Board Thread:Writer's Workshop/@comment-25825682-20150606141940

Note: I need to know if this sucks or not as I've edited and added some things. I'm trying out a new writing tool and new idea, so any criticism would be helpful.

I. The Shadow on the Wall

Upon a dreary evening, while the tide rushed in and out along the barren beach, a young woman walked bearing a forlorn stare, feeling the cold, fine sand brush against her feet. She finally halted at the water's edge. Entranced by the water's reflection, she slowly moved forward, descending into the murky bay, releasing herself from the world as the tide settled...

In the month of April, around the afternoon, Alexander sat on the bench gazing at the bright, sand beach, with his green eyes. He leans forward, facing the ground as his crop-cut, sandy-blond hair dangled over the sides of his fresh face. To him, Alki seemed like any other place in Seattle. The only noticeable thing to him was the remodeled, octagonal lighthouse. Owned by the Viser family matriarch Igia Viser, it could overshadow any tourist at an estimated 11.277 meters.

“I’m sick of that therapy,” he muttered. “It is n-n-” he hit the sides of his head with his hands. “It’s not helping!” He paused and took deep, long breaths. At that time, a deep blue colored car drove up into the parking lot behind him. Shoes hit the concrete walkway coming to him, Alexander looked over, “Mom, why are you h-here?”

“So this is where you were,” she said with relief. She crossed her arms, "The therapist called and told me you missed two sessions." Alexander turned his head from her, his eyes planning an escape from the confines of the topic. "You know it's necessary to treat your stuttering."

He stood up, putting his hands in his jacket pocket. “I only missed two sessions, it doesn't m-m-matter,” he barked, walking away from her. Her eyes widened at his actions.

She approached him forcefully, "What has gotten into you, you never walked away, dismissing me?"

Alexander saw his mother intercept his path and leans on his left hip, annoyed. ''Why's she so dead-set on this? It's my business, I want to stop the therapy.'' Attempting to understand her side, he closed his eyes, and then looked at her, "The t-treatment just isn’t working for me."

“You honestly feel that way, then I’ll call the therapist, okay?” she asked, putting her right hand to the left side of his face. Alexander wanted to agree, but could not muster the confidence to say it. “Don’t forget, in June you’re going to stay with your father in London.”

“I know,” he replied...

The next morning, downstairs in a quaint two-story home, Alexander dressed in an orange T-shirt, blue jeans, and a black jacket; and ran down the hall, passing the kitchen. In doing so, he heard drops of water. Looking toward the kitchen ceiling, he discovered a leak in the corner. He saw the time on the microwave and hastily left. In the increasing rainfall, Alexander assumed the first person he'd see at the school is Olemilia, I should give her back Ulysses since I'm done with it. He shrugged, screw it, I'll give it to her later; she knows I'm good for it.

Later that day when school ended, the students ran hastily toward vehicles to avoid the torrent, Alexander and Olemilia got into her car. Once she started the car, Alexander peered out the window, noticing a student come to them. Alexander made out a messy, brown haired teen in faded clothing, coming up to his side of the car, "T-T-That isn't Arnold is it?"

At Alexander's side window, Arnold tapped on it and looked in with his blue eyes, "Could I get a lift home?"

Olemilia saw Alexander’s mouth turn into a slight frown, as she unlocked the back door, “I can’t just leave him out there, Alex.”

Arnold entered like a whirlwind and sat in the back seat, "I appreciate this Mili."

They sat quietly in the car while she drove away. She felt the tension in the air between Alexander and Arnold, “Great match last Saturday.”

"Scoring that goal was nothing special," he proudly stated. "It's the Seattle Sounders soccer camp, I can't wait for."

Fixed her bright, red hair, "I could help, but isn't it expensive to get there?"

He sat back, "That's right it is... I'll figure it out."

Glancing over at Alexander, a smile came to her face. She nudged him, "So any ideas on the project, for Mr. Langley?"

“I figured I’d do it on the lighthouse.” He said appealingly, “You could help if you want.”

Shrugged, “Sure sounds like a plan.”

Crossing his arms sharply, “Why’d you pick that of all places? That Viser family’s weird.” Arnold asked in a snarky way.

Alexander darted his eyes back at him. He knew Arnold referred to the rumors surrounding the Viser family. With their queer, pale skin and mysterious disposition, which painted outlandish stories about dark ceremonies done under their influence. "The lighthouse has a lot of his-s-story in it," moving his eyes back toward the window. "That’s why I picked it." The ride remained tense for those two the rest of the way.

Later, at home, Alexander dropped his backpack and sat on the floor against the door. His face became sullen, “He may have forgotten what happened three years ago. I haven’t and I know I never will...”

''Alexander lays on the tiled floor and looked up, haunted at the students laughing. Arnold had a sardonic smirk as he and the others mocked him, for having his pants around his ankles. Getting away from the crowd, Eathan’s heterochromatic eyes grew wide. He saw Alexander lying there and glowered at the students. Helping him up, the two ran away...''

Water drops hit the kitchen floor, which startled Alexander out of his recollection. He grabbed his backpack and went upstairs. In his room, he sat at his desk facing the laptop, leaned back in his seat and stared ceilingward. That past reflection made him remember Eathan before he was bound in duct tape and killed. He took out a picture from his desk drawer that showed him and Olemilia with Eathan a year ago. Staring at the picture, he realized he needed permission from Igia Viser to enter the lighthouse and typed the email to send to her...

On a rainy April 23rd, that late afternoon the sky was a dark gray, Alexander went up the hill surrounded by a dark forest, holding his body. A strong wind thundered down the street, making the tree branches hiss and dispersing the rain into a silvery mist around the manor. This is Ravenwood manor, with its gambrel roof and curved eaves that the Viser family lived in, or rather one of them lived in. Walking onto the porch, he rapped at the door. While he waited, he noticed how immaculate the Dutch garden was even after the storms this month. It did not seem ordinary to him that a garden could sojourn unaffected by rainfall.

Before long, the door opened to Igia Viser, a woman of fair complexion with a piece of wavy, raven-black hair hanging over her left shoulder. Despite the loss of her youngest child and the departure of the eldest, she carried her demeanor well. Acknowledging his drenched exterior took her aback, "Alexander, my word. Come in dear." After closing the door, she retrieved his jacket and put it in the coat closet, “If I knew you were coming over I'd have driven you.”

He looked at her in disbelief, believing he sent the email. “I-I was hoping you could, w-w-well," scratching his head, "allow me inside the lighthouse." His lips tightened, waiting.

She instantly started, “The tours are not scheduled until July.”

Alexander leaned on his left hip, “I have to do a p-project for his-s-story class and I need p-private access.” Moving a few steps closer to impress as if his physical presence portrayed his seriousness, “Normally I wouldn’t ask this, b-but I need t-the information to obtain the credits to intern at the h-h-historical society.”

Igia looked oddly at him as he stood apprehensively. "I see no problem with that, but it will have to be on the 27th."

Alexander's gaze shifted. "Oh, t-that's fine, I guess.” Focusing back to her, he caught a glimpse of an odd insignia on her left wrist, barely protruding out from the black, blouse sleeve. The insignia reminded him of the Roman numeral five with branches around it.

"If you can, there is a favor I need doing," she claimed. Igia had gotten a black, leather-covered book from the main hall. Approaching Alexander, she said, “This book needs to be given to Jack. I’ll be too busy to give this to him myself.”

Retrieving the book, “Sure, but why,” he replied.

“A favor to a friend,” she stated, going to get his jacket. Examining the book and the strange lock on the cover, Alexander could only imagine the secrets it held within.

Later that day, as the torrential midnight drew closer, Alexander was in his room working on his part of the project from his laptop. He had gotten an email from the Southwest Seattle Historical Society, asking that he give a vocal presentation of his project. A flood of dread washed over him. Not only did his project have to be above reproach, but now they requested him to vocalize it. Alexander sighed and imagined himself being laughed out of his presentation, for fumbling on every word.

He considered going back to therapy, but the Xanax he took before caused a brief addiction and he never wanted to experience that again. He held his head, feeling ashamed he had developed this deficiency. The TV was on across from him showing the Channel 4 King Five News, the top story being broadcast by the blond anchorwoman.

''Tragic news in Alki this evening a report just in, a body has been found within Elliot Bay this morning. The body retrieved from the water was identified as Padma Bask, the bank manager who disappeared a month ago. Sources tell us she had drowned. The police investigating the scene gave no comment on whether this death is related to the disappearances of two other citizens from West Seattle or not. Though we were told, a set of bare footprints persisted close behind the woman’s footprints. A reporter of ours asked Lt. Xavier Moss, who investigated Eathan Viser's death, are these victims more of the killers work or something else. He had this to tell us.''

The screen switched over to video footage of a police press conference on a brusque, dark haired man at the podium. ''There was no correlating evidence connecting this incident to the other disappearances. We are not ready to say whether Padma’s death was suicide or homicide. I will answer no more questions on the matter.''

Overhearing the news story, his throat constricted. He sat back, feeling as if a bullet went through his chest, I c-can’t believe she’s gone. Padma was his next-door neighbor, who was married to Ken Bask and always babysat him when his parents were busy. Imagining her husband would be devastated by the news and knowing he had no family to go to. Alexander closed his laptop and felt an obligation to visit him.

Outside his house, Alexander turns back to lock the door, hearing the winds cry across the rooftops. He crossed the wet yards and went to the Bask home. Ringing the doorbell, he called out, “Mr. Bask, it’s Alexander.”

Alexander saw the curtain of the window move. A middle-aged, vigorous man looked out at him and then let the curtain fall. In time, the front door was open, “Alex, what are you doing here?” Ken asked.

“I was w-wondering if you needed anything, l-like company or something,” he replied. Ken sighed and let him inside. Coming in, Alexander stood away from the living area. He never saw it look so horrendous. “I’m s-s-sorry about Padma,” he consoled.

Ken stood near the picture case, staring longingly at Padma’s image, “Thank you.”

Worried for his mental state, Alexander offered, “If you need, you c-can come over to my house. To help you get through this.” Ken’s eyes moved to the lower right corner. Eventually, accepting the offer, they soon left.

In Alexander’s house, both sat on the sofa. “I should have searched harder for her. Otherwise, she’d still be here,” Ken said.

“You can’t blame yourself for her death. No one knew that would happen.”

“I know, it’s just been hard with this fever and hearing that she’s dead... Do you think if I paid more attention to what she said, I would’ve found her?”

“What did she say?”

“Something about answering ‘no,’ and Eathan whispering to her… I don’t know, she was too incoherent.” Feeling overheated, “Where’s your bathroom?

“I-It’s upstairs to the right,” Alexander observed Ken as he went upstairs. He’s like the healthiest person I know, it’s weird to see him sick.

Minutes passed, Alexander sat from eleven fifty-four to midnight, when in spite of the leak in the kitchen that started up again, he felt drowsy. He wondered why Ken was taking so long and felt a distinct anxiety. Around twelve o’clock he dropped asleep, for it was from an imagined bondage that his mind leaped when the house grew hideous with malefic ululation. Alexander awoke to a crash and clatter of noises from upstairs. The agonized moans fled while the thought of Ken upstairs worried him. Rushing up to the bathroom; the door appeared inaccessible, “M-M-Mr. Bask, Mr. Bask.”

With no answer, he set his ear to the door. The sink water running, Alexander feared he committed suicide and rammed his shoulder against the door several times, before getting in. The cabinet mirror was in the corner on the floor, surrounded by broken glass and all of the cabinet’s content was scattered there. Despite all of this, Ken was nowhere to be found.

At first thought, Alexander assumed he merely left and believed he would have heard the front door open and close. The back door was also out of the question since it had a broken screen. He stepped in carefully and found something peculiar, pairs of bare, dirty footsteps leading into the bathroom. Then came the unexpected flicker of the bathroom light, Alexander withdrew to the door trembling. In the rapid blinking of the sporadic light, he saw his shadow on the wall while the glare threw another shadow vividly against the wall, which his gaze never drifted from.

Alexander could not understand it, for the shadow was not Ken’s, yet had a human shape nearly identical to his own. Shifting his eyes to the right to get a glimpse of the shadows origin; he made out it was a person, but not wholly human. The light soon settled when Alexander looked toward the fiendish obscurity. To his bewilderment the being was gone, the only thing it left were naked, sandy footprints on the floor. He followed them.

Back downstairs, the footprints seemed to have come from the kitchen. Alexander followed the path, feeling the taste of cold sweat at the corner of his mouth, only to come back to the leak from earlier. Wiping his eyes, he opened them and saw the footprint trail had vanished. However, one thing in that night was true, Ken Bask left no trace of himself behind, nor was there any apparent departure from the house. He was never heard from again. 