Jonathan glided his fingers across the books haunted cover, resting them at one of its sharply crafted corners. He inhaled quickly due to the sudden pinch of pain in his finger, as splotches of his blood fell onto the book. There, blending well within its surface of a design, symbols emerged revealing a mysterious existence. Somehow his blood allowed him to gain access to its secret contents. So, with little concern, he repeatedly held the bloody finger over the surface. Drop after drop this blood of life spread to the four corners of this book. Once complete, the center of this book's dark abyss came to life by the awakening eye glaring at him. Never before had he seen such an elegant design, not to mention the one eye wonder. 
Glaring at the impressive cover, Jonathan could see his reflection peeking back at him, confirming that the thirst this book required was fulfilled. When he removed his finger he suddenly heard what sounded like a beating heart. The beating seemed to come from the books depths, enticing Jonathan to a new frame of thought. Cautiously he opened the book as the sound of his own beating heart merged with its pantomime thumping. Instantly, a gust of dampening wind greeted him, carrying the moaning and whispering sounds of lost souls, sounds he never heard before. 
Taken back by such greetings, he was graced by a new craft of dark beauty, of pitch black sheets of paper with letters of gold. Unable to pull away, he pressed on, flipping through the pages until his eyes fell upon one that grabbed his attention and with each elegant stroke, these golden letters formed the title, Where Evil Dwellers Dwell. To Jonathan, it appeared as if this book was some sort of journal that someone or something created. But for what cause or purpose he did not know, and of course, the only way to find out was to read it which Jonathan began to so.

Deep within this dark place where pure evil bubbles and resides, the souls of the dead scream in agony with their broken voices in hopes of reaching that place full of light and forgiveness. But no matter how hard they may try, this majesty of evil, this place to which these creatures with no faces, grab the flesh and bite at the skin from the bones of their newly committed dammed, maintain their rightful grip and held for all eternity. Hiding down into this inferno of torment, more evil things dwell and feed." He could hear a voice say, "Eventually, you will go mad in your solitude and, in the end, the suffering and the torture will overcome you.

With bewildered and confused eyes, Jonathan was pulled back into the reality of his room. He took a moment catching up with his racing brain. His mind that heard the frightful cries of the damned. It was filled with the ghastly images of his reading words. These words not only pulled its young reader beyond its message but stole a piece of his life source. As he turned the pages, he found himself at ease with the horrid, hellish words, hungering for more. Jonathan carried on, knowing not the darkness he allowed into his soul, darkness that would surely  overtake him in ways he never dreamt imaginable.

http://www.centraliathechosen.wix.com/author-bl

A Place Called Home

Fifty years later, Walnut Road, Pennsylvania

Home, ten acres of land. A place where the Righter's four children play and create their many adventures. With its Victorian style house made from brick resting at its center, it certainly is an eye-catcher no matter which season embraces it. Even more so during the summer months when thick vines of ivory cover part of its existences, not to mention the ten-foot tall brick wall. Embracing archways bearing their iron bars paths go to and from. It is indeed a grand piece of craftsmanship, for no matter how hard the winds blow or how consistent the rains or snowfalls pound against it year after year, this fortress of a home shines with all its glory.

Beyond this massive wall, far into the distance, one can see a large body of water, where the children often play. A site capturing the sun's rays during the summer months, dances with the autumn leaves in the fall and provides an icy surface for skating during hard cold winters. Whenever the Righters journey to go fishing down by this massive lake, they often walk along the many bountiful paths where they are greeted by beautiful wildflowers. Once emerging from these paths of abundant beauty they are surrounded by where many cherry blossom trees, with their tiny pink petals, sprout from every direction. And whenever a breeze passes, their sweet scent fills the air. And if you are a stranger, lucky enough to catch a whiff, your nose has the pleasure of interacting with such an incredible aroma. When the time comes for these various petals to drop, a blanket of pink satin covers their grassy grounds embellishing their walkways. Wal-kways guiding them towards a man-made pond which houses large coy fish that glide gracefully beneath the waters surface, enjoying the current created by a small waterfall running down from its rocky beginnings. Often, this site captures the attention of the children. And if these massive fish fail to grab their attention, the wild birds do. Their favorites are the Blue Jays, with their heavenly blue feathers and the Cardinals, capturing their attention with their fiery red color.

An additional treat for the Righter family is listening to the rustling sound of the trees leaves while resting under its cool shade. Always with a book in hand, their mother sweeps them off to a magical place where anything is possible, places where ships float on air, mermaids swim the oceans floors, and kings and knights rule. All of this bucolic scene is settled in the sheltering shade of this tree. Ann wished for her children to believe in so-mething more in their subconscious minds. She knew her children would remember these many moments for years to come.

http://www.centraliathechosen.wix.com/author-bl

The Righter's, loving family of six with parents Ann, and Jerry, and their four children live in this idyllic home. Jerry has owned a music studio in town for over twenty years over on Apple Alley. The music studio became his passion caused by his father who forbid television in their household during his younger years and demanded they read instead, for educat-ional purposes as his father so delicately put it. He happily fulfilled his father's request, embracing books and their often massive text. While educating himself about the many mysteries of our planet's past and of the state's founding fathers, Jerry found himself reading books about music, which his father allowed in their home, but it was Mozart’s and Beethoven's soaring and twinkling music that echoed down their halls.

As he grew older, many boundless opportunities to discovering the beats of other types of music appeared. It wasn't until the end of his fourth year of college when he realized that his true calling was creating and sup-porting music. So, with his devoted attachment, he gathered the skills he acquired during his Business Management classes and put them to their proper use, thus leading to the opening of his music studio. And although music plays a crucial role in his life, reading remains a daily chore he accomplishes in order to keep his mind sharp. Many mornings are spent either reading the newspaper or whenever the opportunity, any book in arms reach. It's his brain food that he certainly never minds feeding. Many of his friends describe him as a walking dictionary due to the amount of information he's capable of absorbing.

His adoring wife is a far simpler person. Enjoying baking sweets, none of their children ever find themselves in need of a tasty treat or Jerry of fresh morning bread. She also enjoys painting and collecting vintage books. Anything possessing an antique quality that would allow her to enhance any corner or shelf. But Ann's background has never been as clear as her husbands. Friends and those close to the family know limited information about her past. Only that she came from a far distance, settling in their quiet little town of Troutwine Spring at an early age.

When Ann and Jerry met for the first time it was as if they had known each other their entire lives. Their chance meeting took place on a warm summers afternoon while on her lunch break from the flower shop on Locust Valley Lane where she had been working for the past year. She arrived at the only music store in town, Eddie's Golden Records, where Jerry was a manager at the time. She was in search of a sweet melody she wished to play for her plants. This intriguing reason became part of their simple conversation about the power of music and its connection to stimulate plant growth. Finding it difficult to depart from one another that afternoon they agreed to meet the following day. They discovered they shared many of the same passions, leading to the expressions and under-standings of their joys and pains they encountered from their past. So, with their love, respect, and above all their friendship, they built a home, blossoming into their family of six where creativity was welcome, but sailed with a firm hold towards education.

As for their four children, each stands out in his or her own way. Brandon, their only son, is twelve years old with brown eyes and thick curly hair. He's advanced in the smarts department willing to take on any new video game. The only problem is, within hours from purchasing whatever game capturing his attention, Brandon has mastered, leaving him hungering for his next challenge. But Brandon's abilities didn't surface just through playing video games. He solves complex puzzles, and with little thought, designs buildings, model cars, and takes pleasure coming up with new inventions. However, unlike his father, he is not one for reading. Rarely does he pick up a book, finding them only of interest when containing images and words to his liking. But he does enjoy riding his razor scooter and sharing laughs with his sister Katie.

Katie is extremely proud of her talent for drawing. Hours of her day have been dedicated to creating her endless collection. Works of art perfectly drawn, possessing adequate detail that catches your attention. A talent first discovered at the age of three. And now, at the age of ten, it surpasses her mother's artwork hanging on their house walls. There is even a room equipped with art supplies supporting this passion. But this area serves another purpose as well. Whenever a dark moment crosses Katie's path, Ann finds this is where she can communicate with her timid, brown-eyed daughter. Katie is unlike her two older siblings when it comes to strength in body and voice. She's fragile, but her mother knows how to care for such gentleness, often confused for weakness.

Then there is Julie, the youngest in their family, nicknamed lovebug by her mother. One well suited for Julie always loves to give hugs and kisses, always accompanied with the words of I love you. Ann often is stopped by neighbors due to her daughters dazzling eyes. They are as blue as the ocean waters and her hair consist of bouncing loose curls. A fireball of en-ergy she is never one to sit still. It was at the age of two when she showed an intense interest in nature, resulting in many distressing moments for her mother when she pursued anything that fluttered, hopped or swam. A love for animals and insects shared during daily walks with her mother.

Karen, the eldest, is a quick thinker, an always on her toes gal. With her curly hair and eyes as brown as her mothers, she can readily seek out the smallest of details, granting her the ability to solve just any mystery, whe-ther it is within the many chapters of her reading books, their backyard, or even television programs. But Karen's real love is reading and writing just like her father. She is gifted with her writing style and adored by all of her teachers due to her passion regardless of the subject. Mr. Deluca, Karen's writing teacher, knew she embraced a gift, grabbing any oppor-tunity to encourage her to keep at it. But not everyone shared such praise for this fourteen-year-old. A few of her classmates rejected her hand of friendship. They found her eagerness to be known as an act of a nerd, but for others, it seemed to draw them closer to her. Two girls, in particular, became her friends, Vanessa Quivels, and Patricia Tunely.

Vanessa, an exceptionally tall and expressive girl, loves adventures as much as Karen, as long as those journeys don't have anything to do with dark places. Vanessa has a massive fear of the dark, never having the pro-blem of allowing others to become aware of it. Other than this small fear, she enjoys. But going on these hunts is not the only activity Vanessa takes pleasure in doing. Whenever she is not running off on one of her adven-tures she attends her pottery classes after school, freely creating works of art for Karen and her siblings.

Patricia also enjoys attending these adventures. She hopes one day for a really deemingly unsolvable mystery. To become a detective when she is older. A passion exposed whenever something goes missing. There she will be with her black, detective notebook, eager to solve the mystery at hand, and always smiling, always confident once a lost item will event-ually be found. She even advertised her services on a flyer. These flyers promised, No use crying over spilled milk! If you lost it, I will find it! She, in fact, has a few loyal clients, including many who misplaced their clothing while changing in the locker room, always seeming to show up in the oddest of places. For Patricia, it's always just another closed case of discovering lost clothing in the lunchroom, library, and even the flag pole. But regardless of her reputation, she spends most of her time hanging out with her friends. Patricia also enjoys playing the viola which pleases her parents.

These three friends swore always to be there for each other, a friendship about to be tested to its limits, for no one, had the ability to stop the devastation about to overwhelm them. The dark angel of death could not extend a note of pardon, not even to kindest of souls, for once your mark has come full circle, it can not be altered.