Dark Eyes

[telescope_eyes]

Hi everybody! This story features AVRIL LAVIGNE, DERYCK WHIBLEY, EVAN TAUBENFELD, DEVIN BRONSON...and maybe others in the future?

It reads like a story, but is kind of like a television show (I think you all will figure out where I got this idea ). There will be "commercial breaks," previews for the next "episode," and *fingers crossed* regular update times.

Now I present the opening of "Dark Eyes."

*Presented in HD* (hehe)

Prologue: Unsettling Suburbia

It’s 3:23 a.m. in the suburb of Forrest Chase and all is quiet. Not even a dog dares to bark and disturb the peacefulness.

Forrest Chase is quaint, just the average kind of suburb with cookie-cutter houses, SUVs, and kids that play in the front yard. Sandwiched between the borders of Marietta and Cobb Counties, Georgia, it’s an ideal location for people who want the hustle and bustle of the city and the comfort of suburbia at the same time.

These people are asleep in their beds, snug and safe. They can’t imagine the debacle about to occur right outside their windows.

They wouldn’t want to know.

They’re content to stay in their unsuspecting bubbles.

Preview: Next time on "Dark Eyes"...just what terror lurks outside Forrest Chase? Meet Avril Lavigne and Deryck Whibley and learn what they must do to stop it...

[elastics.]

Oh my. I was attracted to this because I'm like obsessed with eyes. They are totally the windows to the soul.

Anyway, this sounds cool! Do continue and fill us in on the "show" details!

[Rudylover]

this is great please continue

[ThePrincess]

Great! Continue it. I can't wait to see what happens next...

[telescope_eyes]

*Presented commercial free*

Episode One: Unrest

Something is not right here.

It is this thought that persists in Sasha Farra’s mind. While the rest of Forrest Chase is sleeping, she is awake in her pink-and-lace bedroom, fighting for sleep.

…But something is not right.

She jabs at the alarm clock on the nightstand, turning it to face her. 3:28 a.m.

Pitiful, she thinks. She groans, tosses off the duvet cover, and slips out of the bed. Her feet sink into soft carpet and she stands as though rooted to the spot.

She feels a breeze on her arms and goosebumps pop up along her skin. The source is the cracked bedroom window, the white curtain fluttering.

That must be the source of my discomfort, Sasha decides and shuts it with a bang.

She rests her elbows on the window sill and stares out into the dark woods. This cluster of dense trees is where the neighborhood draws its name from. As a child, Sasha had been naturally pulled to them, the curiosity often overwhelming her and pulling her to their depths. She had only succeeded in exploring them once for a few minutes before her father had called her out of them.

“Don’t go in those woods,” he had warned her. “They’re dangerous, especially for a little girl like you.”

But Sasha has never not wondered about the forest. The curiosity of a child still takes over sometimes and causes her to stare into the crowded gaps between the trees, as she is now.

They’re darker than night itself, she muses. Anyone could hide there and you’d never know. I bet—

Her breath catches in her throat.

There’s movement between the trees. Subtle, vague, and just for a second, but it was there.

Sasha narrows her eyes, straining for another glimpse, a clue as to what the movement was. Was it just my imagination?

There! Again! An outline of something slightly less dark than the trees—is it a human? Animal?—moves.

Of course it’s an animal, she assures herself. I’m overreacting. I’ve been squinting for almost ten minutes. My eyes are strained. I’m making something out of nothing.

All the same, the reassurance is only complete when the window is locked. She shuts the curtains with a snap.

Sasha returns to her bed, the thick cotton sheets providing a deterrent against bad thoughts of the shapes in the woods.

The clock reads 3:38 a.m.

She sighs. Four more hours and she has to be up, ready, and packed. Her flight back to college in Johns Hopkins leaves at eight.

She has been on Thanksgiving break, the school-free week now at a close. Not that it had been very eventful. Sasha and her father have been the only ones since her mother had passed away when she was six. She doesn’t remember her mother well, only that she had long, golden hair like Sasha.

It bothers her that she doesn’t remember much else. Shouldn’t all girls have fond memories of their mothers?

Despite that, she and her father are quite happy together. They are both quietly intelligent, enjoy jazz, and love to read. John Farra is a research scientist for the government so they’re well off. Piqued with interest by her father’s mysterious scientific work, Sasha is following in his footsteps and pursuing a medical degree at his alma mater.

She smiles as she recalls the discussion they had had over a dinner of leftover Thanksgiving food. John had told her funny stories about his years at Johns Hopkins, and then they’d had a playful debate over biotechnology.

Thinking of the happy memory, Sasha begins to drift to sleep.

The movement in the woods is far from her mind.

* * * * *

“Do you think she saw us?” The speaker turns to his companion, a short, balding man.

“Perhaps,” the short man replies enigmatically.

The other, a tall and much younger man, shivers. “But we’re all in black and it’s dark.”

“Do you forget the research?” the short man says patiently. “It is not hard to conceive that she could see us.”

They both peer up from their sylvan hiding place at the window where Sasha Farra had stood moments before.

The younger man jumps at the sound of a stick snapping. “Can we go? I’m getting the heebie jeebies standing out here.”

The short man pulls up his black sleeve and checks his digital watch. “3:40 a.m. Let’s move.”

Grinning, they yank black ski masks over their heads and move toward the house.

* * * * *

Avril Lavigne sits in the vast kitchen of her Los Angeles mansion. Perched on a kitchen stool at the marble countertop, she brushes her bare toe against the cold tiled floor.

She has not bothered to turn on any lights. At first, she could only see the microwave clock blinking 12:32 a.m., but her eyes have grown accustomed to the lack of light. She takes in the sight of dirty dishes piled in the sink and a sprinkle of crumbs on the breadboard.

Anything is better than this, she thinks.

“Av? Hey Av?” Soft footsteps patter on the tile.

The kitchen light flicks on, showering the room into sudden harsh light. Avril mutters curse words under her breath and covers her eyes with her arms.

Deryck Whibley touches his wife on the shoulder. “Av, honey, what are you doing sitting here in the dark?” He smiles. “Are you a rabbit or something?”

Avril whips around. “What the hell are you talking about?”

He steps back, stunned at her tone. “Um, well, you know…they say rabbits have really good night vision…”

“I’m not a rabbit. This isn’t Alice in Wonderland. And warn me next time you turn the damn lights on.” She turns away.

“Okay, Avril.” Deryck pulls out the stool beside her and sits. “What’s your problem? All you do lately is lash out at me.”

“Don’t worry about it.” She stares at the countertop, trying to find a clear reflection of herself.

He holds out his hands, palms up. “How can I not? You’re my wife. I love you. Did you hear that? I love you.” He slides an arm around her waist. “Why don’t you just tell me what’s wrong so we can fix it together?”

Avril shrugs his arm off. She shuts her eyes and thinks. I should tell him. He could help me. No! She shakes her head. He’ll think I’m a freak. He won’t believe me! It’s better if he doesn’t know and thinks it’s something else.

“Just leave me alone,” she mutters, “I wish you’d leave me alone.”

Deryck grits his teeth, bracing himself to say some hurtful remark, but nothing comes. “You should be careful what you wish for.”

He flips the light off on his way out.

Avril resumes staring at the clock.

It is 12:40 a.m.

* * * * *

“I don’t get her, I really don’t,” Deryck mumbles. He sits on the edge of their bed.

He can’t pinpoint exactly when his marriage started to fail. Was it around the second anniversary when he bought her the ‘wrong’ present? She had been dropping hints about diamonds for months, but when he had bought her ring from Tiffany’s, she had commented how a dozen roses and something thoughtful would’ve been fine.

Or maybe a few months ago, when he suggested they have a baby?

Frustrated and unwilling to think on it anymore, Deryck reaches under the mattress and grabs the bottle of sleeping pills. They’ve been helping him out for weeks now.

He’s been having these dreams. Crazy dreams where he’s tumbling through nothing, wind is rushing past his ears so rapidly it makes a whistling noise and rips his hair back from his face…then he sees trees and houses and streetlights and he’s approaching the ground so fast, but before he hits…he’s sailing up, up into the air…

Deryck shakes his head. Avril would tell me I’m stupid. Crazy. A freak.

For good measure, he shakes out more pills than necessary and dry swallows them.

He doesn’t intend to dream tonight.

It is 12:38 a.m.

Next week: What is bothering Avril and Deryck? Who are the strange men outside Sasha's house, and what do they want? And...why is Evan pulling a Sixth Sense and seeing dead people?

[ThePrincess]

Wow Awesome writtin'... Love it.

[telescope_eyes]

Thanks! I'll update soon when more people comment!

[waitingxforxyou]

This is a really cool idea, and I'd like to see where it goes. It's nice to see new people here.

Update soon!

[iva.vilovic32]

wow!!that's great!!continue with the writting!!

[elastics.]

This is sort of starting to get creepy...in the best way possible, of course

[waitingxforxyou]

How many more comments do you want? And are you gonna update tonight?