User:Garionepsilon/UnBooks:The Day of Reckoning

Prologue

It was the final hour of the night. Nothing moved, nothing stirred. Nothing dared, for the night was so calm. Just a few more seconds, and the new year would begin.

People flooded the streets, standing and waiting. Watching the giant clock that stood like a needle in the centre of the city. The clock slowly rotated the second hand. Everyone in the square held their breath. Nobody dared to move or breathe for fear of waking up from the dream. The dream that the nightmare might be finally over, that a new year would begin, and they would all be saved.

The second hand had reached ten. A little girl cried. Her mother slapped her across the face, anxiously watching the clock. The girl fell over, and lay still.

The hand had reached five. Slowly it reached four, and then three, and then two, and then...

It stopped. The entire square was silent. The ticking had stopped. The clock had stopped. The world had stopped.

The screams of the night began again. All the people ran for their lives, ran into houses and doorways. they all ran from the fear they could see. The fear that they must suffer for another year.

The clock's second hand whizzed around and around, before flying off at a tangent and impaling several men against the wall. The minute and hour hands slowly arranged themselves into eyebrows on the face of the clock. Two hands on robotic arms shot out from the sides of the clock. Slowly, it lifted itself off of the ground, and began chasing and stomping on the people below.

The nightmare had just started.

Chapter One

Jeril woke up to the sound of music. He slammed his hand down on the alarm next to him, but the music kept playing. Slowly he raised himself up from his bed to peer out of the window. In the distance, the giant clock was still rampaging across the city, and dark shadows flew across the clouded purple sky.

Jeril clasped his hands onto his face and breathed deeply. It had not worked. The nightmare was still going. The music must be another trick to keep everyone awake, awake to the horror that they had placed on themselves.

Slowly Jeril struggled out of his bed and left his cluttered room. He made his way downstairs, where his mother was crying into the kitchen table. He patted her shoulder affectionately, but she continued to cry. Shrugging, he went over to the fridge and retrieved a bottle of milk. he drank half of it and threw the rest down the sink. It would only become sour the next morning.

In the corner of the kitchen, his sister was hugging her tiny knees and rocking back and forth. She had never been the same since their father had left them. jeril went over and tried to hug her, but she kept rocking herself back and forth, her eyes fixed straight ahead.

The living room contained only a television and a bookshelf; the rest of it was cluttered with rubbish and dirty laundry. Jeril picked his way through the mess to sit in front of the television. It was still broadcasting the same slogan "It's all your fault" against the backdrop of the city clock. The same message was burned into every television, and was repeated on every radio wavelength. It is all your fault. And it was true, everyone was at fault. If the whole world had just decided to get along, then it would never have turned into the world it is now. A world full of monsters, demons, and Grues.

Jeril tried to change the channel a couple of times, but to no avail. The slogan never changed. He got up and walked back into the kitchen. His sister and mother had not moved since he had left.

"I'm sorry, mother." Jeril sat next to his mother and patted her arm. "I know that our praying didn't work, but look on the bright side. There's always next year. Maybe then...this will all be over."

His mother ignored him and continued to cry. Jeril stood up, suddenly angry.

"You can't just sit here and cry. Who is going to stop this? Who will try and stop all of the pain, the suffering, the nightmares? Who? Somebody has to stand up to the darkness. Wil it be you? No, nobody has the guts to stand and fight."

Jeril's sister had stopped rocking, and was now paying him attention. Even his mother had silenced her sobbings to listen.

"I'm not going to just sit here and wait for the world to end for God, just because he things we deserve to face our nightmares." Jeril clenched and unclenched his fists. "I'm going to try and put and end to this. I'm going to fight."

"No." Jeril's mother spoke to him for the first time in a month. "Don't go, Jeril. We need you. If you go, you will only..."

"I know I may end up like Dad." Jeril stood his ground defiantly. "I know that I may die. But that will not stop me putting up a fight!"

With that sentence, jeril bounded out of the kitchen and up the stairs to his room. he had been planning to go out and fight the monsters since his father had died. At first, when the year was nearing his end, he had thought that maybe he did nto need to fight. But now it was clear. He had to save the world. Save the world from its own nightmares.

Once inside his bedroom, Jeril opened up his drawers and pulled out his backpack. He checked that he had enough supplies, and put it on. He rummaged through his wardrobe and found an old cloak to keep him warm throughout the night. Finally, he reached under his bed and pulled out his father's gun. He had found it in his parent's room; his father must have forgotten it the day he died. Jeril loaded it and placed it in his pocket.

Before walking out of his bedroom, Jeril checked himself in the mirror. He saw a traumatised teenager with dark hair and pasty skin, with gaunt eyes and a thin mouth. A year before this, he was a healthy, happy teenager with a promising life ahead of him. Now, he may not live to see tommorow.

Sighing at the past, Jeril walked out of his bedroom, down the stairs, and out of the front door into the world of darkness.