Swedenborg - That Novel - Chapter 1

Decades ago I began a Christian horror novel. Because it was based on a couple of ideas about mental illness and the souls of the dead promulgated by Swedish Lutheran theologian, scientist, philosopher and mystic Emmanuel Swedenborg, the working title for the book has been "Swedenborg." I've also called it "INS" - the evil agency in the book is called the Institute  for Noumenal Studies

I worked on it off and on. Mostly off.

As I've grown in my faith, there are portions of the book with which I grew uncomfortable. I started revising, then began questioning if I should even continue. Then as I tried to clean it up I added characters and tangents. It became more preachy than fictional. I lost a sense of direction for it.

Every time I read Tolkien's "Leaf By Niggle" I'm reminded of what happened.

So I now have a mess of about 38,000 words. I know how it ends, but getting to that end is a problem.

I'm going to start revising it. I'm going to trim/revise certain scenes, and eliminate some of those characters and tangents. Let's see if I can save it. 

Here's Chapter 1.

Chapter 1

 

    Maria Quinones eyed the overcast skies as she locked the insurance office door.

    She wasn't worried about rain. Rain had been a daily part of Carthage's spring that year.

    It was the darkness that scared her.

    Even though it was only 7 p.m., the clouds had turned the street into a river of blackness and shadows, broken only by ripples of light beneath the street lights.

    Maria did not scare easily. But these were not normal times. Not with what had been happening in the last few months.

    What had possessed Mr. Everett to ask her to stay late?

    But she couldn’t say no. He really was a good boss. He paid her well, with regular bonuses.

    In fact, last Christmas, one of those bonuses had paid for Rafe's gold chain.

    How Rafe had loved that.

    How loving he'd been that night.

    And Rafe was coming over tonight as soon as he got off duty as a security guard. He was in a particularly good mood these days after being accepted at the police academy.

    But when Mr. Everett had asked her to finish the filing that night, she had said yes. The district manager was coming the next day to nose around, so it needed to be done.

    Besides, how could she have explained to Mr. Everett that she felt certain Rafe would ask her to marry him that very night. He'd been hinting for weeks, and tonight was the anniversary of their first date - just the kind of thing Rafe would remember. He'd even surprised her with a flower on the one-month anniversary of their first kiss.

     Normally, when she worked late she took the 7:30 bus that stopped in front of the office. Not tonight. She wanted to get to her apartment before Rafe got there. She wanted to change into the special dress she'd bought. She didn't want to keep Rafe waiting.

    So she had to walk two blocks to catch the 7:10 bus.

    Two blocks of alleys. Of shadows.

    She hurried along, the soft soles of her sneakers squeaking.

    As she walked, she was tense, listening.

    Then she heard it.

    A clicking sound.

    Maria hesitated - and a small dog ran out of the shadows, its nails tapping the sidewalk.

   Stupid, Maria said to herself.

   Still, she quickened her pace.

   She felt a flood of relief when she saw the bus pull up at the distant corner. It would stay there for a five minute layover. She suddenly felt no longer alone.

    Behind her, there was a click.

    Maria didn't turn. Maybe it was the dog again.

    Half a block to the bus. It looked like an oasis of light in the shadows. She could even make out the driver reading a newspaper as he sat.

    Another sound. This time to her left.

    She passed an alley, took a quick look into its blackness, and then walked even faster.

    A dark shape erupted from the shadows.

    A hand covered her mouth before she could scream. Another hand grabbed her arm and pulled her sharply.

    Back toward the alley.

    Maria tried to pull her face free. But the hand there just jerked her head back, throwing her off balance. She was no longer standing.

    She was being dragged.

    Then she saw the knife.

    She thought of Rafe waiting at her door.

   And as she thought his name, the knife thrust between her ribs into her heart.

   As the blade was pulled free, blood sprayed the sidewalk.

   The killer dragged her deeper into the bowels of the alley, placed her on her back, picked up the cleaver.

   One blow. The killer picked up his prize. He carefully, gently, shut her eyes, put her tongue back into her mouth. Closed it.

    So the face would set just right.

    Like the others.

 

Pax et bonum