Excerpt: When the Lights Go Out

Excerpt #2

Draven was standing in the attic room of his house on the hill outside the city limits of LeMariette. He watched the sun set as he leaned against the window frame and tilted his head to contemplate. With an artist's eye he seemed to be taking in each and every individual flake of snow that came down against the ground. Just that afternoon, the sun had been out and melted away the snow from the previous day. And now, right on cue, the snow was back. He lifted his hand to first touch the glass of the window and then run it through his hair, the cold of his skin sending chills down his back. He turned away from the window and let the small draft catch the back of his neck as he walked away. He took a quick glance around his room and then made his way to the closet on the far side of the room.

His hand lingered around the doorknob as he thought a moment, his brow creased slightly as he turned the knob and opened it. Draven stared into the closet and on the back wall behind his clothing hanging in the center, he saw the small glint of glass. He pushed his shirts and jeans aside and allowed them to bunch up on either side of the closet so that he could get a closer look at the mirror mounted on the back of the closet. He glanced back at the closed door of his bedroom and cocked his head lightly, listening. No sound of footsteps outside the door, no sound of the winds outside, it was completely quiet. He moved into the closet and shut the door behind him. He was enveloped in darkness.

Standing in the darkness, he waited for his eyes to adjust as he looked around the edges of his closet. The closet was large enough to allow him to walk in and turn a light on, but he didn't turn the light on. He stood between the clothing on either side of him and turned his full attention to the mirror. He kept his eyes straight ahead and his shoulders squared as he watched the darkness find a way to cast the shadow into the mirror. The darkness of the closet started to close in on him and the mirror and as his eyes focused on the mirror, the rest of the closet seemed to disappear, fading little by little until he was completely one with this mirror. The mirror started to show specks of light where the dust had fallen against the surface and reflected back into his eyes.

Draven steadied his breath and continued to keep his dark blue eyes trained on the mirror's surface. He didn't flicker his eyes from one bit of light to another, instead training his gaze directly to the center, keeping his focus solely on the mirror's surface. After concentrating on the mirror and finding himself drowning in the darkness around him, the mirror began to open up. The reflecting surface showed him his silhouette in the center of the surface and nothing else but grey background casting bits of light up at him. Instead of watching each part of the mirror, he kept his focus on one central location, himself. As the mirror started to open up, it took up the entire back wall of the closet. Draven could take three steps to the side on either side of him and have plenty of room, the mirror seemed to fill up the entire closet with its surface. The grey behind him started to swirl into a soft mist that danced around his silhouette, as if taunting him, touching him, caressing him, floating against his shoulders and this flickering away into the darkness.

He raised his hand and stretched his bony fingers after a moment of keeping perfectly still and reached for the surface of the mirror. He was close enough to touch the surface and instead of feeling cold metal against his fingers, he felt the mist go through his fingers. This brought a small smile to his face, but he managed to keep his breath steady and calm as he brought up his other hand, bringing both hands together, palms pressed against one another, the tips of his index fingers allowing the mist to gather and swirl around them. He didn't look at the mist or his fingers, he looked straight ahead, watching the mirror. His silhouette didn't move as he did. The reflected shadow of himself in the mirror was still as he had been before he began moving his hands. Draven took a step forward and still the silhouette did not move. As he moved forward, the mist began to envelope him in silvery grey wisps of air that was otherwise nothing to his senses.

Suddenly, the black shadow of his silhouette bowed its head as he stared at it. It moved its hands palms up and extended on either side of its body. Then slowly, very slowly, the head of that silhouette started to incline upward again to face him. Draven didn't squint, didn't move, standing stock still as he watched with pursed lips. The face materialized on that silhouette and it was not his, the face had its eyes closed and its mouth turned into a thin, tight sneer as it stood in front of him. With lightening speed, the eyes snapped open and a glowing yellow was where the eyes should be. The figure in the mirror cocked its head to the side and watched Draven with a growl low in its throat. This did not make Draven look away, in fact, he stepped forward closer to the figure and waited, hands still pressed together in front of his chest. His shoulders were squared and square jaw locked into place.

Out of the mirror came a low hissing sound, though the mouth of the figure did not move, it was hard to tell if the sound came from the figure or the mirror itself. "You will bring her here." The voice in the mirror was a low rumbling tone as it was directed towards Draven. Draven didn't respond for a long moment and then there was a nod of his head. His dark black curls fell into his eyes and didn't move.

"I will bring her here." Draven said this in a whispered voice, though strong and resounding.

In his bedroom, he could hear the door opening and footsteps falling onto the hardwood floor of the attic. As quickly as the mists and mirror appeared to envelope the closet, in a blink of an eye it was gone. Back to the way it was when he entered the closet. The figure was his and his eyes adjusted to allow for him to recognize his own eyes in the mirror. He reached behind him to catch the strand of metal hanging from the ceiling. He pulled it and the light in the closet switched on. He closed his eyes and opened them again, trying to readjust his vision, before he opened the closet door into the bedroom. Standing in his bedroom was his mother.

She stood shorter than he, stout and plump older woman with greying salt and pepper hair and crystal blue eyes. "Draven, darling. Its time for prayers." She clasped her hands in front of her apron and waited on him expectantly. She asked no questions about why she found him in the closet of his room and he stepped out. His lanky body towering over her as he gave her a smile that only a mother could love; half smile, half sneer. She didn't back away from him, simply shifting the weight of her body from one foot to another waiting for him to do as she asked him to do.

Draven moved towards his bed, kneeling on the side of the bed, but never glancing at his mother, simply clasping his hands and resting them on top of the comforter. He bowed his head, his thick black hair falling into his eyes. He closed his eyes then and started to make out some whispered prayers, though his words were kept under his breath. A smile came over his mother's face as she watched him from the doorway.

"You ask the good Lord to cleanse your spirit, boy, and guide you to a pure life. You ask the Lord to pull you right out of this damnation that is deep in your heart." The woman's words were like a sweet woman's tone of voice, but her eyes flashed with a fierce flash of seriousness.

What Draven was praying about was not something that she could tell, as he kept his words quiet and his eyes closed. He looked to be in deep concentration and when he stood up from his prayers, he looked out at the window and his eyes flickered over the soft snowflakes that plastered themselves against his wall, there was a smile plainly, peacefully on his face.