Nightfall by Jake Halpern Read Free Book Online
Authors: Jake Halpern
candlelit hallway toward the open door of her brotherâs bedroom. Kana was studying his reflection in the mirror while rubbing lekar into the scar along his cheek.
Lekar was a powerful remedy against infections of all kinds. It could be eaten or applied to a wound, and it worked quickly. Many villagers claimed it had saved their lives. It came from a bright yellow fungus that appeared on the underside of woodfern, a small, soft plant that grew in the deep woods. It was very difficult to find or even to buyâespecially this close to Nightfallâand Kana was lucky to have it. Heâd been applying asmall amount to his face just once a week, and it was working, though heâd always bear a scar.
Marin knew she had intruded upon a private moment, but she couldnât help but watch. Every once in a while she was reminded of the fact that her brother was actually quite beautiful. People in town said he looked like their father, but it was only recently that sheâd begun to see the resemblance. He had grown taller, broader, and stronger from top to bottom during the past few months, and had even developed a dimple on each cheek like their father. He still wasnât as tall as Line, or as thickly built as Anton, but he had undeniably come into his own.
The only blemish on Kanaâs face was the scar. A fresh wave of guilt washed over Marin. She was about to dart away when Kana set down the jar of yellow lekar, turned his back to the doorway, and approached a large rocking chair in the corner of his room. He looked down at it and began to whisper. At first, Marin couldnât understand him, but then the words seemed to waft through the darkness, like a chant or the faintest of prayers:
It didnât happen . . . It didnât happen . . . It didnât happen.
CHAPTER 9
It didnât happen.
It didnât happen.
Kana mouthed the words as he studied the leather-bound chair that had been torturing him for weeks.
Iâm being tormented by a piece of furniture,
he thought.
How tragically stupid.
And yet that was the truth of it. The chair figured prominently in Kanaâs recurring nightmare. In it, he was lying in his bed, and a woman would call out his name. She sat in the rocking chair, hidden beneath a cloak, and she always said the same thing: âStay away from the woods, childâdonât let them see you.â It would have been funny, in a dark kind of way, if it didnât seem so real. And that was the thingâit felt so lifelike that Kana wasnât entirely certain that he was dreaming.
On one occasion, he was positive that the woman leapt from the rocking chairâwith astounding speedâlanded on top of him, and covered his mouth and eyes with a cold, musty rag. Kana struggled but couldnât shake her off. He gasped for air but couldnât breathe. She was suffocating him. As she did this, she started talking again: âItâs better this way, childâbetter foryou.â Then, rather inexplicably, as he felt his body go slack, she let him go. He tumbled off the bed and cracked his forehead against the floor. Everything went black. When he opened his eyes, hours later, he was looking into the terrified face of his mother. Sheâd come to check on him and found him on the floor, his face covered in thick, drying blood. That happened a week ago. Thankfully, he hadnât dreamed since.
Kana continued to stare at the old chair, as if it might start to rock on its own. It was an absurd thought, and yet it wouldnât really have surprised Kana. Not at this point. His great-aunt Malony was a lunaticâeveryone knew thisâand, apparently, he had inherited her illness.
I have Dadâs dimples and my great-auntâs screwy brain.
His aunt had died several years ago, but he could still picture her: Malony had cloudy eyes and hair so thin it revealed her scalp, which was always covered with scabs. She had lived with his
Lekar was a powerful remedy against infections of all kinds. It could be eaten or applied to a wound, and it worked quickly. Many villagers claimed it had saved their lives. It came from a bright yellow fungus that appeared on the underside of woodfern, a small, soft plant that grew in the deep woods. It was very difficult to find or even to buyâespecially this close to Nightfallâand Kana was lucky to have it. Heâd been applying asmall amount to his face just once a week, and it was working, though heâd always bear a scar.
Marin knew she had intruded upon a private moment, but she couldnât help but watch. Every once in a while she was reminded of the fact that her brother was actually quite beautiful. People in town said he looked like their father, but it was only recently that sheâd begun to see the resemblance. He had grown taller, broader, and stronger from top to bottom during the past few months, and had even developed a dimple on each cheek like their father. He still wasnât as tall as Line, or as thickly built as Anton, but he had undeniably come into his own.
The only blemish on Kanaâs face was the scar. A fresh wave of guilt washed over Marin. She was about to dart away when Kana set down the jar of yellow lekar, turned his back to the doorway, and approached a large rocking chair in the corner of his room. He looked down at it and began to whisper. At first, Marin couldnât understand him, but then the words seemed to waft through the darkness, like a chant or the faintest of prayers:
It didnât happen . . . It didnât happen . . . It didnât happen.
CHAPTER 9
It didnât happen.
It didnât happen.
Kana mouthed the words as he studied the leather-bound chair that had been torturing him for weeks.
Iâm being tormented by a piece of furniture,
he thought.
How tragically stupid.
And yet that was the truth of it. The chair figured prominently in Kanaâs recurring nightmare. In it, he was lying in his bed, and a woman would call out his name. She sat in the rocking chair, hidden beneath a cloak, and she always said the same thing: âStay away from the woods, childâdonât let them see you.â It would have been funny, in a dark kind of way, if it didnât seem so real. And that was the thingâit felt so lifelike that Kana wasnât entirely certain that he was dreaming.
On one occasion, he was positive that the woman leapt from the rocking chairâwith astounding speedâlanded on top of him, and covered his mouth and eyes with a cold, musty rag. Kana struggled but couldnât shake her off. He gasped for air but couldnât breathe. She was suffocating him. As she did this, she started talking again: âItâs better this way, childâbetter foryou.â Then, rather inexplicably, as he felt his body go slack, she let him go. He tumbled off the bed and cracked his forehead against the floor. Everything went black. When he opened his eyes, hours later, he was looking into the terrified face of his mother. Sheâd come to check on him and found him on the floor, his face covered in thick, drying blood. That happened a week ago. Thankfully, he hadnât dreamed since.
Kana continued to stare at the old chair, as if it might start to rock on its own. It was an absurd thought, and yet it wouldnât really have surprised Kana. Not at this point. His great-aunt Malony was a lunaticâeveryone knew thisâand, apparently, he had inherited her illness.
I have Dadâs dimples and my great-auntâs screwy brain.
His aunt had died several years ago, but he could still picture her: Malony had cloudy eyes and hair so thin it revealed her scalp, which was always covered with scabs. She had lived with his