been here for minutes, hours, months, days

Have I been here before? Or not at all?

My memory is covered with fog and with haze.

I am aware of one thing

This cold stone floor beneath me

I must force myself to move, move

Before the spiders take me.

I see them scuttle along the passages

I see them turn their blind eyes to my face

I see their skinless corpse-white bodies turn

As if to say I am of no consequence.

I am no longer needed here, no longer valued so

The master of this dreadful domain will soon turn me back

But I almost remember, from my cracked and broken memories

A time when I was happy

And then it fades to black.

I remember his eyes, like something dead walking

Not the hellfire like that of a demon, nor shiny like a gem

But happy memories

Or, at least, the lack of them.

It’s happening again, I feel him draw near

The Blind One returns to the child he hurts

Again and again it happens, or is this time the first?

He reaches out his finger. This part’s the worst.

Oh great one, I feel your strength!

And your memories come rushing in like a river through a broken dam to my head

It is too much for me to hold, too much to remember

I fall back to my freezing stone bed.

Chapter Two

He tried to open his eyes. They were gummed shut, and he rubbed at them blearily until his eyes popped open.

Moving his eyes around, he saw that he was lying on a pathway, next to a building.

Brushing the gravel from his body, he stood up, groaning. From the pins and needles that spiked through his arms and legs, it appeared that he had been lying there for quite some time.

He blinked. He had no idea where he was. Looking around, he could see that he was in a public place. He remembered had been lying on the ground next to a building, so he turned to inspect it.

It was a large square building, with glass windows that showed row upon row of books. A metal plaque proclaimed the building to be the ‘Ashmoor Public Library’.

Where was he? He didn’t remember being in a place called Ashmoor. In fact, the last thing he remembered-

He frowned. He couldn’t remember anything. Oh, he knew how to walk and he was fairly sure he remembered the English language, and he could even remember facts, but the simple truth was that he had no memory of his past life.

This frightened him.

Just then a car drove up beside the library, and a man leapt out.

“Andrew – is it you?” He called. “It is you! You’re back, you’re safe! We thought … we thought you weren’t going to come back.”

Was his name Andrew? Oh, well, he could not remember his name so Andrew would do for now.

“Who are you?” He asked gruffly.

The man froze, a look of alarm on his face.

“Andrew? Are you feeling all right?”

Andrew began to back away. Something in the back of his head whispered about stalkers and muggers, and the animal instinct in him kicked in. He turned and ran.

“Andrew? It’s me, it’s your dad! Andrew!”

Andrew stopped running, and turned cautiously.

The strange man who claimed to be his father stopped also.

“What’s going on?” Andrew asked. “Where am I, and what happened?”

The man hesitated.

“Tell me!”

“What do you mean, where are you? You’re in Ashmoor Town, just like always. Well, where do I begin? Andrew, you’ve been missing for a month.”

Andrew silently digested this.

“In Ashmoor, children have been going missing. First it was just one little girl, and there was a fuss over it, but when the second child, a boy, disappeared, there was a major uproar.”

“How many children disappeared?” Andrew whispered.

“Seventeen in total. You are the first to come back. Oh, Andrew, I’m so happy to see you safe.”

***

This is BBC News, in Ashmoor Town, England.

Recently there have been disappearances in Ashmoor, presumed kidnappings.

In total there have been seventeen to date, and all have been children under eighteen. Psychologists have been called in to see if this can provide any possible link.

Breaking news – one child has been found!

Andrew Blake, the thirteenth child to go missing in what has been dubbed the worst case in Ashmoor history.

The kidnapper, nicknamed the “Ashmoor Asylum Kidnapper”, is still at large despite the efforts of the authorities to find him.

Andrew Blake claims to have no memory of the time he spent while kidnapped – or at all. Here we have substances expert Joe Chair to explain.

“Thank you. Now, there are many drugs which cause memory loss, but it is unlikely that any were used on Andrew. Why? Because he has been examined by top psychologists and no drug-related issues have been found. There is no drug currently known to the scientific community that could completely wipe the prefrontal lobes and still leave the cortex and cerebellum fully intact.”

Thank you, Mr Chair. We will keep the public updated on any new occurrences.

This is BBC News in Ashmoor, England.

***

Andrew turned off the television. He was not comfortable in this house, or with these two adults, the man and woman who claimed to be his father and his mother. He had no memory of them.

His father had hoped that seeing the house might bring back some memories, but so far it had not helped at all. It was as if everything that had happened before Andrew was twelve, and up until yesterday, had simply been wiped from his brain. It was as if they had not happened.

“How are you feeling, Andy?”

A nervous, slightly high pitched voice called from the hallway. It was his mother, her face perpetually twisted in a worried look. She had been so relieved when Andrew had been found, but since learning of his memory issue had not stopped worrying.

For his part, Andrew had not yet had his name for long enough to decide whether or not he liked the pet form Andy. He called back to his mother.

“I feel fine.” His voice was cool and the words were clipped and clinical. He was still cautious, unsure if these were really his parents.

Oh, they’d shown him pictures in an effort to jog his non-existent memory, to no avail of course, but photos could be edited so easily these days by anyone that it really was not proof at all.

“As long as you’re happy.” His mother smiled thinly. She looked ill, Andrew thought, and then wondered how he knew it.

In fact his mother was just beginning to recover, When Andrew had first gone missing, she had become very weak and unwell. The doctors had said it was the stress.

Andrew was still not entirely convinced that these two people were really his parents, but he remembered this afternoon.

First he had been taken to the police station, and the police had removed the ‘Missing’ notices. The BBC had then been called, after they had driven home to his house.

Thinking back, the look on his mother’s face would have been hard to fake. The wideness of her eyes as she had seen Andrew, the delight and joy in her eyes as she had realised her son was finally home, the tears she had broken down into – it was not something you could easily put on. Still, something did not seem right.

Andrew was back.

It seemed to him as if he had never been there before.

Chapter One

It was a dark night in Ashmoor, and Irene was worried. She held Isaac close as the storm raged outside the house, lightning flashing and thunder roaring like a beast from myth and legend.

She would have been worried at any time – after all, she only wanted the best for her little child – but right now she was particularly concerned.

Recently in Ashmoor, there had been a series of disappearances. The news had been full of stories, ranging from wild conspiracy theories such as the well-known conspiracy theorist Robert Blake’s claim that they had been abducted by Grey aliens and dissected, to the much more mundane police reports that they had more likely been kidnapped.

Irene’s mind was full of terrifying thoughts in which she saw her dear son being kidnapped, dissected and tortured, and a whole range of other things. Mrs Raine had a very good imagination and she could hardly stop herself from playing out many different scenarios in her mind. She shuddered at the thought of Isaac being drowned, and then cold, long fingers reaching for him.

The thunder screamed again, viciously loud. Isaac, only seven years old and not the bravest of children, began to cry.

“Hush, Isaac, it’s all right, it’s just thunder,” Irene soothed him. “It can’t hurt you.”

But the child would not stop crying.

Suddenly there was a great flash, so bright that after it stopped Irene was blinded for a few seconds. She blinked frantically, trying to see what was happening.

There was a loud crunch, and the sound of tearing metal and cracking stone.

Irene rushed out of the house, securely locking it behind her, leaving Isaac inside. She tore down the road, trying to see what could have made such a terrible noise. It had not sounded good, not at all.

As she reached the local church she skidded to a halt. Immediately she could see what had happened. It was 1956 all over again, something she had heard about in stories from her parents, who had been children at the time.

21^st October 1956

The church service was going as normal. It was a large church, and on some days more than three hundred worshippers could be found there, singing hymns and listening to the vicar speak.

This evening was like any other. The vicar was giving a short sermon, and then the hymns would begin. And so it would go on, for hours and hours, people coming and going as they pleased. There was a Festive atmosphere, it being rather close to Christmas, and all in the church were joyful and singing their hearts out in time with each other.

And then the Devil struck.

That was what Irene’s mother had always told her; the Devil himself had come up from the darkest depths of Hell and put a stop to the merriment and happiness in the church.

The weathermen had told a different story.

An unfortunate storm, they had said. Ball lightning, a very rare occurrence, they had said. Just bad luck it had happened to hit the church where three hundred men, women and children were worshipping and being happy, they had said. Just chance that four people were killed, two men and two women, and that sixty more were injured. It was all just a very unfortunate coincidence.

Ball lightning? Irene’s mother hadn’t described it like that. What had she said? Wildfire, tearing through the roof … like a demon’s claws ripping through the flesh of a sinner. The pillars supporting the church had crumbled like wet sand drying out, and in the midst of it all, men and women had fallen to their knees and begun to pray, convinced the Rapture was upon them.

Three more of those sixty had died from their injuries eventually, one after two weeks on a life support machine. He had been crushed by a falling pillar. Another man had been thrown against a pillar by the force of the wall and roof falling in. The third, a woman, had been burned alive by the fire and buried under rubble. It took three days for the authorities to find the charred, blackened skeletal body and twice as long for them to identify it. Without the gold band of a wedding ring she had worn, engraved with her initials, there would have been no way to find out who she was.

The destruction of Ashmoor City Church was ruled as a freak weather accident, and nobody was blamed for it. Although many religious men and women muttered darkly about how God had forsaken them, because they had sinned, and the conspiracy theorists had a field day, nothing happened about it.

The Church was eventually rebuilt. The accident was mostly forgotten about, as disasters will be. When people do not wish to remember something, they will not remember it.

***

Irene had never forgotten the day when her mother had told her that story. It had been a day in October, the twenty first, and the anniversary of that terrible day. Her mother’s face had been wet with tears as she remembered; she had lost her own father in the accident. She wasn’t the only one to lose family that day, of course, but it had been her father… she had cried so much, looking back on that day.

But that had not been the only thing that had happened on the twenty first of October, nineteen fifty six.

Now it was happening all over again.

No one was killed in this accident, but many were injured.

In a dark place, something stirred. It sensed fresh blood, fresh death, and better yet.

It sensed new memories.