Dark Monday

Book summary

David Hamilton's exploration of a nearby sewer leads to an encounter with Alphonsus Tooms, who warns him of the Forces of Chaos targeting his neighborhood. A supernatural journey introduces David to a hidden library, launching him and his friend Helen into dangerous adventures involving witches, dragons, and spectral warriors. Can they restore sanity to Trentham amidst this chaos?

DARK MONDAY is a thrilling fantasy adventure novel.

Excerpt from Dark Monday

“Come on, don’t be a chicken!”

David shook his head and hung back as Tom Doolley clambered down to the edge of the brook and assessed the foaming water. It was a still evening, incredibly quiet – the birds had packed up singing and retired, the usually busy New Inn Lane nearby was deserted. Tom wandered along the edge of the brook until he stood close to where it passed beneath the road on its way to join the Trent, close to Trentham Gardens. David watched as his friend climbed up onto the concrete ledge immediately below a big drainage pipe that emerged from the banks of the brook here.

“Don’t go up there,” David urged. “It’s not safe.”

“Never thought you were a coward – until today.” Tom grinned and David scowled in response as he produced a torch from his back pocket, switched it on and pointed it into the pipe. The drain was about a metre high, a black, cavernous mouth that tempted every child who ever contemplated its secrets. How far underground did it go? David had no idea. It appeared to remain fairly close to the surface, presumably passing beneath the nearby houses. But how long did it remain wide enough to walk or at least crawl through? That was equally uncertain. He didn’t relish the idea of finding out either, only to get trapped somewhere far inside that ominous opening.

“I’m going in!” Tom waved cheerfully as if catching the bus home. “Last chance!”

“I hope it’s not your last chance,” David said.

Tom rolled his eyes, flashed his torch, and grinned. “Keep a look out, right?” David nodded reluctantly. Tom peered up the drain for a long, querulous moment before ducking his head and disappearing inside. His flickering torch beam swiftly faded from view, leaving David alone beside the stream in the gathering dark. He glanced around. A solitary car rolled by on the road and a pallid moon rose slowly above the nearby rooftops. Minutes crept by. David grimaced. He didn’t even know Tom Doolley particularly well – he shouldn’t have let himself be persuaded to join in on this daft venture. He just hoped that the drain grew too narrow to explore before very far, and that Tom would be forced to retreat. But night drew on, and he did not return.

David looked at his watch. It was gone nine, and his parents would be wondering where he was. Cursing to himself, he followed Tom’s footsteps along to the mouth of the pipe and gazed into its darkness. He could see absolutely nothing. Shadows converged just a few metres beyond the entrance like sentries guarding the path. A tiny trickle of sour water flowed in the very bottom, barely moving.

“Tom! Tom, come on, it’s gone nine o’clock!” No answer. “Tom, I need to go home – my parents will be worried!”

As David peered up the pipe, his eyes slowly adjusted, and far ahead in the narrow distance he discerned a pale orange glow. It was scarcely a pinprick at first, but it grew definitely brighter until it illuminated a section of pipe an unguessable distance ahead. David frowned, trying to fathom what he was seeing.

“Tom?”

His voice floated and echoed along the drain. Yet still no one answered.

“Tom, come on now!”

David glanced at his watch again. Ten past nine. He glanced around – the field behind him was empty – and ducked into the pipe, his heart immediately picking up speed. Switching on his torch, he walked slowly and warily, placing his feet either side of the water and pressing his free hand against the tunnel wall for guidance and stability. Up ahead, the strange radiance intensified further, its source a mystery. David expected the pipe to start narrowing but it remained at a constant circumference. He glanced back – the entrance had already shrunk to the size of a ten pence coin! By now he must surely be beneath the nearest houses, David reckoned. The air was damp and musty. It smelled of wet earth.

“Tom, for goodness’ sake! We have to go!”

His cries reverberated weirdly around the narrow space. David’s heart was thudding heavily now. The orange light grew much closer…he fell silent, staring ahead. The drain finally seemed to narrow in the near distance, but it was just beyond this point that the light seemed most intense. David instinctively switched off the torch and edged closer. The light began to pulsate and flicker as he advanced into the more confined section of tunnel. Suddenly, however, it opened out dramatically into a subterranean room. David gasped. It was a small chamber, its walls composed of perfectly symmetrical stone blocks, its floor the same and entirely even, some five metres wide and perhaps three high. A large translucent sphere floated in mid-air at its very centre, revolving steadily like a tiny planet, occasionally showering sparks on the ground.

David stepped out of the pipe, down into the chamber. An elderly man with vivid blue eyes emerged from behind the sphere. He put his hands against it as if warming them, and cocked his head, apparently listening intently. His gaze simultaneously fell upon David, and he raised his eyebrows quizzically. David stared in turn at his peculiar attire: a close-fitting dark suit enclosed in a large blue cloak decorated with golden stars. His tie matched the cloak.

“Listen to the sphere – do you hear what it says?” The old man’s voice was low and urgent. “The Forces of Chaos are on the move – at work again already – here in Trentham!” He beckoned David closer. The sphere revolved and its glow changed, darkening slightly. “Do they ever rest? No, not for a moment. Their attention has fallen on this peaceful place – who knows for what reason? And you have come into my chamber, who knows for what reason…”

“And who are you?” David said at last.

“Alphonsus Tooms at your service.” The elderly gentleman stepped around the sphere, placing his large, pale hands here and there, bending his head closer to listen. “Recently they focused their will on Little Eeling, before pouring their malice upon Darkhampton. Now they come to Trentham – your little patch of ground, David! Forever seeking to overturn the good order of things, to uproot all that is stable and true…”

David studied the glowing sphere. It brightened up as if in response to his attention. “Who are these Forces of Chaos?”

“They are precisely as the title suggests. It is better to not name them, for it only strengthens them and further validates their power. But exactly how they operate depends upon the specific individual in charge of the present operation…and this we do not yet know…”

David approached, gazing at the spinning orb in fascination. Mr Tooms suddenly removed his hands from it and placed them on David’s shoulders. David winced. The old man’s eyes were bright and filled with intelligence. “Will you help me fight back against nefarious forces, and protect the place you come from?”

“I will,” David said.

“Then make your way home,” Mr Tooms continued, “and await further instructions.” He released his grip and clapped his hands. The globe vanished and a moment later, so did he. The strange stone chamber disappeared too, and David was back in the pipe in complete darkness. Bumping his head on the roof, he switched on his torch and promptly collided with Tom. Both boys gasped.

“Glad to see you!” Tom said. “I was miles up this thing and the damn battery conked in my torch.”

“But did you see the old man?” David demanded. “Did you see Mr Tooms?”

“Who? What are you talking about?”

David stared into Tom’s baffled and rather dirty face for a moment. “Never mind. Let’s just get out of here.”

They emerged from the drain to find that night had fallen. David wasted no time hurrying home. He was relieved to find that although it was now half past nine, his parents were happily watching television and were all smiles when he came in. He hurried upstairs to wash the grime from his hands and face. Then he sat on the edge of his bed and shook his head in amazement, as he reflected on the strange encounter with the old man. 

David stayed there for some while until he lost track of time. Downstairs he heard the TV booming and the occasional laughter of his parents. At length he glanced at his bedside clock – it was just after ten. Rising from the bed, he crossed to the window and gazed out through the open curtains into the night-shrouded garden. The moon had come up and shadows from the trees swaying on the lawn. His gaze shifted towards the back of the garden and beyond, to the old railway embankment. In times past, this had been the old Trentham branch-line that connected the main Manchester to Birmingham line with Trentham Gardens. David watched the hawthorn trees that grew along the side of the old embankment. He heard a strange sound and, perplexed, opened the window to hear more clearly. It was strange mixture of whooshing and clanking noises and at one point there also seemed to be a great hissing-sighing.

David looked to his right. A great plume of smoke rose into the night air over the trees in the neighbouring gardens. It issued from something that was as yet hidden behind the foliage. The noise became louder and more fearsome, and a great mechanical chuntering grew within it. It got louder, yet at the same time seemed to be slowing down. As David watched in awe, a huge steam engine came into view and slowed to a gradual, juddering stop on the long-abandoned and long-torn-up railway tracks behind his garden. He watched agape as clouds of white-grey smoke continued to pour from the enormous chimney.

The engine gleamed in the moonlight. A man in a smart tunic walked down the steps set in the side of the embankment to their garden gate, looked up at David and waved urgently. “All aboard, please, all aboard! She can’t wait long!”

David pulled his window tight shut, snuck downstairs, and put his sneakers back on. He slipped out of the back door into the garden and up the moonlit path to where the train conductor waited at the gate. The gate itself was padlocked. David climbed nimbly over the fence and looked up at the man in his blue uniform.

“Hurry please, young man,” he said. “We’re leaving in just a moment.”

David followed the conductor back up the steps and marvelled at the sight of the steam engine up close, waiting on invisible tracks with its great chimney pouring out clouds of smoke. Its flanks were immaculate and painted black. He looked up into the driver’s cabin where a fireman shovelled coal into a raging furnace. The driver, his face smeared in soot, returned David’s gaze, and grinned.