Part 1
☯️Instead of fighting your inner demons, examine them with curiosity and learn why they are there. Offer them love and understanding each and every time they come to visit.☯️
☪️Learn To Love Your Inner Darkness☪️
☸️☸️☸️☸️☸️☸️☸️☸️☸️☸️☸️☸️☸️☸️☸️☸️☸️
1
1 month later,
December 31th, 2009,
"Good morning, I'm your host, and this is our top story for today. Reporting live from the picturesque city of Venice, Italy, where residents have awakened to a scene of devastation, including smashed roofs, vehicles, and widespread damage to public and private properties," announced the poised and professional news anchor on the television screen, her strawberry-blond hair neatly tucked behind her ear, and her bright pink blazer exuding confidence.
"This incident is the latest addition to a growing list of mysterious occurrences that have been ominously dubbed 'The Smashes,' causing alarm worldwide. Our investigation reveals that the first reported incident took place on the 3rd of September in the vibrant city of Barcelona, Spain. In a shocking turn of events, an entire parking lot filled with cars was reduced to a heap of debris. But it didn't stop there; the buildings surrounding the parking lot also bore the brunt of this bizarre event."
"Adding to the mystique of 'The Smashes' phenomenon is the eerie silence that envelops each incident. Astonishingly, many residents report not hearing a single sound during these cataclysmic events. These disturbances occur in the quiet of the night, leaving communities bewildered."
"Furthermore, while some residents did recall faint sounds of sharp winds and crumbling concrete, they share a common inability to remember anything else from the morning in question."
"Since the incident in Barcelona, similar events have been reported from various corners of the globe, with some of them even showing additional signs of intrigue. In several cases, investigators have discovered blade-like slashes in addition to the destruction. These alarming developments have intensified concerns among local authorities and citizens."
"In addition to the incident in Venice and the first occurrence in Barcelona, 'The Smashes' have also struck cities and smaller towns worldwide. These include the cities of Athens, Greece, Tokyo, Japan, Sydney, Australia, Mexico City, Mexico, Hurghada, Egypt, Bradford, United Kingdom, Sedona, Arizona, USA, Vitória, Brazil, Kazan, Russia, Agra, India, Cape Town, South Africa, Toronto, Canada, Buenos Aires, Argentina, Oakville, Idaho, USA, Chesterfield, England, Kumasi, Ghana, Otago, New Zealand which concluded a total of 17 reported cases worldwide"
"Despite the collective unease, investigations into 'The Smashes' have yielded minimal progress.
Authorities remain stymied, and no clear suspects or motives have been identified. However, speculations are rife, and there is a growing suspicion that this may be the work of a clandestine organization with motives yet to be unveiled."
"Stay with us as we continue to cover 'The Smashes' phenomenon and bring you the latest updates on this perplexing mystery. Our thoughts are with the affected communities around the world as they grapple with the aftermath of these inexplicable events. Back to you in the studio."
In the elegant dining room of the Hartley family's luxurious home, an atmosphere of unease hung in the air like an impending storm. Mr. Steven Hartley, a man of professional demeanor, found himself clenching his jaw with discomfort, his deep-set unease evident. He set down his untouched cup of strong, black coffee on the pristine glass table before him.
Marshall, the wise and middle-aged butler who knew the Hartley family well, quietly and intuitively collected Mr. Hartley's coffee cup.
Mrs. Elizabeth Hartley, the calming presence at the table, sensed her husband's unease and delicately rested her fork. "Don't worry, Steve," she spoke in her usual optimistic tone, her warm brown eyes meeting her husband's with understanding. "They will catch those responsible. We'll be just fine."
However, Mr. Hartley's reaction was far from reassured. He responded with an exaggerated tone of concern, "Don't worry," he said, frustration lacing his words. "Haven't you heard about the damages? If one of those things occurred in our city, it would be catastrophic. What about my business? It would be ruined." His words had an unintended edge to them, verging on rudeness.
Elizabeth, her hurt expression unmistakable, displayed vulnerability as she looked at her husband. She seemed like a meek bunny standing in the face of her alligator-like spouse.
As the tension in the room mounted, Mr. Hartley was on the verge of saying more, but before he could finish his sentence, the dining room's door burst open with a jarring crash.
A disheveled figure stumbled into the room. This was Damian Hartley, the family's youngest member and an apparent outlier.
Unlike his impeccably dressed parents, Damian sported a baggy grey t-shirt and jeans. His messy, shoulder-length black hair added to his disarray. An unusual scar, resembling a shard of ice, adorned the right side of his forehead. It had a pale, translucent quality, giving it the appearance of an actual fragment of ice. It was a unique and mysterious mark on his person.
Damian shot a faint grin at his mother as she swept his dark hair from his face, revealing his striking grey-blue eyes. The scar, unique to him, remained as an enigmatic emblem.
As Marshall served Damian a plate of bacon and scrambled eggs, the news on TV caught Damian's attention. "These incidents again. It's been three months, and they're still clueless," he commented.
"It's terrifying," he continued. "No one hears a thing."
Elizabeth seized the opportunity to shift the conversation. "Tell us more about your art school, Damian."
Damian's face lit up with enthusiasm. "It couldn't be better, Mom," he exclaimed. "A new teacher, Ronald Richie Williams, just joined. He liked my art style and mentioned an upcoming art exhibition in the city. He invited me to participate if I can create an interesting piece."
His parents beamed with pride. "That's fantastic news," Elizabeth gushed.
"I know, right?" Damian responded, his excitement infectious. "I just need to come up with a masterpiece."
His father, Steven, chimed in, offering some advice. "Maybe try something different, Damian, something less...dark."
Elizabeth touched her forehead in anticipation of what was to come, knowing the response would be challenging.
The surge of anger within Damian was unmistakable. Abruptly, he pushed his chair back, creating a commotion. The room was filled with a deafening crash, the sound of splintering wood, and then, silence.
Wide-eyed, Elizabeth and Steven stared at their son in shock. Marshall and other household staff rushed into the room, concern etched on their faces.
A large hole in the wall behind Damian marked the spot where his chair had collided, its remnants scattered across the floor. The walls seemed to tremble, as if they were wailing in pain from the sudden, violent intrusion.
Damian stood in stunned silence, struggling to form words. Elizabeth tried to calm him with soothing words, "D-Day, just...just calm down."
However, Damian couldn't bear it. Without a word, he bolted out of the room, racing through the house. His room was his destination, and with trembling hands, he retrieved his wallet and keys. In a frenzy, he dashed back down the same path he had come but didn't return to the dinner table.
His parents called out to him, their voices filled with worry, but he didn't stop. He continued running, bursting out of the front door, leaping into his car, and driving away as if fleeing from an unseen specter.
It was happening again. For the past few months, bizarre and unnatural events had plagued Damian—plummeting room temperatures, sudden trances, inexplicable bursts of strength and speed, unsettling blackouts, and the recurring pain and eerie glow of his unique ice-like scar. Worst of all, a cold, malevolent voice had insinuated itself into his mind, urging him toward sinister deeds.
A voice that whispered nefarious intentions.