Burning Through the Pitch-Black Night

"Yes, Clark's younger brother. I never imagined Eric had such talent. Though it's bizarre, absurd, and impossible to understand, it carries an indescribable, mysterious magic!"

Lana handed several manuscripts to Aunt Nell. "These are the illustrations Eric drew. I think they're very much like his writing."

"The drawings and the writing evoke the same feeling. It's as if he didn't create them, but merely used these two mediums to present what was already in his mind."

Lana had been reading Eric's manuscripts and writing lately, even constantly looking up related materials and documents online. She seemed unusually excited.

"Especially this piece, The Shadow over Innsmouth. It mentions a kind of mermaid—the Deep Ones of the Trench Kingdom. I searched online, and some people claimed they had seen creatures like them."

"Lana!"

Sensing that Lana's mental state was not quite right, Aunt Nell stopped her.

"This kind of thing isn't suitable for you right now."

Nell glanced at the drawing in her hand, marked "Arkham" and filled with an indistinguishable shade of night. "These dark articles and drawings, full of madness and capable of making people lose their reason, are like an abyss. If you stare into the abyss too long, it will stare back at you. Lana, you're not at an age where you should be reading this sort of thing."

"Like the investigators mentioned in it? Seeking the truth only to meet a tragic end, going mad and losing their sanity the closer they get to the truth?"

Lana was not as obsessed or crazed as Nell had imagined. On the contrary, she was very calm.

"Aunt Nell, do you remember the diary of Mom's you showed me before? She wrote it when she was in high school, at the same age I am now. During summer vacation, Mom and her classmates formed an expedition to search for the Goatman of Louisville. Even though that stretch of the North Fork Railroad had been closed and they ultimately found nothing, she wrote that adventure down in her diary."

"Maybe I inherited some of Mom's curiosity."

Lana smiled at Aunt Nell. "But obviously, I'm the kind of person who prefers to put her curiosity into books rather than action. So, Aunt Nell, you don't have to worry that I'll suddenly decide to investigate these things."

"You've always been so sensible, Lana."

Aunt Nell reached out comfortingly and stroked Lana's hair.

"By the way, Aunt Nell, don't you know someone at Metropolis Publishing? Could you try contacting them? Maybe Eric's work could be published."

Lana quickly began making plans for publication again.

"Hmm."

Nell hesitated for a moment. "These writings and illustrations have considerable artistic and commercial value. They might really have a chance of being published. But don't get your hopes up too much. I'll only ask around for you."

"Of course."

Beaming, Lana linked her arm through Aunt Nell's. "I knew Aunt Nell would help me."

That night.

The atmosphere at the Kent family dinner table was especially heavy.

Eric, however, remained calm as he sampled the delicious chowder.

The chowder, made with shelled oyster meat, flour, diced potatoes, onions, and pepper, unexpectedly suited his taste.

Clark kept his head lowered, quietly eating the fried onion rings in front of him.

"I saw you playing ball, Clark."

Jonathan stood up and carried his empty plate into the kitchen, casually saying to Clark:

"You could easily hurt ordinary people. This strength beyond that of normal people could easily get out of control for you."

Clark raised his head and argued with his father. "The point is, I didn't! Why do we keep having this pointless conversation?"

"Because it's necessary!"

"I think you just don't trust me."

Clark refused to give an inch.

Having finished his chowder, Eric listened to their argument without the slightest ripple in his heart and continued working on the fried shrimp in front of him.

He had long grown accustomed to Clark arguing with their father.

But for some reason, their argument soon dragged him into it.

"Eric refused Coach Watt too. There's no reason you can't do the same, Clark."

Jonathan brought up Eric's refusal to join the football team when Coach Watt had invited him.

"Actually, Coach Watt simply couldn't tolerate the fact that I never attended team practice."

Eric set down the fried shrimp he had picked up and spoke calmly.

When he had first entered Smallville High School, Coach Watt had invited him to join the football team.

But since football had become completely devoid of challenge for him, he had proposed the condition that he would not attend practice.

Naturally, Coach Watt had refused.

Eric's sharp remark left both Clark and Jonathan silent.

"Ring, ring!"

Just as an odd silence fell over the living room, the telephone rang.

Jonathan let out a long breath and picked up the phone to escape the awkward silence.

After speaking with the person on the other end for a few moments, he hung up.

"Looks like I'll be busy tonight."

Jonathan took his clothes from the rack. "Old Harris got his fingers crushed because of some clumsy maneuvering. His tractor is parked thirty miles away from Harris Farm, so I need to go drive it back."

"Have Eric drive you."

Martha looked worriedly at the gloomy sky outside, then took the car keys from a drawer and handed them to Eric. "There's a good chance of rain tonight. Remember not to stay out too late."

"Mm-hmm. That depends on how troublesome it is."

Jonathan put on his coat and smiled at Martha.

After father and son left the house, Eric started the old Ford and drove his father toward Harris Farm.

"Whew!"

Jonathan sat in the passenger seat and let out a helpless sigh. "Your mother must be at home right now playing peacemaker and comforting Clark. Sometimes, she even takes Clark's side against me."

Eric guessed that his old man had been holding in his grievances for a long time. As he drove, he casually said, "Men and women distribute reason and emotion differently. It's only natural that they would have different views on the same matter."

"Mm-hmm. Martha says I'm rude and uncouth, then turns around and tells Clark he has to be prepared to accept his own mistakes. That feels more like trying to smooth things over."

Before Jonathan could finish speaking, something sudden happened!

Eric's eyes abruptly sharpened. Before Jonathan could react, he slammed on the brakes and yanked the steering wheel to the left.

Screech!

The car let out a violent scraping sound against the road as it drifted sideways at high speed toward the left side of the highway.

With his superhuman reflexes and learning ability, his experience behind the wheel rivaled that of a veteran driver with twenty years on the road.

Before the old Ford had fully drifted to the left side of the road, a dazzling blaze came hurtling toward the center of the road!

The approaching flames appeared to be a burning car!

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