The Phantom's Curse

Chapter One

Clark started his morning just like normal, just like he did everyday, he woke up at 6.30am every morning, got dressed, and gather up what ever he was going to need for school that day. Waking up at the time he did, normally gave him enough time, enough time to get downstairs before his mother had to call for him. He went with a normal, casual, outfit that morning, making sure it was still just as comfortable as his other outfits, but just a little bit warming, since the winter months were upon SmallVille now. He placed a bright red jacket over a blue and white striped buttoned shirt. By 6.45am he was all dressed, had his backpack all packed up and prepared, placing it around his wrist, where it sat, till he came down stairs, and would place in on the kitchen table as he hurried along to school. Coming down the stairs as he did, his normal pace, instead of his superspeed, where he took in the cheerful smiles of both his parents. His mom seemed busy working on pancakes, she had cooking in a pan on the stove, while his dad seemed happy at working, drinking the remaining drops he had left of his first cup of dark coffee. The daily newspaper sat in front of him, face down on the table, as he kept his coffee cup close to his mouth.

''Good morning, glad to see you weren't going to miss out on pancakes.'' Martha said, greeting Clark as he walked around her, reaching the cupboard, as he returned with a small white glass mug. ''I'd be crazy to miss out on your pancakes.'' Clark smiled, as he placed his cup down on the table. His backpack now leaned against the chair leg, next to him, as he began rubbing the insides of the white mug he held. Indicating whether nor not his father had missed some dirt from last night's dishes. He wasn't always so observant, when it came to the challenge of washing, and drying all dishes. ''Oh. son,'' Jonathan began, forcing Clark to stop what he was doing, gazing at him with soft green eyes. ''I don't think you'll need any coffee this morning, I'd recommend hot chocolate. It appeared to have snow a lot last night, they closed the roads, so I guess, if you were still a little boy, you'd be having a snow day.'' he laughed, as he took the rest of his coffee, from the cup, now into his mouth.

''Really?'' Clark groaned. ''What am I supposed to do all day? I wasn't planning on doing to much, at this point I'd rather be up to my neck in homework! Anything to pass the time.'' Clark said leaning back in his chair, frustrated with the change of plans.

''if you wanted too, you could help me with some repairs. The tractor has been making some odd sound lately, could use your strength to check the gears on the bottom.'' his dad, offered. ''Sure, sounds like fun.'' Clark replied.

''Breakfast first, chores later.'' Martha said, cutting them both off, from conversation, as a sizeable plate of pancakes, was placed in the middle of the two of them. Clark being the closest to the plate, was the first to grab one, as it quickly vanished inside his mouth. Grabbing another one as quickly as he could, he rose from his chair, the bit of squished pancake in his fingers, while the white mug could be seen in his other hand, as he hurried along to the fridge. He needed something to wash down the rather large pancake. He was only thinking about how good the pancake would taste, not so much the aftermath of it all. ''If you're looking for something to drink, Clark, there should be a base jug of orange juice, bottom shelf.'' Martha said, guiding his eyes to the bottom, where the bright orange liquid stared back at him. His eyes moved past the jug, once it was tightly in his grip, as he turned, facing the counter, as he began to pour. He wiped the bottom of his hands, with a nearby cloth, and took a sip from his cup. As he drank, he turned his back to the edge of the counter, and stood there for a quite a while. While he was distracted, he was alerted by the sudden, heavy, bangs of outside footsteps. They were climbing up the stairs, to the front door. He turned his eyes back to where his parents were, setting them off, as the doorbell rang. Martha was the first one to stand, walking over to the door, as Jonathan joined his son's side.

The door opened, revealing two warmly dressed police officers, being behind it. Each held a firmly serious expression, each matching with light blue winter coats, though the belt which held their gun, and other equipment was still clearly visible. ''Something I can do for you, officers?'' Martha asked them, a bit of nervousness behind her voice. Jonathan and Clark looked at one another, Clark shook his head, they weren't here because of him. Jonathan seemed to let out a sigh of relief, as he walked across the floor, past the living room, joining his wife, who backed away, as Jonathan became visible to the officers now. ''What's this about, offices?'' he asked. The first officer, cleared his throat, as his partner shifted, then turned from his partner, walking back and forth at the bottom of the stairs, while the officer, in front of Jonathan, shifted his breathing, unsure how to place his words, properly.

''There's been another murder.'' The officer whispered. ''This one much closer then the others.''

''How close?'' Jonathan asked, a bit of frustration edged into his voice. ''A little ways down the road.'' The officer replied. ''So, in other words, close to us?'' he asked. The officer nodded. Jonathan turned to see Martha standing there, watching him with soft, worried eyes. ''What should we do? Should we go somewhere else?'' she asked. ''That's not necessary unless you'd feel better,'' the officer interrupted. ''You're safe, you all are! I swear it! My partner and I are just altering nearby homes, to keep safe, and alert. That's all. Unless you feel you'd be more comfortable leaving, we can set something up for you. If you'd like.'' The officer stammered. Jonathan shook his head, as he thanked the officers for his time. Then as he closed the door, excusing himself, he made sure the door was close, then locked. ''Are you sure this is the best choice?'' Martha asked.

''You need to get on this, son.'' Jonathan said to Clark. Clark shared his expression, as he placed his mug on the counter. He nodded then quickly wiped the grease from his fingers, as he stormed past the living room. A fresh chill from the cold, winter, breeze, brushed past his face, from the crack under the door, as he waited, listening for the ongoing footsteps of the officers, as they left. ''Clark, you can't be serious? This is a serial killer, he's killed so many, already! I won't let you risk your safety! I won't!'' Martha shouted, reaching for his arm, tugging him back, though she wasn't able to pull him back that far, seeing as he was a lot stronger than she was. Clark turned to look at her, taking her hands in his, forcing Martha to look at him. He held this unbreakable stare, she'd seen ever since he was a little boy. Once he was determined to do something, there was no breaking him away from it. Martha sighed, letting out a fresh breath of air, as she hugged herself, tightly. She could feel the cold winds, outside. Seeing that it bothered her more than him, Clark slowly moved over to the door, bringing himself in front of it, cutting off the breeze from getting to her, as he nodded at both her and then at Jonathan.

''I won't be gone long.'' he promised. ''I only want to look around.''

''If something should happen?!'' Asked Jonathan.

''It won't come to that. I can handle this.'' Clark swore, before he vanished, the door shutting behind him, gusted over by a gust of white winds, and chilled ice.