READ THIS NOW!!!:::
This is just a fling of course, I bet that none of the events of this book will actually happen in the Show itself. But thanks for reading this and I’ll let you know when Chapter one is ready! The book will be separated into chapters, but there will be “flashbacks” to the past. Each chapter will be considered an episode. Also the chapters will be written in a “pov” format, which means that there will be different points of views in the same chapter. I will make however many chapters are required to finish the story, there will be death, gore, and blood. And I did decide to add more language that is usually in the show. Also, I’ve added some scripted stuff that describes something help with visualization, for example: (the camera turns to the door) then the rest of the book will continue. Please enjoy 😊!
SNEAK PEAK!!!!!!!!!!!
WARNING: This content is for people 15 and older, of course you can break the rule if you really want to be a SAVAGE. The reason this book is for 16 and older is because of swearing. But I think 14 is alright too. WARNING
PG-16
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Gore, fear, language, horror
Chapter 1
(Flashback)
Doctor Owens never agreed with Doctor Brenner. They had complications with working with one another. Brenner never took no for an answer and Owens had to much heart in the job. They didn’t enjoy each other’s company, or work style. But they had both agreed to take on the role of helping Eleven get her powers back. But this part of the story is long before that, years and years.
Hawkins, Indiana. 1949(59?)
Brenner stood outside of his laboratory, fixing his tie as the white van pulled up. The blue lettering was recognizable from a mile away: Hawkins National Laboratory. Brenner had made it his life mission to make masterpieces, or just using children as Owens had said, but this was way before Owens met Brenner and Brenner met Chief Jim Hopper. The year was 1949, August, or maybe it was July, Brenner couldn’t remember he was so wrapped up in his work. Two EMTs pulled a hospital bed out of the van. There, on the bed, lay a young boy. Maybe, 12, or 13. He had green eyes and slicked brown hair. He looked like he was sleeping. Brenner turned to his right. One of his men handed him a file that was labeled “Henry Creel''. Ah yes, Brenner had heard the name Creel before. Viktor Creel was a man that had fought in the war. Brenner flipped through the file and saw graphic images that he wanted to avoid with his eyes. The mother and sister were dead, broken bones and the eyes were sucked out of their sockets. What in the world? Brenner thought. The police arrested Mr. Creel, and the son slipped into a “coma”. But did he really? He looked at the boy's sleeping face. Yes, the comma was correct. He wasn’t going to wake up soon. Give or take a week. But it definitely wasn’t the father that had done this horrible crime, something with the power of God himself. Brenner motioned for the boy to be moved.
“Bring him inside please,” he said, gesturing to the EMTs that were at the child’s side. Brenner was younger now, no older than 30. He rubbed his brown hair and stared at the child’s sleeping face. He looked peaceful, but also as if it was forced.
As they walked inside, Brenner himself along with the EMTs and a scientist, gestured to the folder in Brenner’s hands.
“Is that the file?” The scientist asked. Brenner nodded, a solome expression on his face.
“This boy is special,” Brenner replied, walking through the security gate. He nodded to the security guard and glanced at his watch. 10:52 AM. To Brenner’s calculations they would enter his base of operations at 11:00 on the dot. The EMTs wheeled the boy inside of the decontamination chamber, and through the double doors that would later become the “Rainbow Room”.
They lifted the boy on a small cot that was fit to the size of the boy's body. The EMTs hooked up medical equipment to him and nodded to Brenner.
“All good Dr. Brenner, he’s all yours.” They walked out without a look back. Brenner looked at the scientist with interest.
“Please diagnose him,” Brenner said. The scientist looked up from his clipboard. He looked at the boy with an expression that Brenner couldn’t read.
“He already has a diagnosis, sir,” he replied, gesturing to the child’s current condition.
“Check again. And run tests on him. I know for a fact,” Brenner paused, touching the boy’s pulse. “That his father did not commit those horrid crimes, Dr. Craven. But I believe that the boy killed his sister and mother. And I wish to know how he did it.”