The Glass Dagger (Afterlife Chronicles Book 1)

  Growing up he only had an old Walkman cassette player he found in a box of random junk when he was snooping in the attic once. He would never forget the bitterness he felt when he saw that the box had been labelled with a case number, not a name like the person had deserved. It had obviously been left there by an orphan and usually when a box ended up in the attic it meant that its original owner had come to the end of life’s journey. It was sad to know that whoever it had belonged to had no one in the world to pass these meagre possessions on to. All Theo could hope for was that they had at least reached a better place in death than Earth had given them in life.

  At first, he had left the box and kicked it back under the old rafters in anger, but then later that night his thoughts still plagued him. He couldn’t stand the thought that the last piece of someone’s life in this world was wasting away in some dark dusty place, soon to find its final resting place dumped on a landfill some day. At least if Theo had it he would treasure it and the poor life it once represented, even if it was filled with old 80’s rock band cassettes and a few faded heavy metal t-shirts.

  However what Theo didn’t know that day was that it would then spark a passion for rock legends such as Jimmy Page, Eddie Van Halen, Jimi Hendrix, Slash and many more. He had always wanted to learn how to play guitar but who was going to buy him something like that when he had to rummage through old boxes in the attic just for something to do. Instead he would listen to the likes of ACDC, Iron Maiden, Queen, Led Zeppelin, Guns n Roses and Metallica. So of course, stepping through his door right now and he couldn’t help his reaction,

  “Holy… shit…no freakin way!” Then his mouth dropped open in awe. It was as if someone had plucked all the things he had ever wanted in life straight from his mind and arranged them all around this one huge room. Okay, so he may not be able to play guitar yet but he was certainly set for when he did because there, hung up on the far wall, was what was on every guitarist’s wish list.

  There was a 58 Gibson flying V, a 60 Gibson Les Paul standard with a sunburst paint finish. There was also a 68 Fender Stratocaster in Olympic white and he knew it was just like the one Jimi Hendrix played. Also, hanging there was the amazing creation by Eddie Van Halen, the Frankenstrat, his personal favourite for what it represented, a monster of a guitar!

  “Oooh, now you’re a thing of beauty,” Theo said referring to the stunning aqua paint job on a PRS custom 24 that reminded him of waves on a beach. He loved them all, even though he couldn’t play them he knew it wouldn’t be long until he was rocking out on these bad boys, as he would make it his mission. And with the wall of Amps next to them, then he would certainly be heard, thanks to the makes of Fender, Mesa boogie and the classic Marshall. This room looked like the place all guitarists would go when they died and made it to Heaven.

  There was even a corner dedicated to acoustic guitars by the likes of Martin, Taylor, Washburn and Gibson, which were the crème of the acoustic crop. A shelving unit next to them also held all the other bits you would want when playing the instruments, like tuners, capos, packets of strings and plectrums galore with every design you could imagine.

  Jack leads were looped on large hooks on the wall and hard back cases were used as part of the furniture but it was what looked like every book ever written on how to play guitar filling most of the shelves that he was most interested in. Because he had to face facts, the guitars were cool but unless he knew how to play them then they were nothing but extremely expensive art work hanging on his wall.

  Then he turned to face the opposite wall and was once again blown away by where he would be both sleeping and relaxing. His bed was raised up high as if someone knew that he preferred to be up on the highest point of the room. It was a massive wooden structure that was also a great means for a work out, something else that Theo enjoyed. There were thick metal bars for doing pull ups attached, along with knotted ropes for climbing and hanging rings from the ceiling so that you could jump up and pull yourself up to the bed’s platform.

  The was even a punching bag hanging down and a weights’ bench all under the bed, like some mini gym. Theo couldn’t help giving it a try by jumping up and reaching the hoop easily before hoisting his body up with one hand. Once up there he liked the look of the navy coloured bedding as it looked comfy and inviting.

  There was also a quilted comforter folded at the bottom which was a vintage union jack flag design that was frayed where the different colours met. He put his hands behind his head and let himself fall back looking up at the high ceiling that was decorated with an ocean of license plates from all around the world.

  Then he looked over the side and down at his room, releasing a sigh of utter bliss and trying to picture his life here from now on. He could see himself in the small seating area for relaxing and was loving the giant denim hand chair that would be perfect for all those long hours gaming. He saw his new friends all in here, hanging out together and who knows, maybe some of them would be interested in learning how to play guitar as well. It would certainly be an awesome place to start up a band, he thought with a smirk thinking back to the gothic looking nightclub they had first walked into. But it was from this vantage point that he first noticed something weird.

  He saw that his suitcase had been placed on a metal chest that looked like one of those you would fill with vinyl records. It would make sense that was what it contained considering it was next to a huge shelving unit filled with too many CDs to count and what looked like a kick ass stereo system, which included a mixing table.

  His suitcase just reminded him of his old life and he just hoped that he didn’t look as out of place in this room as that old case did. But it wasn’t this that he found weird, it was that the case was open and some of the contents were spilling out onto the floor. It almost looked as if someone had rummaged through it, but for the life of him he couldn’t think why they would have

  bothered. It wasn’t as if he had anything of value, just the few items of clothing he owned and some personal items like his Walkman and an old Gameboy, one with a green line across the screen thanks to hours of being beaten by Donkey Kong.

  He shrugged his shoulders before rolling to one side and jumping down, landing on his feet like he always did. It was more than likely that the prehistoric luggage had finally given up and burst open thanks to its rusty latches. He didn’t think much of it, that was until he started picking all the items up and saw something he never expected to see again.

  “What the…” He didn’t finish off that sentence as it no longer seemed to hold the same weight as it used to, not after the day he and his new friends had just had. But I guess there was always room for something a little ‘stranger’ he thought as he ran his fingers over the front cover and traced the words,

  ‘The Glass Dagger’

  Meanwhile it was in Janie’s room, after Ena had just left to go unpack, that those stranger things started happening to her not just Theo, connecting them in a way she wouldn’t fully understand until it was too late.

  Janie’s reaction when seeing her room for the first time was just like the rest of them…she was overwhelmed. She didn’t know about winning the supernatural lottery because if she was being honest with herself then she didn’t really understand what had happened to them all. But she knew by that one glance at this room and she had definitely won life’s lottery, whether she had died or not.

  Her room was a lot different from Ena’s but then again, so was she and her new room screamed out those differences. It was true that Janie liked to hide herself away wearing dark clothes, but this wasn’t the only reason for her goth style. She didn’t do it to be different or out of some teenage angst that was expected of her for being an orphan or for living each day with a broken body. No, she simply just liked the style, the music and instead of being scared of the darker side of life, she simply embraced it…

  And until now she had always done so alone. Well not anymore, she thought with a smile and now looking around the room she kne
w that she would be doing so in her own style. Her room was beautiful in a gothic meets girly girl kind of way. A huge wrought iron bed dominated the room and at each corner large metal trees twisted up and entwined their vines at the top, joining together to make up the canopy.

  Floaty soft grey material hung twisted from the top and brushed the bottom of the dark slate floor, with wide panels of lace skulls. This matched the bedding that had different shades of grey flowers which also made up a skull the size of the bed. In fact, skulls were definitely the main theme of the room but each seemed to have a feminine element to them that Janie loved. Like the huge black and white striped rug that had a funky hot pink skull raised in a shaggy style. Or the white chair that looked like paint was dripping at the back, making the outline of a skull’s eyes and nose.

  There was even an old tall glass case that had been hand painted with sugar skulls up the sides and the inside was packed with CDs from her favourite bands.

  And then there was the wall of old typewriters that she started to freak out about. If there was one thing that Janie loved more than anything else in the world, it was writing. She would often lose herself to the beauty that could be found in the written word and fully immerse her mind for a short time in the worlds she would create. It was the ultimate step taken in escapism and for an orphan with no money, it was also the cheapest option.

  So, for Janie seeing all those timeless classics in all shapes and sizes, sat there just waiting to have their own stories written on each, then she had certainly found her personal slice of heaven. She didn’t know much about famous manufacturers or how old they were but she just knew that she had always wanted to write on one, like stepping back in time and hoping for a masterpiece to be born.

  She walked over to them and couldn’t help but push down on a few of the keys, trying to get a feel for them, smiling whilst doing so. She wanted to sit down with one, which prompted her to take a better look around the room, hoping to find what she was looking for. And there, right in front of the window, was where she found it. An old green leather topped desk that looked as old as the typewriter that sat upon it, facing the outside world for inspiration.

  Oh yes, she couldn’t wait to start something and walked over to the desk wondering how they had known about her secret passion for writing. It also made her wonder how long exactly these people had known about her as she knew that it had been at least more than a year since she’d last written anything, also begging the question, did they also know the reasons for that as well?

  She shuddered just thinking about it and couldn’t help the frown that quickly replaced the smile. The seeds of doubt were starting to take root and unfortunately, as she took her place at the desk and touched the keys, those seedlings began to sprout and reach the surface.

  The old matt black typewriter sat before her and she read aloud the golden letters above the platen roll, where paper sat awaiting her visions to be born into ink.

  “Underwood.” This was clearly the name of the typewriter and when she reached out her one hand to touch the keys something changed.

  “What the…?” She didn’t know it, but these same words were at that same point in time being uttered by another. Theo had said the same thing when he saw the book in his hand, one that should never have been there. And now Janie was also saying these words referring to the impossible and like the book, something that shouldn’t be happening. But no matter how much she wanted to give reason to it, she just couldn’t. Because keys on a typewriter didn’t move without being pressed and words didn’t appear unless they were written by hand. But that’s what Janie’s eyes were seeing right now.

  At first, she thought that she had triggered something and her logical brain tried putting it down to some kind of sensor, which in today’s modern technology could be accountable, but back in the 1920’s, then no, there was no logical reason for what was happening now. But seriously, after today, then what could she offer logical reasoning to ever again. Because nothing had made sense ever since she first stepped off that train and got onto that bus. And the way the keys had started to move on their own certainly didn’t make sense.

  The second it started happening Janie was out of her seat and standing back. It had been the clunk of one letter first hitting the paper that had made Janie second guess her sanity…had it been real? So, she leant in closer to check the paper when it suddenly started up again.

  Janie jumped back in fright and soon it was letter after letter, word after word and sentence after sentence as the keys hit the paper at incredible speeds. The ding and chink sound fired off one after the other when each new line was done and the next had found its turn.

  “Stop…stop it…” Janie muttered over and over, getting scared and shaking her head as if it would help rid her ears of the terrible sound. It was almost like rapid gunfire going off in the distance, like the haunting echo of a World War One battlefield reaching out and finding her room. But it didn’t stop and in place of her fear she started to feel something uncoiling in the centre of her belly, as if it was something deep within her that was waking up…

  And it was angry.

  “SHUT UP!” she shouted as she felt it burst from within her, something black and cold. It lashed out and hit the walls around her, transforming the room into a moving mass of shadows. This darkness started to split into smoky serpents that each slithered down and started circling her. It was almost as though she was their mistress and they were simply waiting for the order to destroy.

  Janie seemed lost to her darkness but she wasn’t too far gone that she couldn’t read the words written on the page like some mad mantra, which had been chosen for the new name of the typewriter. Gold letters that no longer held the name ‘Underwood’ but had now morphed into the chilling dagger pointed letters making up the word…

  ‘Underworld’

  But being lost to this darkness didn’t make her weak, oh no, it made her feel powerful and most of all…brave. Brave enough to rip the page from the typewriter’s clutches and hold it up to the window so she could read it. And without needing to speak the words, the serpents slithered away from the glass, providing enough light for her to do so.

  Then she read out the single line that had been written enough times to almost fill the page.

  “Lies are all you know, find the truth that’s hiding below.” And just like that, those seeds of doubt fully blossomed into black poisonous flowers named…

  Afterlife.

  18

  Black Lies

  Back in Theo’s bedroom…

  Theo just couldn’t understand it. He remembered holding that book in the airport, right before that creepy...

  “It must have been her, she must have slipped it into my bag,” Theo said talking to himself, then dropping the book back on top of the suitcase. He turned his back on it, shaking his head, quickly deciding that the guitars looked a lot more interesting than trying to figure out why that book was now in his possession.

  But he couldn’t get his mind off it. It was as though something was secretly calling out to him. Which brought him back to thinking about the old gypsy woman. It was true that she had seemed a little unhinged to say the least, but just because the old girl had been persistent about the book it didn’t mean there was anything at the time to concern Theo with…well that was up until now, he thought wryly staring back at it over his shoulder.

  “Did that just…move?” he asked himself when he thought he saw the book’s cover vibrating. Unbeknown to him, but just like his friend in the other room, he looked to the window first searching for the most logical reason. But it wasn’t open.

  He looked back to the book to gauge if what he had seen had been real or not. In his mind it had moved as though something had been alive beneath the pages and was trying to get out. He frowned and stormed back to the suitcase unafraid of what he may find and after today, then really what did he ever need to fear again.

  He thought on that a moment as his hand paused over
the front cover. It didn’t take long to know he was wrong about fear and he looked over to the door to where those fears now resided in their own rooms. Because now the major difference in his life was that for the first time he cared about people and he had a family to protect. So, with that in mind he opened the front cover and read that first paragraph again...

  ‘Our story begins in the not so distant future, when legends are written in the sands of time, like footsteps left there to follow. When the heroes of this world are children who rise above the strength of men and bend the will of their blind elders. For this story is only the beginning, so before you continue, you must ask yourself…

  He suddenly slammed the book shut, unable to read anymore, angry with himself for doing so in the first place. He must have imagined the book moving and after the day he’d had, who could blame him. But he still had to ask himself about that book. It just seemed like too much of a coincidence that in the first paragraph alone it spoke of children that would rise above the strength of men and that they would become the heroes of the story.

  Theo looked down at his hands and saw that they were shaking and he couldn’t explain why. Was it because they reminded him of all the pain they had unwillingly caused or was it because he wanted so badly for them to belong to a hero worthy of having his own story told?

  “This is such BS!” he said once more just as he had back in the airport, only this time the book decided to speak back. It suddenly flipped open and all at once the pages started flickering back and to, over and over and over. It was as if the spine had been nailed down but the pages were still free to get blown around in the invisible storm overhead.

  The room went dark as if some shadowed force was feeding from the words deep within. Theo looked to the wall of windows to see the sky was now filled with the evidence of an impending storm headed this way and the thunder was raging in the distance with brief flashes of lightening.