Chapter 1
A crepuscule is a beautiful progression. Cotton thin clouds were draped across a vibrant warm sunset. Silhouettes of distant birds elegantly swooped as they called in their almost melancholic music. The fresh odour of rain washed over Matthew's olfactory senses.
Matthew Peter Gates was visiting his isolated aunt who lived on Miller Hill, which was in the middle of nowhere. Miller Hill was named such because there used to be an 1840's mill but had been burnt down. It was said that a group of rowdy boys had been playing with a shard of a broken mirror on a sweltering summer day near the mill and had accidentally lit the fire. All that was left was a charred misshapen patch on the side of the hill. Even eight-year-old Matthew would, without a doubt, agree of its scorchingly horrible ugliness.
This was Matthew's fifth time meeting this aunt and the first time that he drove and was by himself. Her name was Aunt Ava and she was a welcoming woman but was incredibly fussy over her beverages and sitting comforts. Sometimes Matthew couldn't help but believe that Aunt Ava could tell if he put an extra drop, or two, of milk in her tea, he would be toasted and served with poached eggs and an excessive amount of sliced avocado on one of her beautifully delicate china dishes.
Nightfall had arrived. The stars were out. They twinkled on a canvas of dark navy blue with a sickly wan moon. Matthew could almost feel the exciting uncertainty of his near future. An open mouth hinged agape in the mountain. It seemed to invite him in, as silly and childish as it sounds.
Matthew felt as though that maybe, he shouldn't have to enter the tunnel. But at that moment, he felt almost invincible. That nothing could prevent him from doing what he wanted.
So he let the blackness enclose around him almost like a suffocating blanket as he sped into the tunnel.
