A Shadow in the Light: Ch. 1

A few weeks ago an amazing idea for a story began to formulate in my mind. I have not fully completed this chapter, but I have a decent outline. I know that there are probably countless things I can edit and a lot of fluffing I can do to make it more lengthy. I am looking for any and all reviews and commentaries on this, good or bad. Anything you think will help is welcomed, from flow, to how the character is introduced, to the transition of events, to whether or not it captivates your curiosity, and anything else. Please enjoy. (Title of the book is subject to change)



Rylan gasped for air as he scanned the horizon for his pursuers. He knew he only had a few moments to rest before they caught up. He took a drink from his canteen, savoring the way the cold water felt on his parched throat. When he finished drinking he checked to make sure the pendant still hung around his neck. He rubbed his finger over the smooth, dark red ruby, marveling at its perfection.

A noise behind him brought his attention back to his objective. Rylan stepped into the courtyard, the smell of death hung in the air. He walked through the ruins toward the entrance of the catacombs. The door opened with a loud creek and Rylan descended in to the darkness to fulfill his destiny.

Rylan awoke in a cold sweat, that had been the third time this week he’d had the same dream of those crumbling ruins. He groaned as he glanced over at his clock, 5:43, he had little over an hour before he had to be at work. He reached for the bottle beside his bed, not even a drop. Rylan threw the bottle across the room where it shattered against the wall, showering the floor with shards of glass.

White hot pain erupted from his head as he climbed out of bed. He stumbled to the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of Advil and tossing three pills in to his mouth. Next, he poured a bowl of cereal and sat down to eat. He left the lights off, eating in the dark. Ever since he could remember Rylan had always felt more comfortable in the dark. As a child it had never frightened him as it had for so many others, but rather it had given him a sense of security.

He finished eating and got dressed, putting on a dirty flannel shirt and pair of old blue jeans. He didn’t bother with shaving or brushing his teeth, hygiene had never been one of Rylan’s interests.  He left his half eaten bowl of cereal on the table and went out the door.

After his mother had died from cancer, Rylan had dropped out of school leaving his education unfinished. She had been the only one that Rylan had, his father had ran out on them when Rylan was two, and his sister, who was fifteen years older than him, had died of an overdose a week before Rylan turned six. He had only stayed in school to please his mother, and without her, he saw no reason to continue. He packed up the few possessions he had and bought a one way bus ticket to a town he’d never heard of. For a little over three years Rylan had traveled the country, starting in his hometown of Arlington, Kansas, and making his way through Colorado and Arizona, until finally settling down right outside of Los Angeles, California.

His depression had worsened over his three years abroad following his mother’s death. He turned to alcohol to numb the feeling of worthlessness he carried in his heart. He drank his soul into an utter state of emptiness, blocking out all feeling and emotion. The only job he could procure was as a clerk at a gas station whose owner sympathized with Rylan’s condition.

Rylan unlocked the door and flipped the switch behind the counter. He covered his eyes as light flooded the station, bathing the room in a fluorescent yellow. He checked the cash register to make sure he had change, and then flipped the sign to open. Rylan released a sigh as he sat down behind the counter, closing his eyes to rest before the first customer arrived.

His shift was bearable until mid afternoon when a man came in for a pack of cigarettes. He was tall, about six feet, with broad shoulders and perfectly combed brown hair. He had on a black suit and black tie, Rylan noticed a silver Rolex when the man reached for his wallet.
         “Let me get two packs of Cools please,” the man asked,
         “That will be $14.63,” Rylan responded, sliding two packs of cigarettes across the counter. The man gave Rylan a hundred, and Rylan returned his change.
         “What the fuck is this?” the man asked, counting the money Rylan had handed him, “this is only eighty dollars, you think I wasn’t ganna notice if you skimmed a bit off the top?”
         “Calm down, it was a mistake, here take your money back,” Rylan said.
         “Mistake my ass, get a real job and stop stealing from people who actually earn their livings you fucking dead beat loser.” The man said as he turned around and stormed out of the store. Rylan was left standing behind the counter, shaking with anger. In his mind, Rylan envisioned himself grabbing the man by his neatly combed hair, smashing his face in to the counter again and again, “fuck you!” Rylan screamed as the man’s skull shattered against the hard edge of the counter, splattering Rylan with blood.

A loud ring brought Rylan back to reality. He picked up the phone, “hello?”
         “Hey, this is Alice, I’m sorry Rylan but I can’t come in today, my moms been in a car wreck, can you cover for me?”
         “Yeah, I guess I’ll have to,” Rylan said.
         “Thanks, I owe you one,” Alice said, hanging up. Rylan walked to the back of the store and grabbed a beer, he was going to need it if he planned to spend seven more hours in that shit hole.

Seconds turned to minutes, minutes to hours, until after what felt like an eternity it was time to close. Rylan had already had twelve beers and was well beyond a slight buzz. He performed all the necessary rituals for closing and placed a bottle of scotch in a bag, heading out the door.

Rylan stumbled back to his apartment, the bottle of scotch already two-thirds empty. He struggled to unlock his door, leaving two new scratches amongst the dozens of others surrounding the key hole. After he finally managed to open the door, Rylan ran for the bathroom, vomiting violently into the toilet. He wiped the specks of bile from his face as he made his way back to his room. Rylan finished the last few drops of scotch and collapsed on his bed. His world began to spin as he lost his grip on consciousness, succumbing to blackness.

Rylan gasped for air as he scanned the horizon for his pursuers. . .