A graduate student's mysterious inheritance hold a secret far darker than he had bargained for, a secret that will open his eyes to the Great Old Ones, ancient deities that seek destruction, chaos, and insanity. Critiques are welcome. I'm trying to improve this and further parts as much as possible.
Note: The first post or two will be more expository, as I want to set the mood and build the scene.
It is a typical spring day and flowers were almost in full bloom. There is a light breeze and no clouds in the sky. It could have been a perfect day, if it were almost any other day. Today is the day of the funeral of my parents. They died in a car accident coming home from my apartment. They were hit by a drunk driver. I’d already run through all the thoughts, “Why did this happen to me?”, “It’s all my fault”, “Why didn’t I stay with them longer?” I’d come to the conclusion that not thinking about it all was best.
I watch as my parents were lowered into their graves. All around me family and friends were crying, but my face was dry. I haven’t cried since I first heard of their deaths. Not crying had helped shielded me from the realities, but now at the socially appropriate time to cry, I couldn’t do it. I rub my eyes, but to no avail. I wonder if the others are judging me for not crying. I know Mom would be disappointed.
Everyone began standing up before I had even noticed the priest begin speaking. Had the ceremony been that quick or was I just lost in thought? People began approaching giving their condolences. It happened so many times that they blended together in my mind and I couldn’t tell who even approached me.
When my aunt Anne approaches, she doesn’t give her condolences. “There’s something you should probably know,” a normally loud and playful woman is now giving a firm and almost silent whisper.
“What is it?” an eyebrow raises.
“Your parents, well, they weren’t your biological parents. Abigail said they would tell you when you were ready, but…” she paused, “I guess they won’t get to now.”
My head began spinning. First I lose my parents and now, well, I don’t know if my birth parents are still alive.
“Do you know my birth parents?” I asked, a little louder than I should have.
“No, it was a closed adoption. Abigail said both parties wanted it that way.”
“So I’ll never know my birth family?”
“No, I just,” another pause, “Thought you deserved to know.”
This was too much. I immediately left the funeral and got in my car. Why did she have to tell me? I could have gone my whole life not knowing I was adopted. It would be one thing if I could meet my birth family, but now I have gained nothing and lost a connection I had with my parents. Instead of their blood flowing through my veins it’s the blood of some mystery couple.
Part 2:
http://www.gaiaonline.com/journal/?u=38687829 
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