1 The Four Sisters: Chapter: Who it came from

To begin with, I will start before. Not at the beginning, because I do not know when the beginning truly was. I do not know why these things happened. nor do I know who was the first that they happened to. I only know that they have happened before and they have happened to others, though I do not know who most of those other are, and that they will continue to happen. I also do not know much about how to prevent it from ever happening to you, only that you can take some precautions, though they don't always work.

To start, one must understand what I am talking about. It's difficult, right? Yes, I told you it would be. What is this "darkness" that I keep talking about? Well, to begin with, it isn't always a darkness. It isn't always a lack of light that one can or can't see. Sometimes, it effects you or those you love without any way to describe it....Without any way to cure or avoid it. Is it something in you? Around you? I do not know. For me, it seemed to be within me. But for my older and second sisters, it was certainly around them. For my younger sister...I do not know entirely...but then, that could be wishful thinking on my part. But, we'll get back to that.

From the beginning, though as I said before, it isn't really a beginning, it had happened to others, before. It isn't something that is "unknown." Though, for most, it is something that is "unbelievable". It doesn't run in your blood, though it is easier to be caught by one that has had another member of their family effected before. This is what happened to us. My mother was not a "carrier." She merely married one. He was the first in our family to be affected. We did not know he was affected (though my mother suspected) until it was too late. My father was gone. For most of my youth, I remember my father as being strong. He was my hero. I, like many children my age, believed him to be the strongest and smartest man alive. He was like superman, though super man did not come until a many of years later. Or...perhaps he was more like Popeye...yes, if I had watched Popeye as a child, I think I would have believed he and my father were quite similar.

When I was younger, I would picture my father literally picking up trees, lifting them straight out of the ground, roots and all, to hold over his head. I pictured him smiling, those little wrinkles bunching up at the corners of his eyes, as he did so.

My father knew so many things. He knew how to whistle really loud. He even once showed my sister how, though I myself had no talent for whistling. He knew how to ride a bike and taught me and my sister how. He sang, he made us laugh, he took us with him when he went fishing and even picked us up from school sometimes. I loved him and believed in him. He really was my hero. He sang in the morning, before my second sister and I would head off for school:

"We're all in our places, with bright shining faces, and this is the WAY we start our new DAY."

He sang that song every time we sat with him in the morning. While smiling and drinking his coffee. He laughed a lot. But...he wasn't home very often. You see, I didn't know it, but my father was already dealing with that...darkness. He was already struggling to keep it at bay. He brought it home, many times. Brought it to my mother. Gave it to her. I did not know about it, until one day, he was gone. He'd fallen into the Pit.

Now, that isn't it's official name, just the one my family gave it. It's there, in the forest. See, sometimes, when someone has the darkness inside of them, they are drawn to that Pit. That hole in the ground. I've heard it has no bottom, but it must, right? How can a hole not have a bottom.

I digress, I'm getting ahead of myself.

First, I must explain something. Every member of my family has the darkness inside of them, or around them. However, not all member were drawn to the edge of, and into, the Pit. I, for one, never felt the overwhelming urge to hike over to the ledge. I felt the urge, a bit, but it was not very strong. My oldest sister, on the other hand....

Right, back to my father. I had a relatively happy childhood. In a way. I'm sure that if I told you about the little bits that the darkness infected, you would disagree. You might say that it was not normal, that it was not very happy. But...I was happy. I felt loved. I felt safe, despite the looming threat of the darkness. I wasn't aware of it at this point and, as they say, ignorance is bliss. We did not have much money, and I was left to do as I pleased many times, but I was happy. I liked being alone. Even when the local children would come, asking to play, I would not always go with them. Many times, I would play for a time, before returning home to be on my own. Now that I look back...I realize this may have been a warning sign, one that I did not recognize. At that point, I think I had already been infected by the darkness. Was already being influenced.....

As I said before, my father was a man that smiled a lot. He could make anyone laugh and was able to get along with just about everyone. If I asked him a question, he always gave an answer. Even when he didn't know the answer. I think that takes wit, to answer a question, even wrongly, without a delay or pause. Many people say that my father was an uneducated man. I would have to agree. He was uneducated, but, he was not, in my opinion, stupid.

You may be thinking to yourself, "You keep writing in the past tense, but you said that all of you family made it through the ordeal alive." Well, you're right. I did say that. And I meant it. My father is alive. I am writing in the past tense not because he is no longer with us, but because he is not the same man. People change. They change due to many things. Time, a bad relationship, a good relationship, trauma. Some change for no other reason than because they decided to. One thing that will always change someone, is the darkness. If you come into contact with the darkness and live to tell the tale about what had happened to you, you can bet that you will have changed.

My father was one of those that survived the darkness, but he did not do so without paying a price.