Dark Muse (34 page)

Coming Soon…

The next tale of “The Accidentals”

As Muddy dreamed of performing on a massive
connection of paths, on a stage which reached out to the north,
south, east and west, farther than any eye could see, something
looked back at him.

Many sets of eyes sought him out as he played
a Jimi Hendrix song, one he knew would become part of his next
adventure. Still, sweat beaded on his skin as the strange glares
began to burn at his flesh.

He opened his eyes and the song ended
abruptly. Zack? Did he have something to do with this?

Awaking had been its own adventure lately.
First, the dream of his mother, second, Zack’s disappearance, and
then the crazy times across the River. He had a bad feeling about
this one and somehow knew everything they had just endured was
nothing compared to what lie ahead. His band—The Accidentals. They
needed to change it back before Zack became strong enough.

Could they?

The moment they met in Muddy’s basement, he
tore into the band, immediately regretting his words. They were
likely just as scared as he was—or should have been. All had
answered his text message and arrived within the hour.

“Did someone cross over?” Muddy fumed. “If
someone did and left the door open again—”

“No,” Poe said, her voice quivering a bit.
“Someone
opened
the door.”

“On this side?” Otis already twirled his
sticks. “Or the other?”

Muddy turned back towards his home.

Zack.

“Does it matter? The door is open and you
remember what happened last time that happened. But that’s not all.
I have the strangest sense that many more nightmares are headed our
way.”

Otis turned left and right. “For us? Coming
after us?”

Poe faced westbound. “Does it matter? I had
the dream too. That’s twice, now, that we’ve shared a dream.”

“Of crossroads?
Our
crossroads?” Corey
finally opened his mouth. He had only talked when he needed to but
now Muddy knew he thought of one thing, one person. He prayed she
was truly alive.

“Maybe she found a way to come here.”

Muddy had begun to shake his head as if some
being from the other side had invaded his skull. “No. No,” he said
to himself and then louder. “No. This is worse.” He nearly dropped
his guitar when his hands shook too much. Whether it was out of
fear or anger, he couldn’t tell. “No, someone
invited
them.”

“Them?” Poe gripped his hand. He wished to
hold her close, but didn’t. The foreboding that something would rip
apart everything they knew squeezed at his heart like a vise.

“Them. Plural.”

The air around them shimmered. Something or
someone was coming through.

By the time Muddy raced to the hospital his
worst fears were confirmed. Zack no longer lay in his bed. Only
empty sheets remained.

He brought back his brother but had he saved
him? Something else returned with him. Something that he knew would
wind up destroying all Muddy knew and loved.

A strange sensation washed over him as he
realized he had been duped. “No, no!” He sprinted as fast as he
could to the house and bolted down the stairs to where he left the
band.

The rehearsal room stood devoid of any of his
friends. All the remained was a now familiar cross shape. The edges
around it still shook and when he looked inside, he nearly jumped
back up the stairs.

No, his friends. Zack. His father.
Everything. He bit back his fear and ran forward with all his
might.

When the world stopped spinning, he opened
his eyes to discover something worse than he could ever
imagine.

No, not here. Not now. We’re dead already—we
just don’t know it.

In the distance, he noticed that the basement
was still visible as the shimmering began to fade. All of band’s
instruments, the special ones, lay on the floor where they’d likely
dropped them.

As he felt the sweat run down his arm, his
heart bursting through his chest, he realized fate had given him a
sliver of hope.

His hands clutched his own guitar. But what
could he do? Especially here.

Zack, or what was left of him, had sent the
band far away. Far enough for those who lived beneath the River to
awaken and travel to his world.

What it took in return frightened him
more.

This time, he thought, the music might not be
enough to save any of them.

About the Author

David Simms now lives in the Shenandoah
Valley of Virginia with his wife, newborn son and two furballs
after escaping New Jersey and Massachusetts. A special education
teacher, college English instructor, counselor, music therapist and
book reviewer, he moonlights in the Slushpile band on lead guitar
with F. Paul Wilson, Heather Graham and Alexandra Sokoloff,
performing across the country. His short stories have been
published in various anthologies and he is currently working on the
sequel to Dark Muse and a historical thriller about one of the
country's darkest secrets.

Feel free to email him about Dark Muse,
music, books, or life at
davidsimmsmuse.com

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