Broken  Night

Broken Night

By:  Editingle Indie House  Completed
Language: English
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'IT' knows what's scares you... Janice Ross finds herself behind bars for the crimes that she claims she didn't commit. Coincidences were a part of books until they entwined with demonic power and uprooted the lives of young teenagers who face the wrath of wrong choices. Her life took a turn for worse when, even in prison, the evil plagued her dreams. The bizarre circumstances of Janice Ross's encounters intrigued Byron, a true-crime writer. Not believing the strength of the ancient curse, he proceeds to investigate the story and caught up in a series of horrific evidences that turns his life on its axis. Together, Janice and Byron have conjured hauntings that rival reality and uncovers the truth. Will Janice escape her fate or will Byron become another victim of the broken night.

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50 Chapters
Emily arched her back, letting out a small groan. She had been hunched over her keyboard since the sun poked its head over the horizon that morning, making her stiff and sore. When things went well, she could churn out a few pages in a matter of hours, leaving the rest of the day for her to do as she pleased. Today, things were not going well. Shaking her head, Emily picked up her favorite coffee cup, the one with the black chaos symbol on the side that she had bought in New York City, and took a taste test. The coffee had long since grown cold.“Time for a refill,” she mumbled. Even if it was of no consequence, she often talked to herself. Idle self-chatter often helped fill the void. Her last book had made a fair amount of money, more than everything else she had written. But even a sizable advance didn't last forever and Emily had again found herself back in the land of Ramen noodles and Taco Bell.  Hopefully, this ne
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Part I - 1
Byron Matthews didn't know what to expect from the girl. His experience with prisoners was, besides those that he saw on television, pretty much nil. He had never hung out with the crowd that found themselves incarcerated, and while most families had the uncle or cousin that was always in trouble, it seemed his was the exception. Still, when he first laid eyes on Janice, he was surprised.She looked every ounce the privileged rich girl that she was, tall and blonde, with the clearest skin money could buy. Something in the way she moved and held herself even made the orange jumpsuit look good, like the work of some avant-garde fashion designer from Paris. The hardness that he assumed all inmates eventually obtained had touched her but it didn't erase the years of private school and privilege; instead, it seemed to almost enhance them, giving credence to the nonchalant disinterest that so many young girls wore like a cloak. Byron found himself impressed in
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Janice opened her eyes, which had been closed the entire time she spoke. It surprised Byron at how well the girl narrated her story, more like a memoir than a casual conversation. He wondered if she rehearsed all of this in her cell, eventually deciding that there was very little that Janice didn't rehearse. “Sorry I'm spending so much time on this crap.” she fiddles with her fingers nervously. “It's fine. Just talk about whatever comes to you.”“I don’t think this is what you want to write about, is it?”“You never know.” Byron gave an encouraging smile. “And it's good to have as much background as possible. It makes for a better book, even if I don't end up writing about any of this.”Janice nodded, and Byron could tell from the girl's expression she was indeed thinking about what he had said. “I guess you're right. Besides… I'm not re
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This time the girl, (Byron was still calling her that in his mind. She had yet to become Janice Rosse) seemed nervous. As soon as the guard, a new one this time with a scar on his right cheek, sat her down and removed the handcuffs. She began to drum her fingers on the table between them, creating short, staccato beats that led to nothing. Byron waited a moment to speak. “Are you ready to begin, Janice?” He finally asked, setting up the tape recorder.  “Oh.” she seemed a little surprised, wide blue eye blinking rapidly as they stared through him. “Yeah.”“Is something bothering you?”“No… well, yeah… It's just that I try not to think too much about what happened, and last week, after talking to you, it's sort of hard not to, you know?”“I'm sorry. If you find these talks too distressing...”“No, I want to tell someone. To a person tha
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“We've known each other forever, since before I can remember. We went to the same daycare, the same schools, we all graduated from Manhattan High School for Girls just before… before it all started. In fact, though we never talked about it, this trip was going to be our last hurrah as a group before our lives tossed us in different directions. Lacey was going on to college. We all knew that was coming. She wanted to be a scientist of some kind, something about physics, but cool… like the real Twilight Zone, Star Trek kind of stuff. If you could get her talking about it, and if you could get her to not use all the fancy math terms, it was really neat to hear about. She wanted to find out if there were really other dimensions, you know, like other worlds that were almost totally like ours, with little tiny differences. You know what I mean, right? Anyway, she was going to a college that none of us even had a prayer of getting
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“It's alright. If you want to call it a day, that’s fine.” Byron assured seeing her state. It was in that moment, when Janice went from a calm, almost detached monotone to hitching sobs, that he stopped thinking of her as The Girl. Killer of friends or not, she was Janice to him now.She nodded rapidly, gulping in an attempt to choke back her tears. “Okay,” Byron shut off the tape recorder. “You never have to talk about anything you don't want to. I want you to know that.”She nodded again. After a moment she was able to get herself back to a state that was, if not controlled, at least it was rational. “I don't want to talk about any of it, but...”“But you want people to know your side of the story.”“Yes. Even though nobody will believe me.”      “I wouldn't be so sure. I can tell, just from tal
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“It's been a while,” Janice remarked as the guard brought her to the table. Byron noticed she wasn't tapping her fingers or jiggling her leg this time. Just looking straight at him, eyes expressionless, voice flat.“A couple of weeks,” he said, glancing up at the two-way observation window and smiled at the officers he assumed were watching.She nodded. “I want to ask you about the House today, if that's alright. You don't even have to talk about what happened there, not yet.”“Then what about it?”“Why did you go there, what drew you and your friends to it? You said earlier that it was a fitting last hurrah, but I want to understand why.”“Alright,” Janice said and began to tell her story. ***“When we were kids, we lived for Halloween. We didn't care about the candy, spooky movies, the cider, or any of that stuff, we wer
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“I think I'm about to get kicked out,” Byron humored, eyeing the guard who stood like all the guards before him, leaning against the wall. The guard nodded as he gazed at the clock on the wall. “Just about.”“I wasted the whole time again, didn't I?” Janice asked, her icy eyes cast downward. “No, not at all, all of this is important,” Byron assured realizing he meant every word.“But you're writing about the… about what happened to my friends, right?”“Yes, but people don't read this stuff just for the juicy details. Well, some do, but you can't do much about them.” He laughed a little and was surprised when Janice did as well.  “Most people,” Byron continued, “Read the kind of books I write to get to know the people involved, to help them understand what happened. People are confused about how these things happen. They wan
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That night Byron dreamed. In his dream, he sat at a long table covered in lit candles. Other than the flickering candlelight, the room was completely dark. From somewhere in the distance music played, an eerie, droning music that sounded like it was being played backward. Across from him, on the other side of the table, sat a skinny woman with dark hair pulled into pigtails. She was a bit younger than Byron and looked vaguely familiar. “I'd leave her alone.” The woman said, her voice taking on the strange, languid tone that dream speech sometimes had. “Who?” Byron inquired, his voice he noticed, was normal. The woman narrowed her eyes, “You know who.”“Janice,” Byron proclaimed as understanding suddenly dawned upon him. “And why should I leave Janice alone?”“Because you won't like what lies at the end of that road. Be it that of needles or that of pins
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        This is starting to feel like home, Byron thought as he sat across from Janice once more. The guard was even the same one that brought her in the first time they had spoken, creating a strange case of Deja vu.“The girl who told us about interactive theater was one of those artsy types, you know, short hair, glasses, probably plays ukulele? I think Julia knew her from a community art class she had taken, but I'm not sure.She had just gotten back from some show that was themed around cult brainwashing, and she praised it so heavily that we just had to go. Walking into that place was one of those moments where everything changes. We were hooked. This was exactly what we were looking for. We devoured these things; anything that allowed some degree of freedom and interaction became our weekend getaway. The best part was, we didn't have to wait until October for these things as the
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