The Chain
By C Belding
()
About this ebook
It starts on a stormy Friday at a local High School with the discovery of two bodies. The young man that discovers them has never spoken a single word his entire life, and who some believe, is in the upper echelon of genius. Curiously, his silence proves to be self-imposed - that is until he leads authorities to the bodies and suddenly speaks. Why he has chosen to speak after seventeen years of silence, is unknown. But when he starts to exhibit amazing powers using his mind, the FBI becomes interested by virtue of the startling information he is able to provide. Enter a forensic psychologist, who has dealt with others like him. What he refers to as "The Chain." A string of seventeen youths that have linked together the power of their minds so that they may fulfill a specific prophesy. To bring light to the past and to alter the future.
C Belding
All my stories are being released posthumously. Oh wait, I'm not dead - at least not yet. Been close a couple of times and perhaps that drives some of the subject matter I write about. Anyway, I have completed seventeen short stories - ten of which I've published at the time of this writing, and also a Novella. More to come. The novel on the other hand is the literary temple at which I worship. I've got quite a few of those too, which I will publish soon. They run the gamut from murder mysteries, ghost stories, quasi horror, love stories, haunting's, dark humor, and in many cases all of the above. Basically I write whatever shows up or I guess whatever's floating around my psyche. How it gets there and why I don't really know? And maybe that's the best part of all, the exploration. Starting with nothing and ending up with something. Any way, if you've read me, I am humbled and I am grateful. Thanks, C Belding
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The Chain - C Belding
The Chain
By
C Belding
Copyright © 2015 by Chet Belding
Smashwords Edition
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
Thank you for downloading this free ebook. Although this is a free book, it remains the copyrighted property of the author and may not be reproduced, copied, or distributed for any commercial or non-commercial purposes. If you enjoyed this book, please encourage your friends to download their own copy at Smashwords.com, where they may discover other works by this author. Thank you for your support and respect for the property of this author.
It had all begun in a sleepy little hamlet by the name of Peril, Pennsylvania, about an hour north of Philadelphia, right on the scenic and historic shores of a river called Delaware. The small town was host to all kinds of residents, artsy, conservative, liberal, shut-ins, shut-outs, loners, jocks, girls, boys, gossipers, husbands, wives, kids, etc, etc. But among those many different residents, only one stood out. Simply put, there was no one like him, and quite the unusual case. His name, Conner Rose.
Conner had grown into his seventeen years of life a mute. Originally his doctors had diagnosed his lack of voice, as a birthing mishap. Damaged vocal cords the likely culprit. But as the specialists mounted, a general consensus had been reached that his vocal cords were in fact, not damaged at all, and that his silence was instead, self-imposed.
The news had been both good and bad for his concerned parents. That their boy was perfectly capable of speaking. The only question of course was why wasn't he speaking when apparently he could. Enter the mental health professionals. There had been talk among them of something called selective mutism,
a fairly recent medical diagnosis, but of course, there was nothing select about his mutism – he simply didn't speak – at all. That being said, he did choose to communicate by pen and paper. He'd write down what he wanted to say, and answer the same way. And so it had been that way from the time he was three years old to the present.
A number of psychologists had spent time with Conner, studying him – of what they considered an oddity. They had tried and tried, but not one of the litany of Doctors had been able to coax a single word from his mouth. Even on the occasion when he hurt himself, he would remain eerily quiet. A cut requiring stitches – nothing. A broken hand – nothing. Even when he exerted himself – nothing. Not a sound.
In school he had done exceptionally well. Near the top of his class with little or no effort. His IQ, depending on who was counting, courted genius territory. And as to his extracurricular activities, he played sports, rode bikes, swam, ran, and just about everything else a normal
young man might do. He had even asked a girl out once using his perennial paper and pen. But sadly, she had declined his offer since she was of the chatty type. Although having a silent partner does allow one to chat it up quite a bit without the dreaded curse of a rude interruption. Her loss I guess?
So as many high school students do, he took the SAT's at his parents urging, and low and behold, scored near perfect. College or really any college of his choosing seemed his future – written in stone instead of his usual pen and paper. But much to the dismay of his parents, he had declined any and all attempts to get him to attend a school of higher learning. He simply wasn't interested. Once again enter the mental health professionals – that perhaps they could persuade him into a bright academic career – despite his vocal limitations. But he was having none of it – said so right on his scribbling pad. No how, no way!
His words exactly.
It was a simple Friday, a gray and somewhat overcast Friday. But this particular Friday would turn out to be anything but simple.
The school had long since emptied out. The endless rows of lockers had grown eerily quiet, since moments before they had been alive with slamming doors and the hallway rife with voices of excited students looking forward to a couple of days of freedom. But one sole student remained, Conner, who seemingly was in no hurry to launch himself into the upcoming weekend.
Nearing the exit, he stopped to look at a bulletin board, one of many located throughout the school. It, the bulletin board, was cluttered with student activities such as school plays, this club, that club, tutoring lessons, guitar lessons, musicians wanted, etc. etc. But among those typical postings, sat one poster in particular, a poster that could only be described as ominous. A poster of a missing student, who had disappeared without a trace several days earlier. Conner didn't know the student personally, but he had heard the chatter, even though some of his fellow classmates believed he couldn't. Some even considered him a freak, but none had called him that to his face. Perhaps because they were afraid?
Still staring at the poster, Conner heard footsteps approaching. Well hello Conner,
the voice said from behind. Conner knew the voice, knew it well, and promptly turned to find the principal, Mr. Walker. They had a good relationship, so he nodded politely.
See something that interests you Conner?
he asked.
Conner turned back and continued to stare at the poster of the missing boy, his mind seemingly locked in on the accompanying article. And then it happened, what he had been waiting for. The Chain.
So he turned back to Mr. Walker, and pointed at the article.
Yes Conner. We're terribly concerned about him. You wouldn't know anything about his disappearance would you?
he asked.
Conner stood for a moment, still looking at the poster, his mind churning all the while. For as long as he could remember, he had been waiting for his gift
to start. And as he stared at the missing boy's poster, it finally came. His brain, which had been swirling, came to an abrupt stop. It left him feeling different, vastly different. And it was then that he knew the time had finally come. Casually, he turned and looked at Mr. Walker, and shook his head, as if he knew what had happened to the missing student. At his side, Conner was holding a writing pad that he always kept with him – of what he used to communicate with those around him. With pen in hand, he scribbled that he knew where the boy was and showed it to Mr. Walker. The Pond,
he wrote, and pointed down the corridor and signaled to Mr. Walker to follow. They began to walk.
Several hundred