Falling Noon (The Incubus Chronicles #1)

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A tale about love, trust, and betrayal. In the state of Alaska in the year 2011, Christian, a 19-year-old loner meets Allison, an 18-year-old redhead in an empty park during cold weather. As time, passes, the two soon form bond, eventually becoming romantic, as well as sexual. She is also befriended by few (if not, some) of the students around college-campus; that is except for Ted Madden, a young man whom had been attacked and nearly killed in the forest. Could there be more to Allison than meets the eye? This is the first book in a Gothic trilogy revolving around the supernatural. it is an over-arching tale involving friendship, love, trust, and betrayal.

Fantasy / Horror
Liam Barath-Lane
3.0 1 review
Age Rating:

White Isn't a Color

The temperature was below ten, as it usually was; the streets were covered in snow.

The drug store was open. Bright lights were still on inside, but the parking lot was empty; that was until one car came in. As soon as turning off the headlights, the person inside stepped out, his head and face covered. Slamming his door shut, he walked and entered. Except the pharmacy, the place was empty as well. As the person removed the winter gear from his face, revealing his teen appearance, he walked over to it. He stood in front of the counter and waited.

As soon as she noticed him, a pharmacist finally showed up; she was obviously in her thirties, “How can I help you?”

The young man dug his hand into his jacket pocket. Taking it out, he held in it an asthma inhaler. With it in his hand, the woman looked at both him and it blankly. He took a breath, “I need a refill … please.”

“Ran out of air that quickly?” She asked in establishment. The young man slightly exhaled, “’might only have a day of it left.” She turned away, “On it,” walking over to the cabinets.

The young man stepped back away from the counter and took a chill. He leaned back against the wall an inch on the right; both hands in his pants pockets.

A minute later, the doors of the entrance opened, and another person came in. He stepped inside and looked around, only from the distance; and it made him look like a statue from that far. He walked and came forth in between the shelves, staring off at the medicine set on them; he had ginger hair and a scarf hanging tightly around his neck. When he made it to the counter (his breathing causing his torso to vibrate), with the other guy looking to him, the pharmacist came back. And by the second she turned to face (holding a small blue bottle container in between three of her fingers, and thumb, of her right hand), she paused, having the reaction of witnessing company.

“Oh,” she peeped, leaning and looking to the other young man. She raised the bottle, “I have it.”

After lifting himself off from the wall, the young man reached and grabbed the bottle.

“Excuse me,” he said to the other guy, whom, in which, did so. “I’ll let you know when I can use another,” he said to the pharmacist.

“I’m hoping that won’t be too soon,” she responded before setting her attention to the other person.

Before dozing off, the young man, with his head turned around, kept his attention on the redhead. And just so he and the woman would not notice him, the young man walked out through the door, keeping his eyes open through the window. He could not read their lips however. But whatever they were chatting about, it only lasted for five seconds. Before heading back to his car, he slotted the container in his inhaler.

An hour later, after parking his car in the driveway of his house, leaving it in between the two sidewalk roads, the young man went for a walk; he went on the left-hand side of the street, keeping his breather in the front pocket of his heavy sweater. While that happened, he came across a sound, a small creaking one. He tried going over to it, tried finding out the cause. Initially, he did, and the sound enhanced. It sounding like tree branches twisting together. Actually, when he walked even closer, it sounded more like metal — or steel. For the sake of theory, the young man’s, it could have been an abandoned bicycle; the petals being the cause. He could barely see, since hardly any street lights were on, but he could still tell where he was going. But, as soon as reaching the last block, some things appeared: a slide, a seesaw, and other fun objects, including a good old swing set; and yet, to the young man’s surprise, there was someone on it.

The person wasn’t really swinging on it, but, more moving on it back and forth with their foot, and it was barely clear what he or she was wearing; a black jacket and hood it looked like.

The young man walked steadily around the right, and, thankfully, he managed it pretty well. Not one step caught the person’s attention; they didn’t even look up at any point. He was three inches away from the person. And taking a step, his shoe crunched against the snow. He got closer, only one inch away. The person was wearing a black hood; that was the reason he couldn’t tell the gender. As soon as that, he made a move, tried grabbing attention. “Excuse me?”

The person then cocked his or her head; it was a girl. From the look of it, she had the same hair color as the guy from the drugstore; it was a lot darker though, looking as if dyed that way. The young man could tell; it was hanging from under her hood and down on her shoulders.

“Oh,” the young man said while stunned, “H-hi.”

The girl curled her lips in response, “Hi.” That first word she said back to him; it was soft pitch.

The young man continued to speak, “What’re … you … doing way out here?” She wiped off her smirk, “Is there a problem?” Wrong impression, he thought. “Well, it’s just — it’s the temperature of a freezer out here, and you’re — playing.”

“Yes,” she responded in confidence. “I am.”

“Well,” he concluded. “If that makes you comfortable, on the other hand, then …” Automatically, he switched to another sentence. “I’m — a — I’m Christian.”

“You’re religious?”

“No,” he chuckled. “My name — is.”

“Oh, I’m … sorry.”

“Oh, no, no,” he insisted. After those last three words, he fetched out his inhaler. “Is it … okay … if … I ask you yours?” He slotted the tube in and pressed the air inside. She didn’t make a grin, but she kept her good and stillness.

“Mine is Allison.”

The young man paused with his interaction. “Allison,” he repeated in a slight whisper. “That’s — an original one.”

“Really?” She responded in question.

“Well, it’s just … I don’t hear the name that often.

“Oh,” she said, turning her head a notch.

“I didn’t say it’s not cute,” he established.

Allison turned her head back to him and grinned a second time, nodding a thank you. From as pleased as he looked, and as he was, his attention went somewhere else.

“Hey, um, you wouldn’t have a watch, would you?”

Allison hesitated, “I don’t own one.”

Christian dug his hand in his pants pocket. Pulling it out, he happened to have a touch-screen cellphone. He pressed his thumb on the front button. “Wow — already 11:30.”

“Yeah,” She exclaimed.

Christian stuffed the phone back in. “How long are you planning on staying here, doing what you’re doing … or … what you’re barely doing?”

Realizing what he meant, Allison looked at both chains of the swing she was on. “Oh, it’s just, I swing … only when it’s warm, and when it’s cold, I do this.”

“Well, um, how much longer do you plan on doing what you’re doing?”

Allison waited few seconds to answer. “On the other hand, time is passing. It is late.”

“Well, in that case, I can ... I mean ... if you want to, I can ... take you home.” Instead of a verbal response, she smiled and nodded. He seemed speechless; he was breathing heavily. He inhaled, intending to get something out, clapped his hands below his belt, and rubbed them together. As the cold made his breath visible, he turned and walked; almost like a penguin. A second later, he turned back to her; she was still on the hanging seat.

“’you coming or what?” Christian asked with both his hands up.

“Oh, uh-huh.” She got off and caught up to him. The next minute, they were both aside each other. A few minutes past and they were still talking.

“So, might I ask where you’re from?” Christian asked.

Allison licked her lips. “I’d like to answer that — if you do for yourself.”

“Oh, um ... okay.” He paused. “I’m actually from Colorado. Me and my folks ... we moved away five years ago. For the obvious reason, they moved to another place.”


“Maine,” Christian answered, “Way on the other side of the country. Since I became an adult at the time, they decided we should go on our own, live our own ways.” He looked to her, “Do you even know what I’m talking about?”

“Adolescence,” Allison said firmly.

“Yeah,” he exclaimed, “Yeah, that’s right. Yeah, I became, you know, my own man that time and they moved ... on.”

“That sounds interesting.”

“Um, yeah, I guess. How old are you?”

“How about you first?”

“Nineteen,” he said with a deep breath. He took another and waited for her to answer. She kept her eyes on the walking path, “I’m eighteen.” He looked as if he was about to crack a smile; in which he did, while taking a one-second exhale. “Real nice. Granted, you don’t look so, but a lot younger.”

“How young?”

“Like — thirteen or fourteen. I’m not a pedophile. And, hypothetically, I don’t want to look like one.”

Allison took a breath, “I am an adult. I’m one just as much as you and anyone else.”

“That’s good to know,” he responded, nodding.

Allison had a blank expression, up until the last block they arrived on. She then stopped. Spotting her, Christian did the exact same. Where they were, what it looked like, was a centered neighborhood; and it was. Christian gazed off, “This is where you live …” He nodded, “Neat.”

Allison raised her arm and pointed her index finger at the house straight in front of them, “That’s it, right over there.”

Christian stared off in observation. “I thought it’d look — like a big one — and it does.”

Thanks,” Allison said. She walked forward to it as he watched; as if waiting for something else. “I hope you won’t wake up your folks. Do they even know you’re out?” She paused, “They’re out of town at the time.”

“That being how long?”

“A couple weeks. My brother should be home soon.” Christian looked like he was staring into space, “You have a brother?”

“Should I have told you sooner?”

“It’s no big deal. I just … didn’t know you have one.”

“Well ... uh ... goodnight,” he said to her as she made another move on entering the house.

But before even touching the front door, Allison looked back in seconds and turned around while cracking a smile, “I’ll see you during the daytime.” For three seconds, she looked up at the sky behind him. He turned head around and looked the same way. But when he turned it back, she was gone within a finger snap. For which, he looked down and confused. Then, right before leaving himself, Christian immediately took a walk up those steps.

And as soon as Christian knocked on the door, Allison turned and pulled it back open, this time appearing from its dim entrance.

“You didn’t tell me where you’re from.”

“I’m from Canada,” she said while carrying a mild smirk, right before having it fade away.

“Canada?” Christian repeated, after a pause. She nodded to him with yet another mild smirk. To which, he widened his mouth while sinking his tongue into his right cheek, “Ah.”

“Good night,” she said, just before stepping backwards and then slowly pushing the door back shut. Christian then took one last gaze at it, just before turning his head right and walking on his way.

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