Brightest Kind of Darkness - Opening Chapters (1 of 5)

Copyright P.T. Michelle 2011 - 2012

All Rights Reserved

I'll be posting the first five chapters of BRIGHTEST KIND OF DARKNESS. These introductory chapters posted here are for your enjoyment and aren't to be reposted elsewhere in any form. Thank you for your consideration. I hope you enjoy the chapters!

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P.T. Michelle

www.ptmichelle.com

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BRIGHTEST KIND OF DARKNESS

by P.T. Michelle

Chapter One

For me, being surprised was like wearing my best friend’s favorite shirt; cherished for its borrowed uniqueness. Some people loved potty humor. I loved watching life's surprises happening all around me. It was so rare that I got to experience them myself.

But after last night, I’ve decided I hate surprises.

Before I fell asleep, I’d whispered, “Can I just have one surprising day?” And four short hours later, I was zooming across an empty Walmart parking lot in my car, shoulders knotting with each spin of my wheels. “I should’ve defined ‘surprising’,” I muttered as I squealed to a stop in a parking spot. Grabbing my white-framed sunglasses, I jerked them toward my face, then slowly lowered the shades back to the dash. What was I thinking? The sun wasn’t even up yet.

Could I be wrong? I glanced at my mom’s favorite wool scarf sitting on top of my jacket in the passenger seat. I’d brought it for practical reasons, but I’d also wanted a part of her with me, as if her scarf riding shotgun meant she’d approve of my decision. How would she react if I was wrong and got arrested for reporting a false crime? Would she be shocked? Disappointed? Think I’ve lost my mind? Would she show any emotion? Or would she wait until the end of the day—after her last meeting was over—to check her messages and then come post my bail? It’d almost be worth the risk to find out.

With a heavy sigh, I cocooned myself in a layer of winter clothes. Halfway across the parking lot, sweat began to coat my skin under the thick jacket. The scratchy scarf only made it worse. All I could think about was clawing my irritated neck, but the building’s security cameras hung like gargoyle guardians nesting on the shoulders of a red and blue striped elephant. Tucking my chin into the scarf’s folds, I pulled my knit cap lower. I didn’t care if I looked like an idiot dressed like the boy from A Christmas Story in fifty-degree fall weather. Anonymity was my top priority.

Near the payphone, a blast of frigid air whisked dead leaves along the edge of the building, turning my sweat to chill bumps. Wind whistled and tunneled, pitching low and then high. “No!” brushed past my ear in a harsh, grating whisper, and the top layer of my hair charged, floating above the scarf. I froze and smacked my hair down as I scoured the area for the source. Wind and leaves battled the empty space on both sides of the building. My car sat alone in the dark lot, yet I couldn’t shake the feeling I was being watched…or reminded of the past.