Supernatural Fan Fiction posted September 25, 2017 Chapters: -1- 2... 

Not yet exceptional. When the exceptional rating is reached this is highlighted
The other side of the shadows begins here

A chapter in the book Fortune Cookies


by Cybertron1986

Eu El, a young boy with a hidden gift, experiences out-of-the ordinary dreams and interactions with his world and a world less understood. A world known as:

The Other Side of the Shadows.

In the summer of 1987, the number one song, "Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For," by U2, was bumped down on the pop charts by Madonna's "Who's That Girl."

Together, these two songs portentously hinted a warning to one boy's confusing, but content life in a way he could never had imagined as he ventured further down the path of adulthood.

Quite possibly, the Universe was conspiring to communicate with him to one specific event: a haunting, which only the unique mind of Eu El could not just accept, but also understand in a way which other "normal" people had a hard time to stomach. Throughout centuries the mysteries of life and death continue to go unsolved. Yet, the answers to these questions tend to subtly speak to us in some form, or another. Sometimes, these "signs," as some would identify it to be, would reveal themselves in ways when we "stop to smell the flowers."

And, Eu El loved the smell of flowers.

Many childhood memories, both forgettable and unforgettable, constantly ran through Eu El's thoughts. However, no memory would be as purposeful, nor significant as to one particular event that would soon challenge him. In fact, even then, if anyone understood what the Universe was telling him, no living soul with a conscience would see this "opportunity" as a blessing, especially for a child.

If, however, there were to be any young adolescent capable of competing with the sciences involving the supernatural, or the paranormal, then fate could not have chosen a more suitable contender than Eu El, a boy with a name his father unintentionally gave him without considering the consequences of his son explaining the origin of a name he, too, did not understand to curious people throughout his lifetime. Coincidently, this name is similar to a fictional super hero, whose "El" stood for hope in a faraway planet destroyed by a solar explosion.

Evoked by a simple question that had yet to be asked, this boy's life would soon evolve into an uncontrollable, and frightful anomaly that would haunt him behind almost every dark corner for the remainder of his existence, lingering to where few ever visited. More so, fewer believers, and non-believers would be willing to accept to what they discovered in those dark corners that stand in front of our sight, only to be hidden by our denial, even when whatever they discovered there stared back with glowing eyes. Their presence would never be as convincing as a story, true to every aspect written from a mind conditioned by experience, rather than imagination.

In one such dark corner of reality, Eu El patiently stays out of his father's sight. Quietly, he waits for that moment he could get his dad's attention without having to interrupt his HBO hour.

Too young to understand the demands of a job, Eu El could not fathom why his father worked tirelessly for paying the monthly cable subscription. He had no idea the hours of overtime was funding the dreams of his immigrant relatives before Eu El's aspirations of one day becoming an Olympic sprinter, professional baseball player, or running a successful business as a comic book store owner.

"Dad, can I play baseball? My friends all play," Eu El recalls asking in the fifth grade.

His Dad's response usually ended something like this...

"No! You're going to fail! Don't waste my time!"

His respect to his father was as relevant as Eu El's existence: both went unnoticed the moment he completed the crawling stage of his physical development.

At the finale of each T.V. program, his dad committed to one of two things:

He either took a bathroom break, or he grabbed a cold drink from the fridge before returning to his couch to dabble with the channel changer for the remainder of the evening, and soon fell asleep.

The good news was satellite t.v. had yet to be available for another five years. Any sooner, the distraction of advanced technology may have convinced his dad he never had a second-born son.

The thought of freshman year approaching made his last summer as a kid feel as if it was doomed to end like some kind of disastrous movie without a the expected resolution, a common disappointment in Eu El's relationship with his father which he accepted as somewhat normal. He prepared a list of questions for his dad that sounded more like a bucket list written in question form:

Can you take me fishing, Dad? (And, I don't mean just literally taking me to the lake in the morning, and leaving me alone there until late evening).

Mom said you played baseball in high school. Can you teach me how to throw?

Dad, the last movie we watched together was "Raiders of the Lost Ark." I was in the second grade. Will we ever watch a movie together again?

But, there seemed to be more pressing questions occupying his mind. Questions harbored from worry, which distracted him from all the other questions. If no effort was made to seek answers, then these questions would linger like an unseen presence weighing down his soul until his sanity snapped.

Just as a candle that was moments away from burning the last length of its wick, the exhaustion of his quest simmered the remaining radiance of innocence down to the core of Eu El's thirteen year old being.

"Dad, why'd you give mom's Christmas present she bought for me in the first grade to my cousin?"

"Dad, why are birthdays never celebrated?"

"Why did you break all of mom's plants?"

His mom's voice coincidently interrupts. "It's late! Go to bed!"

"Okay, mom!"

His swell of anxiousness conjures up a mutter of a word drowned in neglect, indicating the incomplete distillation of doubt from his voice.


He waits again as he did before for a reply. However, much like every night, the re-runs seemed to dominate Eu El's stuttering.

Repositioning himself in front of his father, his back toward the t.v., Eu El finds his dad asleep. The consistency of his father's habits leads him to hypothesize the possibility of television having a direct impact in the flat lining of brain activity.


"Wha...What?" his father finally responds as if the sound of his son's voice resuscitated him from death.

"Eu El! Go to sleep!" his mother, again on cue, interrupts from her room.

"I'm just asking Dad something!"

Perhaps, it was the annoyance of being hurried by his mother. Or, maybe, it was the innate nature of a son's eagerness to converse with his father that was to blame for speaking before thinking. Instead of asking any of his prepared questions, Eu El decides on a different topic: the relatives.

He knew this is the sort of topic that would motivate his father to talk endlessly, but the mention of relatives would be like opening Pandora's box.

To Eu El, after all the trouble his father put him through, releasing unimaginable evil into the world seemed like a fair trade.

As innocent and harmless as his question began, Eu El unknowingly opened the door to a familiar, but unspoken shadow of reality hiding in the midst of the world's denial with just six words:

"Dad, did I ever meet Grandpa?"

"Huh...?" he replied, half awake. "Grandpa? Gambler. Never home. Always playing *mahjong."

"Did we ever meet?"


"What do you mean 'sorta?'"

"What?" his father responds, bewildered that a conversation between him and his second born was transpiring. "You were two years old. He sorta visited us when we lived in Novato."

Confused, but content with where the direction of their conversation was heading, Eu El continues, slightly more bolder and not overthinking.

"I don't get it, Dad. I thought you said Grandpa never traveled to America."

His deduction was enough for his father to take a quick confused glance at Eu El's curious eyes before reconnecting back with the television. "Well, you just weren't old enough to remember when he visited."

"I don't get it."

Never looking at his channel changer, his father shuts the television off as effortlessly as a blind man reading braille. Straightening his posture on his recliner, he tells a story his son already lived, but could not recall. Even with much effort, his father did not appear comfortable.

"Well," he repeats straightening his back, "you were still in diapers, playing with your brother when you met him. Your brother ran outside yelling somebody had walked inside the room. You were too young to talk, but you were babbling to someone who wasn't there."

Eu El's gaze turns into that sort of lost look of a child who had not mastered the basics of arithmetic, but attempted to solve a problem in calculus.

At the same time, the discomforting echo of "someone who wasn't there" was enough to burrow deeply into his mind, and seep back out from his pores in the form of goosebumps.

"Then, I saw you pushing your trucks in front of you as if you were actually playing with someone."

"Then what?" Eu El asks, clearly spooked. "Was it grandpa?"

"I don't know. Well, I didn't know until after you rolled your toy trucks to the empty spot where your brother was sitting."

"Then, what?"

"I," his father clears his throat. "I saw how each time you rolled your truck, the truck rolled back to you."

"You mean, like, on their own?"

"Yeah," his father unsettlingly validates. "They rolled back to themselves."

"You wouldn't remember this," his dad reminds him, noticing the hint of denial in his eyes. "But, I know what I saw."

Eu El struggles to ask, "What happened afterwards?"

"The telephone rang. And, that's when I understood."

"Understood what?"

"Your relatives overseas called. And, they only call for a couple of reasons. First, if they need money. Or, if someone died. It wasn't coincidence how, on the night they called, something strange happened in the house."

His father pauses, noticing the hint of acceptance begin to reveal from his son's eyes.

"Before our relatives said anything, I told them, 'Don't say it. I already know. My dad is dead, isn't he?'"


* Mahjong is a tile based game that originated from China. It is played similarly to rummy.
Pays one point and 2 member cents.

Save to Bookcase Promote This Share or Bookmark
Print It Print It View Reviews

You need to login or register to write reviews. It's quick! We only ask four questions to new members.

© Copyright 2019. Cybertron1986 All rights reserved. Registered copyright with FanStory.
Cybertron1986 has granted, its affiliates and its syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work.