Wars of the Infinite & the Eternal: Wars, #1

By Justin Lucero

The remnants of the old world still linger, mere fragments of its former glory. Buried deep within its core are the histories of ancient civilizations that once reigned supreme. But what of those who were cast out for defying nature itself? What if a few daring souls were to unearth them once more? Would the world be ready for their return? Enter Robert Clemens, esteemed anthropologist and professor of literary arts, on the brink of what he believed to be the discovery of a lifetime. Little did he and his students realize, they were about to unleash a force beyond their wildest imaginations. Brace yourself for the unraveling of events in this heart-pounding action/adventure and sci-fi thriller. Prepare to witness the opening of Pandora's box and the chaos that follows.

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Justin Lucero
• Release date: Dec 10, 2022
• ISBN: 9798215614938

Justin Lucero

I'm a new blood writer that deals in fictional sciences and horror stories. 

Book preview

Introduction

As an artist, I love to create. Creation is one of my favorite things that this world has to offer.

Which is why I’ve always loved entertainment, but never have I had any secret agenda to change the world tied to it.

It should be obvious by now there’re groups in this world that can, and will, divide us for the divine ways, and traits of our being. And they’re not beneficial to the common people when they’re funded by those that decide to use them for destruction, and mass genocide. Keeping us as a species confused, and in a state of urgency. Fighting one another without really focusing on just who’s been sparking it all to begin with. From the corporate media who has been (and still is) lying to us, to our own government that uses trillions of our tax dollars to create psy-ops, and all sorts of evil, weird, and creepy programs. Hell, we’ve even found our very medical, and learning institutions have all been lying to us for quite some time. And let’s not forget the entertainment industry, and all its wicked scandals.

Yet, even with all that out in the open for the public’s eyes to see—we still have social butterfly’s falling right into the many traps of who, or what, to hate next, or what to love, by these groups. With little to no forethought. Perhaps—it’s due to the generational lies we’ve been led to believe since birth. Maybe it’s become more than habitual—as it’s become bred into us at this point. Sadly, it’s how we, as mammals seem to react anyways. We tend to herd.

But as I get older, and the more nonsense I begin to see and hear—I feel I should really start considering influencing myself, and maybe others in my own way.

This fictional adventure speaks just that. Knowing our true friends, our true families, and our true purpose in life. To even coming to know our true enemies.

This book is dedicated to my wife Nissa, and my little one Malerie. You’ve both been a major turning point in my life. I love you both so much. Thank you, for always being there when I needed you the most. In a world of darkness, when one could use a hug, and a smile. And to our little four-legged friend J.J.

To my dearest friend Jennifer, who’s managed to inspire, and keep me motivated—even after all these years. You’ve been a great help in contributing to a lot of my projects. To Simon, my friend from overseas. Thank you for allowing me to be a part of your projects. I hope to be able to do the same for you in the near future. To my long-time friend, and brother from another mother, Steve. You drive me nuts, but I’ll always see you as my friend.

To Michael, it’s really nice to see someone as young as yourself learn so much in such a short time. Keep learning as much as you can, when you can. I look forward to working with you more.

To the bands I know locally. Everyone in Fatal Malady for giving me a chance to help, and later becoming your friend. Brent, Clinton, William, Dustin, and Moise. I love you guys, and always wish the best for you, and your families. To Christian, and everyone in the original Sectas crew. You’re all mega-talented, and I hope you all continue to grow as musicians for a very long time. To everyone in Shadowguilt, for allowing us to help with your music video.

To my favorite local spot, StarFighters Arcade! Much love, and support to all the local AZ family-owned businesses. To my dad, my two sisters, my brother, and my two nephews. Special thanks to my editor, Melissa Ingram. You’re a lifesaver!

And to those that’d lost their businesses, their families, and their loved ones. Whether through death, financial ruin, or simply mob-related mentalities. Due to the puppeteers, and the puppets that’d created the Plandemic, the BLM, and Antifa riots. The crazed political parties, steered to destructive chaos—and the vaxx rollouts. I’m sorry for all your losses.

Lastly, if the mobs try to cancel you because someone’s feelings were hurt by something you’ve said, or done—sit back, and watch them eat themselves as you move forward. It’s all one bad joke anyway—but it’s a whole lot funnier when you’re laughing back at it. Don’t give up any of your power to anyone. And to quote those that made the awesome memes ‘Epstein didn’t kill himself.’

To The Ones That’d Rather Create–Than Destroy. Good Luck, To All Of You. And Make What Needs To Happen... 

- Justin L.-

CHAPTER 1 - Family Matters & Sorcery.

Sometime in the 13th Century. 

A thick, luminous aura presented itself over the horizon of Blood Moor forest, as a chilling fog eerily blanketed. Cutting through the ominous soft greyish blue veil, were the daunting colors of crimson and burgundy—stretching miles from its maples, swaying from their black crooked trees. From afar, over hills and mountain tops of rich grassy green lands—its vein-like path was striking. As the calming sounds of water ran from a crystal blue stream filled with salmon, surrounded by rocks and green algae, led way to the lush grasslands of what would be later known as StoneWater Massachusetts.

A herd of deer grazed peacefully on the rolling hills, their graceful forms lit by the sun’s yellow beams, as a young muscled buck casually took its drink. And then—its ears suddenly rose to the distant sound of echoing chants, and cold grey tones then painted over, as if someone had sucked the life out of the area. In an instant, the peaceful scene was eradicated as the beasts frantically dispersed, disappearing into the green woods, as the path of red would then violently shake from a series of howling winds. Deep within the heart of Blood Moor, a malevolent presence loomed, with its dark energy seeping into the very air. The ancient trees and their leaves danced wildly, falling in a chaotic whirlwind. Like fiery embers cast from a wild blaze.

Several eyes glimmered from out of the blackness of a rocky cave, as a pack of wolves lay awake. Their fangs would then reveal, growling with hot breath—as a cold gust suddenly blew red foliage and icy billows past its entrance.

Even they—could sense it. Toads croaked, peeking their heads from a nearby pond to dipping back underwater. Rabbits stayed silent, burrowing into their holes. Not one animal, could be seen venturing the trail that led into the deep red. It’s as if they all knew—something, was not right.

The trail leading to the red path ended with a tall greenery of hills. But in the epicenter of that red leafed area with its blackened trees, protruded eight towering pillars, each seven stories high, gleaming with a dark, mirror-like sheen. Their imposing stature, encircled a circular stone platform with a wide infinity symbol at its center, crafted from the remains of ancient human bones. A colossal altar—remnants of a much bigger, older structure (Zhad-Uul’s black temple); built of a rare onyx-type stone from a much older era. Beneath the ancient beaches of ‘The Nardaan Sea’ later to be called the North Atlantic.

The black, monumental columns of the structure seemed to intertwine among the lifeless trees, giving the illusion of a living entity, attempting to blend in with the roots and their dark branches, parasitically feasting on what had been left of their essences. It was clear that it could never truly assimilate. Because surrounding the structure was more death... The decaying remains of animals and human bones, emitted an unbearable stench that savagely permeated around it. It was as if death and decay were drawn to it, as it evoked a powerful feel of foreboding and unease. The ethereal mist settled upon the area, shrouding it in a ghostly comprise, intensifying its unnatural ambiance. Truly, a dark and malevolent force at work.

Within the circle stood eight figures cloaked in crimson hoods, their faces obscured by heavy shadows, and their eyes glinting with an unnerving light. It was as though a spotlight excelled directly into their souls, revealing the darkness within. but the sun was not present in the area to cause such an illusion—for the sky had completely hidden it with dark clouds. These were the members of the Order of Eight, puppets controlled by the malignant black demons known as the Zhad-Uul (Suns of the Black Ethereal). Creatures that had long plagued the vast Moor forest with their wickedness, using the Order as vessels for their heinous deeds. As the figures stood in silence, their breath escaping from dark portals, a sense of dread remained.

One broke formation to reveal a pair of grimy, veiny hands. Embedded in its curved nails were mixtures of black soot and dirt; strenuously it clutched to a tattered book marked with yet another infinity symbol. He then spoke in a strong Scottish accent. Zymrk! Forgive us, dark brother—lord of the infinite abyss! For weh—yehr disciples have failed yeh! Weh must now face our final destined path. But weh, will protect what weh have doon for yeh, here—my LORD!

He carefully placed the text in the center before stepping back into the circular formation. Like a hellish choir, they then emitted a low harmonious hum. Reverberating the entire forest, they then raised their clawed hands high as an electric current crackled to life around them and the ancient book. A brilliant purplish glow radiated from the ground, illuminating above them. Suddenly, the stones of the floor began to shift and rise, fitting together like an intricate puzzle. Brick by brick, they floated into place, creating a mysterious opening that allowed the text to descend inside before sealing shut with an echoing knock.

Beyond the crest of the green hill, nestled among the high trees of the forest, a squadron of knights emerged. Clad in pristine white attire adorned with striking red and gold draperies, their presence was nothing short of grandiose. The glint of their silver and gold armor caught the sunlight, casting a dazzling display as they rode gallantly on horseback. The sun’s rays seemed to have pierced through the clouds, illuminating them in a heavenly glow. Some bore the iconic red Templar cross, a symbol of their unwavering faith and dedication. Others displayed a cross that resembled a gleaming sword, shimmering in a brilliant gold hue. Their arrival was quite the sight to behold for all who witnessed it. Their auras displayed of power and nobility, their presence commanding respect and admiration. As they rode forth, their determination and valor was evident in every stride. The forest seemed to come more alive with the sound of the beasts hooves they rode, and the metals that shone so brightly off them as they clanked.

At the forefront of the squadron, mounted on a magnificent white steed, sat their leader. With one hand casually resting on a polished gold helmet decorated with intricate Scottish and Celtic designs, a lock of blonde hair flowed from it. His face was specked with freckles, painted in hues of reddish-pink, complemented by a fiery orange beard intertwined with locks. Evenly draped along his scalp was a mane of long, thick orange hair, intricately braided. The wind danced throughout the fiery strands, fluttering them like flags in the breeze. In the prime of his life he gave off an authority and insight that signified his age.

From the isles of Norway, he and his clan set sail in search of a new land. Their journey would lead them to meet the legendary Arthur’s Templars, who were on a quest for the holy grail. The red-haired warrior, known as—Sir Daniel Gunn—and his loyal followers formed a pact with the Templars, united by their desire for gold and riches.

With the guidance of their wise mystic, Tinkur, Sir Daniel and his clan embarked on a journey that would change their lives forever. Together, they would create a powerful alliance known as Solas Na Croise (Light of the Cross).

He then spoke. Weh had everythin, and yeh turn ta such dealins—in this? He pointed to the ominous structures, but there was a great somberness to him. Why? The knights all began to advance slowly down the hill. Yeh wehr always favored by our beloved mother, and father. He always made sure—Aye, would protect yeh, when he would come ta pass. Why have yeh doon this?

He and his horse came to a sudden halt with the others following suit. His nostrils then flared with hot air, and his brows pointed down as he’d become angered by the silence. Red suddenly began to fall, softly around them.  Speak! Speak—and answer, for why yeh’ve doon this ta us! Speak, and answer for this blasphemy! Speak, for our family—why?! Why have yeh cursed us?! Brother... Please.

Like diamonds, his sky-blue eyes shimmered as a single tear escaped to trace down a cheek. He sniffled, hastily brushing it away with his arm. It was a moment marked by a final opportunity. To find solace within himself. As the events that would unfold next—would become a heavy burden he would bear until the end of time. Faced now with the daunting task of vanquishing the evil from the land, a task that would require him to eventually—slay, his own brother... Nathaniel.

One of the cult’s members slowly crept forth removing his hood, to reveal a face of lacerated flesh, protruding bones, and a mouth with sharp and misshapen teeth. A pair of empty purple eyes glowed, staring out as he suddenly spoke in a dark unnatural tone. I—am no longer your brother! His flesh. Is now my flesh! You have failed him!

Crinkling the leathers from the horse’s reins, Daniel’s heavy fists clenched with unwavering fury. You are all too late! Fore the magic we’ve cast, has already run its course. The deed is now done! How ashamed must you feel... Its cackled laugh echoed throughout the trees. HAHAAHHAHAHAHAHA!

It is a shame then for yeh as well, demon. For yeh woon’t beh able ta celebrate—after Aye’ve beheaded yeh!, Daniel shouted. He placed his golden helmet on, raising his sword high. His men quickly followed, and their weapons sung loudly as they were unsheathed, gleaming with light. KILL THEM ALL!, he then commanded with great pitch. 

Immediately, they glided, charging with remarkable speed down the round greenery. Yelling in unison as they reached the pillars to then ferociously hack and slash through the cloaked men and women. Hideous screams carried as their limbs and heads were ripped through, with smoke and purple flames spewing from out their wounds, and a sulfurous stench would then fill the air. Soaked in blood and sweat, the red-haired chieftain slowly sat himself upon a large stump. His somber gaze would soon fix on the decapitated body of his younger sibling, a sight that only brought him an unfathomable grief. With a heart ached in a mixture of sorrow and rage, and a mind consumed by thoughts of vengeance. He sat there, surrounded by the pungent aromas of death, vowing to avenge his brother's untimely demise, no matter the cost. As the light within him burned brightly in his eyes.

A stern, but warm hand suddenly placed itself over his shoulder pad, instilling a calming energy over his aggravations. He then turned to look up at a young soldier out of breath, sweat beading his face. His second in command, Douglas. What of the pillars, my lead?, the man then asked with bated breath.

Have Bruce, and the rest of the men destroy them at once., Daniel then answered, with a serious tone.

Eerily still, looming over two hacked bodies stood a tall helmeted knight with a face shield dripping with red.  Gripped tightly in his hands he wielded a giant ax, gruesomely caked with gore. His helmet emitted a scraping sound as he gave a peculiar glance to Douglas, who stood with a curiousness at the titan. Brother Bruce—our lead wants us ta destroy the pillars. The hulking knight gave a light nod, clanking as he paced toward the high stones with his large weapon. Everyone watched with great anticipation, as the giant then raised it high, to come down with a swift blow to the side of one of the wicked structures. YAAH!

Suddenly, they stood frozen in fear, their faces etched with shock as he now gripped a long wooden staff—devoid of any metal. Beneath his feet, shards of steel littered the ground. And the pillar showed. Not. One. Scratch. Quickly, he turned to Sir Daniel, who’d risen to stare at the darkened columns. God in high heaven! Tinkur—what devil sorcery is this?

Devils—they’re ta be, indeed., an elderly gentleman solemnly nodded, his long grey beard flowing as he stood tall, holding a staff bejeweled with a crystal-like rock at its peak. He was draped in a royal red and gold shroud, embellished with a cross-like symbol that bore a striking resemblance to a sword.

Silence—became everything, as each warrior stared with bewilderment into the menacing structures before them...

CHAPTER 2 - Stone Water University.

Sometime in the 21st Century.

Inside a smoky apartment, the sounds of bagpipes accompanied by a thrashing drum beat and heavy crunching guitars blasted from a speaker shaped like a pill. An iPod sat messily atop a mountain of dirty clothes, displaying a picture of Celtic knights with painted faces posing with guitars. On its screen read ‘Nord Lycan - The battle beyond the grave.’

A small white Chihuahua with a deer-like head, and a name tag proudly displaying ‘Yogurt’ approached a glistening puddle on a dirty floor. In a frenzy of rapid licks, the surface was suddenly cleaned. The tiny cretin then looked up with its little black eyes bulged in a hopeful gaze, waiting intently as a droplet descended from a beer bottle above—like a nectar from the gods—it would quickly be devoured by its eager tongue. The sounds of typing then ensued, as a young pale goth girl sat with a cigarette in her mouth glaring into her computer screen with disdain. Her hair almost black, and her eyes a hazel color lighting bright past dark makeup. She typed frantically at a desk littered with CD stacks, papers, to empty beer bottles. On her head, she sported a black beanie, a Sectas band sleeveless shirt, and black and white striped pants with military boots. And a small piercing shone brightly just above a nostril.

Eyeing the words she’d just put down with strict scrutiny, she quickly deleted them letting out a long sigh, just before plunging her head in her arms amidst a sea of crumpled notes. My name is Nancy Sullivan. Just your typical heavy-metal goth girl, pretending to be a writer... I’m twenty-two and I never thought my life would be that interesting, that is—until the friends I got to know in college. And the two professors I grew to love...

The next room over, a girl with long blonde wavy hair wildly sung with headphones as she wrestled with a pair of jeans. Grooving to her tunes, she paced energetically from her room to a bathroom, clad in bright summer pastel colors. And that basket-case over there was my bosom buddy—Lynn. She was a little younger than me, and although she’d drive me crazy, I couldn’t help but love her. She was my best friend.

Lynn danced her way to a door with a sign that read ‘FUCK OFF, I'M WRITING!’ Knock-knock. Nancy! Did you borrow my lip gloss, again?!, she shouted.

The young goth grouchily sighed in defeat, once again highlighting all the text she’d just written, deleting it. She then rose from her seat vigorously tapping buttons on the iPod, the music levels turned down—but not by much.

Knock-knock. Lynn adjusted her stance with impatience. Nancy! Lip Gloss?!, the blonde then shouted again.

With a slow creak, the door swung open to reveal a short, pale vampiric looking woman, glaring up with big darkened eyes as she stood brooding with resentment. Ah—it’s you! The plague in my human existence... Why don’t you find another best friend to torture?

Lynn smiled, batting her lashes she then patted Nancy’s head to mimic a frown. Why so cynical? You love me. And you know it! Besides, you know all of my secrets. I’d have to kill you, if we weren’t such—best friends and all.

Nancy laughed. Pfft! Yeah, right. You? Kill me?

Lynn stared in a deafening silence. Nancy then returned the ominous gesture. And in one quick motion, Lynn instantly slapped the side of Nancy’s left bottom cheek so hard, it echoed the hall, forcing her out from the door frame.

OWWW!, Nancy then shouted. She could really be insufferable... With a mischievous wink, Lynn sauntered into the room. As she strolled past the cozy living area and small dining room, she finally arrived at her destination - a cluttered sanctuary decked with an extensive collection of heavy metal posters and band patches. Suddenly a sneeze erupted, as she’d just passed a mountain of clothes. She then turned to a small, white, furry face with a black, rubbery snout and bulging eyes staring up at her with curiosity. The little goof had burrowed within. Oh. My God. Yogurt, for your sake—you better hope that’s a clean pile!

As she spun to the dresser, her eyes landed on a small pink tube huddled among stacks of CDs and bottles surrounding a massive stereo. Without hesitation, she snatched it up and walked over to Nancy, waving it in her face with a mischievous grin. Nancy responded with a playful nod before shamelessly flipping her off. Lynn cracked a big smile. So, we’re still going to Erin Blairs Halloween party on the thirty-first? Right? ...

Yeah... Wait. What day is today?, Nancy then asked, rubbing a newly sore bottom.  

Lynn laughed. It’s the twenty-ninth, Nancy. It’s Wednesday. Octo—ber...The twenty-first. Century. Do you need the year too?, she said mockingly.

Nancy rolled her eyes, quickly slamming the door in the blonde’s face to then plop herself back in her chair. She then re-pasted the text she had written earlier, glancing at it for a moment, her eyes then shifted to the clock on her screen. Shit! Lynn! We’re late again!

Yogurt watched in confusion as she dashed out of the room, to slam the door shut. A small wine ensued as the dog stared out at it. In a flash, the door swung open and she darted back in to grab two bags from her bed before exiting the room once more. Yogurt let out another whimper, pawing at the doorway. After a brief moment, it swung open once again. With a spark of excitement, the dog joyfully spun around, flashing a big smile before panting happily with a wagging tail as she knelt down. I’m so sorry, Yogurt. Awe, momma’s so sorry—she didn’t get your food ready, did she?

He was my little mans... Total momma’s boy. Originally, I named him marshmallow, because when he was a puppy it’s what he looked like. But then Lynn and I got plastered one night, we woke up to the sound of something dragging, hitting my walls. Scared, we thought the place was haunted. We went to the kitchen to see a tub of yogurt we’d left was moving on its own. We turned it over to see the little bastard staring up at us caked in white as he had eaten it all. He was shitting white for weeks. I thought he was gonna die. So we gave him a new name. As she tenderly rubbed his fur, he couldn’t resist giving her face some licks. She made her way into the pleasant kitchen, reaching up to grab a bag from the cabinet. She then poured the delicious contents into his bowl. He eagerly circled to then devour the crunchy treats with delight as she left for the final time.

Outside in a parking lot, both women jumped into a 1966 black convertible, Mercury Comet Cyclone. Along its sides were rusted metal and chipped paint, giving it a rugged charm. The engine revved with the loud clunk of head-gaskets fighting to start, for a puff of black to suddenly fly from its exhaust. Lynn rummaged through her bag. Nancy turned to see she had stopped to stare at her with confusion. What? ...

I forgot my shades., Lynn said in frustration.

Really?, Nancy looked out the window to a sky filled with storm clouds. There’s practically no sun.

Lynn smiled. Even in the dark, a girl can never look too fierce. BRB! As she hurried out the door, she suddenly stumbled over the steps, nearly tumbling into a bush before finally reaching the entrance.

Oh my god..., Nancy shook her head in disbelief. She sighed, resting on her steering wheel. Basket-case... It was not the first time we had been late. It was always something, either it was her or it was me. I guess you could argue we were both incompetent when it came to doing things on time. Well, at least when it came to class. Hey, being fashionably late is a very hard skill. It takes time to do it right...

The young blonde dashed back out, sporting stylish green frames over her eyes. With a bright smile, she hopped into the vehicle while her pale friend shot glaring look.

I got us some Scooby snacks!, she dangled a zip-lock bag with five joints she’d just pulled from her purse. Nancy’s face suddenly brightened, and the car began to pick up speed, the two ventured past a forest of vibrant red maples. The leaves fell, fluttering as winds began to pick up, and dark clouds loomed overhead with flashes of lightning illuminating the sky.

––––––––

The car would become swathed in a thick haze of smoke as the girls passed a joint, belting in laughter. They bantered playfully, their bond almost unbreakable, and their spirits filled with joy. As the vehicle continued its path, it approached a looming gothic castle-like structure with a polished brass bell. A big stone sign inscribed with ‘Welcome to StoneWater University’ stood a front.

Within the confines of a boom gate, a small booth housed a short, round, black man in his late fifties with a mustache and a neatly trimmed haircut. His badge and uniform proudly displayed the words ‘StoneWater Ridge County Security.’ And with a big stretch of his mouth he was ready to take a large chomp into his sub sandwich—only to be instantly interrupted by the sight of two youthful, grinning faces. Now, ya’ll doing this shit to me on purpose—aren’t ya? He rudely snatched Nancy’s parking ticket, putting it into his machine, and the boom lifted as he handed it back.

I’m sorry, Ray, we tried to...

He interrupted impolitely. I don’t wanna hear it. Bye. He waved with irritation, going back to his meal. Nancy rushed into the lot hitting a curb and the two girls jolted forward. An alarm went off blaring from another car adjacent. Both girls got out giggling uncontrollably, adjusting their attire as clouds billowed out with the aroma of dry grass. What can I say? We had the best of times together.

Thunder boomed and rain poured down as the two dashed up the front stone steps, pushing open the grand glass doors of the entrance. Their wet shoes squished and squeaked, leaving a trail of water behind them as they entered the modern interior of the building. The stone pillar structures were a noticeable difference to the sleek, contemporary design, along with its high-tech security advancements. They stumbled into the large metal doors of the auditorium, where students were gathered. The doors shut loudly behind them, causing a few heads to turn in their direction. Ignoring the curious glances, the two friends giggled their way up to leisurely plop down into seats.  

Seated behind a half-moon desk, a tall man expressed his impatience with a tiresome glare. His light-brown hair flowed down the back of his neck, perfectly complementing his neatly trimmed beard. A pair of fine lenses perched on the bridge of his narrow nose, framing piercing blue eyes. Despite being in his late fifties, he appeared to look in his forties, with a slim physique that was impeccably dressed in a blue satin tie, salmon button-down shirt with rolled sleeves, grey dress pants, and brown shoes with silver buckles. He had a sleek style and sophistication, with a bold confidence that demanded attention. That was our Professor, Robert Clemens. But we all either called him Mr. Clemens or Mr. C. He was good to all of us, in a way, he saw our real yearns to do well and succeed in life. And—he understood our flaws trying to get there too. In a way, he was almost like one of us.

Behind him, a matching jacket casually draped over his lustrous black leather seat - a garment he rarely found occasion to wear. His desk was carefully organized with a laptop and two metal flatbed baskets overflowing with papers in need of grading. And placed in front was a small pumpkin, its spooky face illuminated by a tiny LED that flickered like a candle. A quirky touch to an otherwise mundane workspace. So, what’s the story this time? Let me guess—your sick grandmother needed tending too?, he then said with sarcasm, looking toward both girls now.

Lynn quickly rose. Oh, you’re so close. You just wouldn’t believe it! I woke up on the rag—again! She turned, whispering toward the class. It was like a murder! There was blood everywhere! The sink! The kitchen! The floor! It was crazy!"

A student suddenly dry heaved. Robert’s face went to disgust. Okay. Stop! You’re literally starting to sound like every female comic! I did say she could be insufferable...

The young blonde swiftly reached for her bag to drape its sides over her head, causing it to slide over her ears like a vintage bonnet. Flipping a wrist, she began to fan herself, turning to the class, putting on her best southern accent. My—I just had to haul my little ol’ southern self here—just to see all you wonderful youngsters. By the lovely grace of God, Lord Jesus himself—here I am, ready to learn!

He shook his head. "Alright, ‘Gone With The Wind’, would you just sit down? Please?", he begged.

The doors suddenly burst for a stylish young Asian woman, emanating with a bold confidence. Her hips swayed graciously as she entered, clad in a sleek low-cut black leather blouse paired with striking black and red patterned pants. She held an umbrella with elegance. Her jet-black hair framed her face, with bangs gracefully skimming her brows. The makeup on her eyes and lips was a subtle yet alluring reddish pink, enhancing her natural beauty. With every step she controlled attention, as the young men all unknowingly eyed her with fascination, so did the women. Some with a mild jealousy, and then—with ease, she closed her umbrella and took her seat. That was Sara. She was—something... No one really understood her but, we all loved her.

Lynn let out a laugh continuing her southern voice. My—what do we have here? This dark-haired vixen be the devil... She seems to have cast some sort of spell on me now. Quick, someone whip out the whipped cream and strawberries—it’s about to get sassy up in here! Sara shook her head, rolling her eyes as the class loudly expressed their enthusiasm to the comment.

Looks like I’m not the only one who’s late in this house! By all means, Ms. Sara Lee. Why is a young, little Asian persuasion like yourself getting here later than me?

Embarrassed by her wild friend’s zany antics, Nancy sighed to swiftly bury her head on her desk, covering her face with her hands. Drawn to the absurd situation, the young goth couldn’t resist her own curiosity as she peeked past her fingers. Sara gave off a tiresome sigh, shaking her head in response to Lynn, as she knew the comedic girl would not go silent without finishing her silly bit. Are we, seriously going to keep going with this?, she said, sounding bored.

Impressed by the performance of the goofy actress, as she had kept a straight face still adorned with Nancy’s bag on her head, Robert stayed silent, deciding to spectate the entertaining display. Lynn smiled zest. Oh. I have all day my love! As the audience erupted in applause, she gracefully bowed and blew a kiss to Sara. Sara playfully pretended to catch the kiss with her hands, only to theatrically toss it to the ground and stomp on it. Lynn gasped loudly. How could you be so cruel with such a gesture?! You, were my heart?!, she then faked a cry.

Robert clapped with the rest of the class. Lynn—if only your writing was as good as your acting. You’d have a very high A... Her smile suddenly went to a frown. Sit down, please., he then said.

GET OVER HERE, AND SIT DOWN!, Nancy whispered loudly, quickly yanking her wild friend by the bag on her head almost giving her whiplash.

Ms. Lee, I’m not even going to ask why you’re late. We don’t have the time for another monologue. All of you need be here on time. Otherwise, I’ll make all of you do an extra assignment that will have to be turned in before the end of class. Understood? They all nodded silently.

Right. Well, now that we’re all done with the theatre performances, we can continue with our original discussion. Can you do more? Look at your writings. Are you resisting change or the unknown? The important benefactors of writing something worthwhile is not always edge. It’s something more than that. The content has to fascinate the minds, and compel those to want to read it.

A roaring snore suddenly reverberated from the back of the room, the students couldn’t help stifle their giggling. All eyes slowly followed Robert as he calmly strode towards a hooded student sporting a stylish crimson and cream varsity jacket, complete with earphones. With a playful grin, Robert paused to loom over the slumbering figure, observing with amusement as drool fell from the young blonde man’s mouth—like a grotesque yo-yo it would bungee itself back up and down. That sleeping giant was David. He was all muscle for sure. But, he was our muscle. He was part of the Ridge Knights home basketball team. Although he didn’t really care for the course, as he’d simply joined the class to keep a certain credit average; it was funny to have him. With our circle of misfits, David fit right in.

With another mischievous grin, Robert then skillfully took the earbuds out without waking him, to then shouting. HEY, DAVID! Without warning, the young man flew from his seat with a stray piece of notebook paper clinging to his cheek, and the room erupted in laughter.

Awe—sleepy little fella? Could you try, and pretend you care a little bit about the topic today?, Robert asked in a calm, but assertive manor. The young athlete slowly wiped his drool, peeling the paper off as some residue stayed on his cheek. Ewwwww!, everyone expressed with their disgusts.

Robert then made his way to the front of the room again, shaking his head slightly as he walked. With his hands clasped behind his back, he reached for a small remote and clicked it, causing the lights to dim. He then smoothly pulled down a large white screen from the ceiling and clicked the remote once more. Suddenly, a vintage sepia-toned photograph materialized on the screen, capturing a man standing before a large, black, hideously twisted lifeless tree. Here is a story from 1756. It is of a man rumored to have seen Lucifer, who some have said appears on Halloween night and the Spring Equinox. They say, he used the grounds where an old monastery once stood, that was said to have been a portal to and from the gates...

Uh—wait. What gates? Nancy asked, puzzled.

He smiled. The gates of Hell! She rolled her eyes. I had to ask...

Some say, he was drawn to the site of frequent witch-hangings within our great state. The alleged backstory was of a mother and daughter, both who’d been accused of witchcraft. Burned at the stake in 1701. The mother’s charred remains were then carried to a far-off location, while the daughter’s was buried in a steel-lined coffin.

It is said, that coffin was covered in stone, and encased in crosses to prevent her from escaping. Others believed one of the graves actually contained the child of Satan. Either way, despite the rumors, referring to the Prince of Darkness himself...

David laughed to interrupt. Come on, man. You expect us to believe this stuff? Urban legends have no clout here.

Robert smiled. Says the man, wearing one on his jacket.

David glanced to his left breast at the emblem of ‘The Ridge Knight.’ It was the school’s mascot: a knight patch meticulously sewn from the waist up, brandishing a sword and shield, decked with a helmet featuring a flowing lock of hair. David let out a sigh of resignation.

Robert continued. Cults were known to flock these grounds, they too would speak of myths that circulated this grave site. Some were of our very own legendary, urban myth—Sir Daniel Gunn and his tomb. The first printed article about the horrors of this unholy site could be traced back to 1751. Based on whispers of an evil—that had made its appearance again, originating all the way back to the 13th century. Or so it’s been said. In the late nineties, the hanging trees were then cut down to stop vandals from visiting the premises. We all know it now, as StoneWater Memorial Cemetery. Some of the rumors within our small town have been on an even grander scale.

More absurd than that?, Sara laughed.

Smiling, he clicked his remote once more. The slide transitioned to a new image from the same time period: a photograph depicting four men holding a large mirror with an intricate metallic frame.

This mirror for example—was supposedly found by the four men you see here. It was claimed to have belonged to Sir Daniel Gunn himself. A gift given to him for his valor, and the many battles he’d won. Said to have a magical presence within it; forged by a master magician that would later befriend him in his efforts to thwart evil. It was three feet wide by seven-feet tall, and weighed slightly over two hundred pounds.

Another image of the mirror emerged, this time much closer, revealing elaborate carvings of angels and demons garnishing its frame. Along it were knights on horseback wielding swords, shields, and axes as they all appeared to be clashing into an immense chaotic battle. This was originally auctioned, and sold—to the very man you saw before. Standing in front of the hanging tree. A year later, he died. And all his belongings were sold off. And wouldn’t you have guessed it? So was the mirror.

Onto to the next picture: a middle-aged woman with long brown hair styled in elegant curls. She wore a large-brimmed hat embellished with flowers and a frilly Victorian dress. Her appearance was lingering, as the woman sat serenely with a daunting gaze and somber expression that seemingly fixed directly on the viewer. Eerily towering behind her, was the massive looking-glass.

It was later auctioned to this woman you see here, the young Jenna Rideer. Wife of General Colton Rideer, known to have led some of the infamous Rangers during the French and Indian War. Jenna bought the mirror for her husband for when he’d return. It was to be a surprise, an honorary welcome-home gift. Seems a likely gift for a war veteran, if you ask me. Wouldn’t you say so?

One evening, she awoke to laughter and the sound of footsteps, followed by what sounded like the clinking of metal. Not exactly sure what this was, she lit a candle and began to walk a long hall within her house. Now it was said by many who visited the home that the mirror was on the second floor, at the very end of the main hall of the Rideer residence.

The remote control clicked, revealing a new image: the interior of a grand mansion. A long, darkened hallway gave way to a bright area to the far right, where a giant mirror suspended upon a lengthy wall. It was as if it there were a battle between the elements of both light and dark, as the sunlight forcibly pierced its bright rays through two long windows, illuminating the scene with a supernatural glow. Just under the menacing silvery object, two women sat leisurely at a small table, carelessly sipping their tea. One of them was Jenna. The presence of the mirror in the midst of the bright Victorian décor still defined a peculiar and ominous ambiance.

On the night she heard the noises, she recalled an image had appeared within its glass. It was Sir Daniel Gunn—in full medieval garb, wearing a gold and silver helmet. Glaring back as he laughed. His face revealed what she said, and I quote, A rotted corpse for a face, with maggots spilling out from his eyes. Then suddenly, the ghastly image of her late husband General Colton appeared. Rotted and bloodied from arrows that’d pierced through both his eyes. Fainted from fear during the night—it would be the housekeeper to find her the next morning—on the floor...

The remote clicked again to an old printed article, dated 1760 that read ‘The Souls of the Men We Lost Today on the Battlefield.’ A week later, General Rideer was among the many that were found dead; killed by arrows. After that, she decided it was best to rid herself of the doomed object; auctioning it to another—later, they too would do the same as she.

With each click, more photos appeared of a new owner, sitting or standing next to it. And so on, and so on. Each owner would claim it was either haunted or cursed. Over time, people began to experiment. Some claimed that if a person were to close their eyes, and say Sir Daniel Gunn’s name out loud into it, he’d appear. No matter what time of day, or night—and bring forth a curse onto them and their families.

Sara savored the sweetness of her lollipop as she gazed at Clemens. A young black man sporting an SWU hat embroidered with the iconic knight emblem sat with a humorous expression toward her. As he sat a few rows away, donning a jacket identical to David’s. He smacked his lips, his eyes dancing with amusement as he watched her seductively enjoy the candy. He knew all too well that she harbored a deep crush on Clemens, finding the situation rather amusing. It was even more entertaining for him to witness her jealousy whenever other women caught his eye. That was Jacob. He was David’s best friend, they shared the same joking behavior, they also were part of the team. Together, they were fun to watch.

Another student stood before the display, stroking a thin goatee as he focused intently. He was a young, intelligent individual with a strong, athletic physique. His jet-black hair complemented a black t-shirt and blue jeans. Despite his somewhat nerdy tendencies, he was always deeply immersed in whatever task lay before him. He preferred solitude, but when he did speak, his words got the attention from all those around him. And when faced with a particularly challenging problem, he would don a pair of black-rimmed craft lenses, indicating his deep focus.

And that fine, educated specimen there was Derek. He was mine—well—when he would notice I was there...

David glanced around with curiosity, lost in his own thoughts. Meanwhile, Lynn absentmindedly played with her gum, twirling it around her finger as she sat fixated on the image of an owner and a framed piece. Across from them, a slim gentleman in a green hooded jacket and a t-shirt printed with a video game controller sat slouched in his chair, occupied in his illustration of a cartoon knight standing triumphantly over a grave, with the words ‘I LIVE YET AGAIN!’ written above. Evan was, kind of our real nerd in the bunch. He was—imaginative... Then again so was I.

Nancy began to write in her notebook ‘A darkness swept over them all, as they stood in shock by what had just occurred’.

Robert stood observing his audience. Some appeared slightly intrigued, while others—not quite. Most looked bored as all hell. He walked over and clicked the remote to turn off the screen. He then pulled the cord connected to it, allowing it to retract back into its roll. The lights were then turned back on. You guys just don’t seem to get it—but you will. He laughed, cracking a sinister smile as he stared back at everyone. He then walked casually to a tall, pointy object covered with a black drapery. I have a good friend uptown who deals in some, well, let’s just say extraordinary pieces. He was able to arrange a deal that I just couldn’t refuse.

Pulling the cloth, he revealed the object’s entirety. The mirror... Elevated by a sleek stand, the object appeared to almost defy gravity, giving it an otherworldly presence. Standing at an impressive seven feet tall, it dawned an unnerving aura of intimidation, as the lights seemed to make its smooth glass surface glow. All who beheld it were suddenly captivated by its immense presence, unable to tear their gaze away. With its metal frame reflecting each detailed figure carved into it, the angels and demons surrounding its border, all displayed peculiar features and expressions. Some appeared sorrowful, their faces almost weeping, while others seemed to be laughing or glaring in anger at one another. Below them, knights fought on horseback, each executing an action with an item in hand, ranging from a variety of pointed weapons, to country and clan flags held high that waved in ripples. The great war appeared as if the gods above them were simply mimicking their violent actions—or simply puppeteering them...

One figure stood out among the rest, unmistakably Sir Daniel. Emblazoned in the exact armor depicted on David's patch, complete with a helmet featuring a long lock of hair swaying atop. The space between the figures was skillfully etched with swirling clouds and lines, forming Celtic designs reminiscent of those that were on Gunn’s actual armor. Sara’s eyes widened in shock as her lollipop stick jutted out. Jacob’s face remained with a troubling blank as he stared into the mirror. Swiftly, Derek put on his glasses to get a closer look. David’s jaw dropped in disbelief, and Lynn abruptly ceased her loud chewing to find she too had been immersed by the object’s startling display. Both she and Nancy suddenly exchanged glances before turning back to the menacing plaque. Even Evan, who had been absorbed in drawing, now leaned forward with anticipation.

The room’s vibe had now turned to an unsettlingly tense state from its now heavily cautious spectators.   

Robert grinned proudly as he well captured their attentions this time. And with a swift clap of his hands he then broke the boding silence. So, who’s willing to say his name!? Or is it just a folklore? A fable? A campsite tale, even?

Light whispers fluttered among the room. David then raised a hand. Robert nodded, allowing him to speak. Yeah, but...like, you don’t believe it’s true. Right?

Robert smiled again. I don’t know. I mean, here we are, aren’t we? They all either laughed or persecuted Galileo. Who we all know as the father of modern physics, as he became more intrigued with how things worked in this world. As mad or crazy as people thought him to be, he was able to prove his theories. We still use his principles today.

You have to remember. The majority of god-fearing people did not believe in such things as physics, or science at the time. They believed in God, and the devil. Anything outside that was considered evil, or the devils doing.

Hell, going back, skeptics laughed when there were discussions on such topics as wild and taboo as the electronic voice phenomenon. In the world of paranormal. EVP as we know it today. Simple audio impressions taken from ghosts, which were said by some to also, not exist. He paced the room. People during that time certainly laughed, and downright denied that it was possible. That is—until scholars started finding real recordings. Recordings of voices from those—who were not physically present.

He paused dramatically, surveying the room with a piercing gaze. All eyes were fixed on him, or on the mysterious object shimmering in the background. His gaze then shifted to David, who appeared visibly disturbed by what he saw. Mr. Ethridge. Would you care to be our first subject, to test this—little theory of mine today?

Anxiously, David scanned the room before locking eyes with Robert. His gaze then shifted back and forth between him and the dreaded object. Umm, I think I’m gonna pass on that, sir.

Robert laughed. Why David—a big, strong man like yourself isn’t afraid of a little old mirror...are you? What was it you said earlier? Urban Legends have no clout here.

David sighed. I just...I just don’t want to. That’s all. He looked around as some students began to giggle.

Sara raised a hand. I’ll do it!, she said with excitement.

Well, okay then. Looks like someone has a little more courage than one of our very own VARSITY MEMBERS!, Robert yelled with sarcasm.

Jacob smacked his lips again. Man. You pussy! He threw a wad of paper hitting the back of David’s head.

What!? I just don’t wanna do it—that’s all! He turned to his friend. I don’t see you going up there?

Pfft, he didn’t call on me., Jacob replied, shaking his head in disappointment.

Lynn nudged Nancy. Yeah, she’s got a little more of something, alright. Am I right?

Sara heard. She looked back, rolling her eyes as she continued down the steps toward Robert and the mirror. She began to examine its clever design. Reaching out to feel its texture, to then stop. May I?

He nodded, giving the okay. She placed her delicate hand over one of the angelic winged carvings, slowly moving over to the wickedly rendered demons, to giving a flirtatious smile. It’s very cold.

Robert gave a light nod. Well, it is meta...

Suddenly, he was interrupted as the lights flickered and a loud booming rumble erupted, almost shaking the room. Eyes scurried everywhere in confusion. Sara jumped in disbelief, with her heart racing. But not Robert. He seemed—surprisingly calm—unfazed amidst the confusion.

Well, that was strange. Wasn’t it?, he turned back to her.

She spun nervously at him, then back to the mirror, nervously studying her reflection. Yeah—that was strange.

I wouldn’t worry. It’s probably just from the storm outside. Minor power surge., he casually responded.

She nodded to a quick laugh, feeling relieved. Oh yeah, that’s right. The storm. I forgot about that.

He then leaned into her. You know—you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to. I just want to test a theory.

She gave a tense smile. No, it’s fine. It’s just—a mirror. Right, guys? She glanced back at the class. Every eye was transfixed on her and the mirror now. As another disturbing hush fell over everyone, an anticipation and a dreadful foreboding filled the room once more. The youths edged their seats, captivated by the unknown.

Sara sighed, taking a deep breath.

Okay, here goes nothing.

She closed her eyes and loudly said. Sir Daniel Gunn! The lights immediately flickered again, to going out completely. Her eyes opened just in time to see Sir Daniel’s reflection suddenly emerge from a spiraling green cloud.

HAHAHAHAHA! Sara Lee, your end is near! The entire class violently jumped from their seats, panicked as the deep cackling took over the room with a heavy ambience.

FUCK THIS!, David swiftly hurdled over several rows, quickly storming out the double doors.

Roger Wyatt, the janitor, calmly walked a hallway in his maintenance uniform and baseball cap. As he disposed of some garbage, he was engaged in conversation with Matthew Blackford, the school’s dean. A celebrated gentlemen with silver hair and a dark, grayish-brown mustache that extended into a beard. He could be a stern man, but past his harshness was a gentle caring elderly fellow that only wanted the best for every one of his fellow staff and his students. What the hell? ... Roger’s brows suddenly raised.  

The two men abruptly halted in their tracks,