The Valley of the Shadow Part I: Philosophy

N.W. Inc. Manning

Description

Several years after a global ecological catastrophe the majority of humanity has morally regressed. Violence and corruption have escalated. This new era has come to be called The Neo Dark Age.

Nero, a resident of a valley community, daily documents the transpiring madness as he battles feelings of guilt over the death of a young girl. In his log he recounts the schemes of a madman named Mondo, a gang of menacing youths, and an enigmatic Native American with a dark secret.

Discover what lurks in the looming shadow of a damaged world in book one of this horrifying trilogy.

Sujets

• Alternative History
• Fiction

Informations

• Publié par: eBookIt.com
• Date de parution: 21 février 2013
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781456610432
• Langue: English

Extrait

THE VALLEY OF THE SHADOW
 
a novel
 
 
by
 
N. W. MANNING
 


 
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
 
All passages from The King James Version of The Holy Bible, first published in 1611, included herein are Public Domain.
 
Excerpt from The Golden Bough: A Study in Magic and Religion by Sir James George Frazer, first published in 1890, included herein is Public Domain.
 
 
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
 
 
 
Copyright 2012 N.W. Manning.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be
reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying,
recording or by any information storage and retrieval system,
without written permission from the author, except
for the inclusion of brief quotations in a review.
 
Published in eBook format by eBookIt.com
http://www.eBookIt.com
 
 
ISBN-13: 978-1-4566-1043-2
 


 
 
This book is dedicated to
anyone who was lost to addiction
and came back from the shadow.
 


 
 
SING IN ME, MUSE...
 
PROLOGUE
“What do you mean you don't remember? For Christ's sake, it just happened the day before yesterday! The whole world witnessed it. Have you been asleep the past forty-eight hours or what?
 
“No, I'm not crazy! Shit, I don't believe what I'm hearing!
 
“This is FEMA, right? Well, listen good. This is nothing short of an ecological disaster and we've got people dying out here! We need help! Now I want to talk to whoever's in charge right this second!
 
“No, don't! Don't hang up!”
 
 
-Phone transmission to The Federal Emergency Management Agency
 


 
 
PART I
 
 
PHILOSOPHY
 
I — Initiation: October, 2006
 

October 8, 2006, Sunday
Abiona,
 
This I will call you.
The name is Nigerian in origin, translated as ‘born during a journey’. I will take you with me as I go through my own journey, however long it might last; for mine, like many in this harsh new world, is a lonely and grievous one at present. Whenever possible, I have imposed solitude upon myself. I have opted for a life of reclusion. I simply can not bear the companionship of another after what great error, or what unforgivable crime as I choose to think of it, I have committed. Yet, solitude does accommodate itself out of necessity.
I have often heard the healing process is hastened if one's woes, pains, and ills are written down. Whether this is true or not, surely it could not hurt. You will be my companion on this journey towards the light of amending with myself what I have done, Abiona...if this is at all possible. And by this conscious act of creation, our existences, yours and mine, are now forever linked.
I am called Nero, or, as those who are closest to my bosom have entitled me, Neto.
Things have changed for me, Abiona. I have killed a girl. She was but a babe. This, this is my crime; and so, as I have stated, for the present my sentencing for this deplorable act is one of isolation.
I want no part of what is going on in the outside world, this world the people call The Neo Dark Age. Jesus! What conscionable soul would? Alas, I am a part of it. This jaded era has forfeited triumph for defeat, sanity for madness, and is now replete with monsters. There is no escaping it! The world has finally succumbed to the weathering of the passing seasons and the tampering of mankind. Because of an anxious unrest dictated by crisis, it is swiftly and blindly bounding forward like a runaway train. The only outcome I can foresee is absolute devastation and ruin. We are the damned.
Though I have not yet seen my thirty-sixth year on this world I am, nonetheless, one of those who can still remember a very different time. I have been diligent to take careful note of the moral collapse, as well as the people's sorrows, doubts, and capitulations, as I have watched the sad results of this cultural erosion transpire over the past few years. The change was very subtle from the onset; flawless in its execution. And now we have arrived at what seems to be the coda of a masterful performance. The culmination of this centuries unpredictable, generational jitterbug of these creatures known as Homo sapiens – these creatures who have danced their dance to no audience but themselves – appears to be finally be at hand. We have furiously shuffled and kicked our feet with the impetus of existence, burdening the very soil which accommodates us, but not for very much longer.
Change is now ever present. All has subtly vanished. It is present in every facet of human life, be it on a global scale, or the most personal of events which touch us all. It says to our race, “You have so short an allowance. Must you be in such a frantic rush as to miss it? Must you dance toward your own inevitable demise? I am here, regardless. Can you not embrace me as you do your own devises? Respect merits its own providential rewards.” Change. It is in this evolution which lies the inherent decay of humankind. Abiona, what else is there for me now, but to try to distance myself from it all whenever I possibly can? As the world is in upheaval, I can do nothing except tend to my own charge of grief.
I reside on the North American continent of this blue sphere we call Earth. It is in the country called The United States of America, in the state of West Virginia, that I make my quarters. Here I am, one of many…E Pluribus Unum. My thoughts must come out, Abiona, for they have been inside for too long. And who am I that one should listen? Out of many I am but one, if only it is you, my dear phantom, who should hear out my torments.
In terms of employment I have held many job titles in my life. Nothing grandiose, mind you. I am just a man trying to survive the best way he knows how. Yet, these occupations have all been invaluable to me in their respective times and locations to serve as an educational platform, and anywhere learning is involved in these dark times it is worth a king's ransom, if only to outwit Death another day! I am currently holding down the job of store clerk in a twofold manner, being employed by two unaffiliated shops in the sister towns of Fairpoint and Glen In May, which are locked side by side in the mouth of a valley on the outskirts of the city of Brickley. This unorthodox circumstance has propelled me into a situation where I am an all too familiar presence in this small village. I refer to this as ‘limelight by proxy’, and consider it an unwanted lark. For obvious reasons I would rather be left to my own devices in such a dangerous age. To be in the center of the continually flowing swell of desperate people, drawn together only by circumstance, any of an infinite number of possible outcomes would be far too immeasurable to determine. Never have I been in a position where privacy and safety have been stripped away so unabashedly. My back is against the wall, but I must remain in the thick of such mortally perilous uncertainties that I may survive.
I have to admit, however, I have grown quite fond of many in the multitudes I must contend with daily. They are not all bad. I have come to know them, and their joys, and sorrows, and triumphs, and plights. Their lives are important to me. I have come to know which souls to smile at, as well as which to heed with the strictest caution, and they are many. As I have mentioned, the world is replete with monsters. And to be in the unusual position in which I have come to find myself, I have, in all fairness, also come to find my finger on the pulse of a community. This indeed demands a sense of responsibility if it is to benefit myself, as well as those who are yet innocent.
Herein lies my quandary, my new confessor and ally. My hands are stained with blood. I have grown sick inside and need time to heal. How great, this cruel irony! Though I feel the necessity to abstain from the public, because an internal decision expects it as part of its terms, I can not avoid doing so. And what of my civic duty to all of those who have not fallen under the spell of...what??? Why can I not remember?
Perhaps I am being selfish. As cruel as I may find these circumstances, in relation to myself, I do know cruelty. I have seen it many times.
 
-N
 
October 9, 2006, Monday
Abiona,
 
America's ideologies, tenets, and population are corrupt. All is vanity. All is deceit. All is lost. Heroes are a thing of the past. There is no one to look up to, anymore; no one to raise the bar of integrity so that we might be inspired and, in good conscience, follow their ideals as a means to a justified end. The true heroes have been a decreasing virtue as the new millennium loomed ever nearer, their scant numbers all but eradicated by the hands of fear, prejudice, and greed.
Three of these great men, heroes of the 20 th Century, are gone forever, two of whom were assassinated: The Great Liberator, The Great Humanist, and The Great Philosopher; The Reverend Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., Mohandas Gandhi, and Bertrand Russell. But how beneficial were all their teachings in the long run? When the muddy waters of injustice they stirred finally cleared, what was the point of their legacies when it has become illegal to even read about them and study their ideals? These men lived, loved, and fought for their beliefs with an educated perspective and a compassionate sense of objectivity concerning the world about them. Within each of their visions was the certainty that hope existed for future generations. They were the last of their kind and never has the world seen the likes of such men since. When they departed, their dreams were cashed in for trifles and self indulgences. In their stead, monsters have climbed to the surface from the bowels of human vice and inserted themselves into every arena of l