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    Alone
    Alone
    Alone
    Ebook120 pages1 hour

    Alone

    By Eric Clay

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    About this ebook

    Roy Clawson awakens from a nightmare...or was it more than a dream? After his terror subsides, he reexamines his life in the small town of Fairview. Why doesn't he fit in? Why is he never invited to the strange meetings at the high school? Why does a bright light periodically appear from the direction of the high school? Who is Murdoch? What are his parents hiding from him? Can his girlfriend be trusted? Will he discover the truth...or does he even want to know the truth?

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherEric Clay
    Release dateJun 16, 2015
    ISBN9781310787133
    Alone
    Author

    Eric Clay

    Eric Clay makes his home in the Southwestern United States with his wife and two children. His hobbies include boating, photography, and now writing. He has often been accused of having an overactive imagination, and he readily admits to the truth of that. He enjoys anything having to do with science fiction, the paranormal, or solving mysteries. Alone is his debut novel, which is--you guessed it--a sci-fi, paranormal, mystery.

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      Book preview

      Alone - Eric Clay

      Dedication

      Dedicated to my mother…my inspiration!

      Chapter One: Awakened

      I jerked awake. Perspiration beaded my brow and my body felt stifled. The only relief came from a cool breeze blowing through the window across the room. Sunshine beamed onto the foot of my bed as it did every summer morning.

      It's not true. It can't be. It was a nightmare.

      Sweat trickled down my neck and the heat trapped beneath the sheet was unbearable. Inhaling and kicking off the covers, I concentrated on calming my raging heart. Repetitive knocking of the blind string against the window sill sounded loud to my ears.

      I remained in bed paralyzed by fear. Other than the slap of the string, eerie silence enshrouded the room. I looked at my closed bedroom door. Did the wind blow it shut?

      Nothing made sense.

      What if it wasn't a dream?

      My heart hammered and the sweat on my body brought chills. A loss of sensation spread up my arms.

      You're having a panic attack.

      Hoping it wouldn't intensify, I tried to ignore symptoms that had become familiar over the past several years. I focused and concentrated on each breath—in and out, in and out. I had to clear my mind to prevent an attack. Finally, I started to relax.

      Chapter Two: Miss King

      From the Beginning

      As I continued methodically breathing I decided to reexamine my life, beginning with my first memory of weirdness.

      I was in the fifth grade; a kid with cropped blond hair bleached by the sun, blue eyes, and an attitude twice as big as my short stature. If there was one thing I had learned in my eleven years, it was that I definitely did not fit in with the other kids, no matter how much I tried. They had a connection that always eluded me.

      Some of the name calling I endured throughout elementary school was: loser, freak, weirdo, nutcase. Daily, I tried to fit in, only to be mocked and harassed. And daily, I wondered why I was different from everyone else. It's not as if I went around looking for trouble.

      My only friend was Matt Crimsley. He was skinny and short like me, no more than five feet, with long, flyaway orange hair and patches of freckles across his nose and cheeks. He had a gap between his front teeth that made him look like a chipmunk. I don't think he owned a hairbrush, and he usually wore the same afterschool attire—jeans snipped with scissors to make them into shorts and a brown T-shirt sporting a twisting trout on the front. His black Converse shoes had holes in the sides and looked like they should have been thrown away years earlier.

      Matt lived with his Mom on Willow Street on the outskirts of our small town of Fairview. His mom worked for McDuff's, the local grocery store, stocking shelves during the late shift. I felt bad for him because he had to stay home alone most nights while his mom worked. Mrs. Crimsley didn't make much money so Matt didn't even get an allowance. He was a faithful friend and always stood up for me when the other kids started their harassment.

      The day of weirdness began like any other school day with me and my sister walking to the bus stop by following the forest trail behind our home. Halfway down there was a small pond that dried up every year. The bottom of the trail intersected an old country road that led to Main Street, the road into town, and also passed by Willow Street. We always picked Matt up on the way. The bus stop was located on the old country road across the street from a picnic area. I remember it was a windy day and, as usual, the bus arrived around seven twenty-five. It was never late.

      All aboard! shouted Mr. Rigsby like he did every morning while opening the sliding doors of the yellow monstrosity. Matt and I always sat in the seat directly behind the driver and Mr. Rigsby always pulled the bus to the front of the school around eight.

      As was our habit, Matt and I entered the classroom at eight fifteen, barely making it on time. Miss King stood at the door waiting for the last students to arrive. She had a reputation for being the toughest teacher at school and never wore makeup. The extent of her color palette seemed to be black or brown to match her black hair. Whenever I caused a disturbance, she would make me sit outside the door of the classroom. Yes, she was tough.

      This day was different because there was a foul smell in the classroom. It smelled like something was dead and rotting. The other kids didn't seem to notice the creepy odor.

      Matt went to his seat in the back corner of the room because Miss King wanted us separated. My seat was in the very front center where she could keep an eye on me. As I sat at my desk, I couldn't understand why no one was complaining about the stink in the room. I raised my hand.

      Miss King said in her scratchy voice, Yes, Roy?

      Miss King, what is that horrible smell?

      I don't smell anything. Does anyone else smell anything?

      The kids shook their heads and looked at me like I'd stolen their lunch money or something. Almost in unison, they said, No, I don't smell anything.

      Next to me, I heard Jacob Jensen say under his breath, Freak.

      Turning around, I glanced at Matt and he shook his head.

      The stench was so strong I couldn't believe no one could smell it.

      What does it smell like? asked Miss King.

      I said the only word I could think of to describe the awful stench. Death

      Death! she snarled. How do you know what death smells like?

      I smelled a dead deer before.

      Trust me, if something was dead, everyone in this room would know it, including me. Now no more nonsense. Everyone, pass your homework assignment to the front.

      Glancing around the room for the cause of the horrendous odor, I noticed Miss King watching me closely. I looked at the closed door to the supply room, which usually remained open. I figured there must be something in there causing the smell.

      The odor remained constant throughout the morning. We had a short recess, but the stink was still there when we returned to class. At eleven fifty-five the bell rang. Miss King excused us and we all rushed for the door. Roy, she called in a stern voice.

      I froze because the only time I heard that tone was when I was in trouble.

      Yes, Miss King, I replied, cautiously.

      Can you stay for a minute, please?

      Um. Okay. I couldn't think of anything I'd done wrong other than ask about the stinky smell. Maybe I did something bad yesterday? Puzzled, I slowly returned to my seat.

      Miss King shut the door after the last student and then went from window to window at the back of the classroom shutting blinds. The room got darker as each of the six blinds was drawn. This was very unusual behavior. Miss King never closed the blinds unless we were watching a film. I started feeling uneasy. I must really be in trouble.

      Anticipating the worst, my heart started pounding. My father had warned me that I would be in big trouble if he got another call from the school.

      Miss King finished pulling the last blind and peeked around it. A shaft of light streaked through the crack and emphasized her harsh features. Finally, she turned and walked to my desk.

      Roy, you're not in trouble, she whispered. There's something very important you must know, but we don't have much time.

      In the dim light, I could see she looked scared.

      She said. You are–

      At that moment, Matt opened the door to the classroom. Startled, Miss King stopped midsentence.

      Roy, are you coming? Matt demanded.

      I looked at Miss King. She looked nervous and said, Go ahead, Roy. We'll talk after lunch.

      I started toward Matt who was holding the door open, but turned back to Miss King. You sure? What did you want to tell me?

      "Only that we'll work on

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