Read The Sacrifice: Chronicles of Sunset Valley Page 1

The Sacrifice: Chronicles of Sunset Valley

  Suneil Angel

  Copyright 2012 Suneil Angel

  Though I walk through the valley of shadow of death, I shall fear no evil.

  Psalm 23:4

  Chapter 1: Crimson Opening

  Location: Sunset Valley Residential Area

  It was late but Tom Peters was having trouble sleeping. His eyes locked on the digital clock on the table next to him. It was 2:00 am. He switched sides. He shut his eyes, hoping to get some sleep this time. It was another futile attempt.

  Forget it, he thought. He jumped out of his bed and onto his feet. He walked out of the bedroom and into the dimly lit corridor that led him to an open lounge and kitchen. The bathroom was on his right. He walked into the lounge. It was dark. His hand reached out for the light switch on the wall. The light spanned across the lounge with the flick of a button. The lounge did not have a lot of furniture but what he had served its purpose. There was a comfy couch, a table next to it with a beer bottle opener and the remote control for a 26’ inch TV that was his pride and joy.

  The apartment was small but it fit his budget: easy to manage, easy to clean, easy to maintain. Low rent and bills catered to his lifestyle.

  What lifestyle?

  Tom stood still in the lounge reflecting back on his life: a single man living on his own, working in a bar at nights and trying to catch some sleep when the sun is shining bright at dawn. Labelled as anti-social by people he could actually call friends, Tom worked the night shifts at a bar just outside Sunset Valley. The pay was good. He could spend a little on himself and save more to chase his own ambition. The only problem was, the job messed up his sleeping habits. But he had no complaints. The life at Sunset Valley was calm and moved at a snail’s pace. Sunset Valley was a place where everybody knew everybody.

  Do they really? Do they really know me?

  Just because he served drinks at the local bar and listened to people patiently as they gulp down their drinks and no one else would meant he pretty much knew everyone but no one knew him. He always found it amazing how a couple of bottles of beer could make someone spill their secrets out to a complete stranger.

  He shook his head. He did not want to think about it on his night off. He was not at work; he was at home. Work problems need to stay outside his den of tranquillity.

  He walked into the kitchen and opened the fridge door to see what he could probably eat or drink. 2 bottles of beer, a bottle of milk that was out of date and a box with 3 slices of pepperoni pizza that he ordered 2 days ago; that was all there for him to choose from.

  The choice was simple. His hand landed on the cold bottle of beer. The chilled glass felt nice on his fingertips. He slammed the fridge door shut behind him as he walked back in the lounge with the beer in his hand.

  He grabbed the remote for his TV from his other hand and switched it on.

  A cold bottle of beer and cable TV for all night entertainment. What else can a guy ask for?

  Tom slipped back into his pool of thoughts. True, the life was slow here at Sunset Valley but it had its perks. He was 26, still young. Athletic physique, fit, dating an equally fit girl from Sunset Diner not too far from his apartment, named Jenny Romano.

  His apartment was in the middle of Sunset Valley. From the third floor, he did not have much of a scenic view outside his window. His head moved to the window on his left. Lonely street lamps stood tall and firm, shedding light in the darkness outside. He could feel the fresh breeze from outside. His eyes moved to the apartment window across his street. He chuckled as the memories from 2 years back flooded his brain. The 3rd floor window was where his heart was. Trish Gaffney was her name. Both of them had the same floor apartments but different buildings, which stopped the two from getting to know each other. Tom used to take time off from work just to catch a glimpse of her from the window.

  I used to be such a stalker.

  A student who used to live on her own, Tom never found the courage to go to her and tell her his feelings. He never found enough guts to go to her and tell her how much he admired her - her long blonde hair moving freely with the air passing by her angelic face, her deep blue eyes and her curves; in his book she was a perfect woman. A couple of times he went up to her but walked past her. He could not find the words.

  She must have known.

  He noticed her smile whenever they used to make eye contact. She knew how he felt about her. And he knew she liked him too. It was a long shot but Tom could have been the luckiest man on the planet to have her by his side.

  Some things are never meant to be.

  Trish disappeared. She did not leave town. She did not move. She simply vanished. According to Mrs. Pickman, the landlady, Trish’s belongings were still in the apartment, all her clothes and personal belongings, but she disappeared. It had been 2 years and she had not showed up, even to collect her personal belongings. Mrs. Pickman said Trish was a student from New York City, here to do some research on the history of Sunset Valley.

  He missed her. He missed the smile that he occasionally got from her. He missed the way her hip length blonde hair danced with the free air. But that was then; now Jenny was his life.

  Maybe I should go see her.

  The cold beer bottle in his hands reminded him of its presence.

  Or maybe a little while later. She is working till 5 anyway.

  He grabbed the remote from the side table and switched on the TV. He flicked through some of the channels. He stopped when he saw his favourite program was on.

  ‘And now, on tonight’s show, a ghost from the past…’

  ‘Sweet’, he said. ‘Love this show’.

  He increased the volume a couple of numbers.

  ‘A girl from a boy’s fantasy, an image of a nightmare’; the narrator in the program was building Tom’s excitement. He leaned back on the couch and relaxed.

  ‘He used to spy on her’.

  He put the remote control on the side table and grabbed the bottle opener. He uncapped it. The sound of the discarded bottle cap faded in the volume of the TV.

  ‘He used to wait patiently for her glimpse’.

  Tom’s eyes were glued to a man on the TV screen peeping at a woman from the window. Tom took a sip from his bottle.

  Kind of sounds familiar, he thought. His head moved towards the window again, toward the apartment where Trish used to live, at the same window.

  ‘And now it’s her time…’

  Oh my God! His eyes widened. It was her.

  ‘…for her to stare back at him…’

  Trish stood in the apartment window staring back at him. She looked exactly as she had done when he last saw her. The same length of blonde hair, the same blue eyes, the same top she was wearing on the day he thought was her last day in town.

  ‘…in his eyes…’

  He blinked hard. He thought he was dreaming or hallucinating. But it was her, no doubt about it.

  ‘…in his soul…’

  The moonlight illuminated her face clearly. He could see tears in her eyes. Her eyes were filled with fear. It looked as if she needed help. He saw her turn around to face someone behind her. It was too dark to see who it was. She paused. Tom gulped. His heart raced.

  ‘…from HELL!’

  Crimson cloud covered the window. Tom froze with fear. He could not believe what he just saw.

  No, it is real. It IS Trish. And that is definitely blood.