October 2, 1988

1:30 AM, Donnie Darko's bedroom

Donnie Darko lies in bed. Laughing uncontrollably. Downstairs he hears Frank honking the horn as he drops Elizabeth off way too late at night. Can Donnie come out to play?

His shoulders shake with mirth. He can't stop.

When he sleeps, he doesn't dream. He drops his head onto the pillow, content. Plaster falls around his ears as he grins into the darkness.

Lilian Thurman opens her eyes. Cocks her wise head, listening. Deep in thought.

Sean Smith and Ronald Fisher play Nintendo deep into the night. The power shorts out just as Sean depletes Ronald's Life Meter, and they groan together. Voices echoing in the chill.

Sean Devlin's eyes roll back in their sockets, a slender spike embedded in an artery. His hand jerks, jamming the plunger too firmly. Air seeps out of his mouth. Ricky Danforth lunges for the phone a few seconds too late. He'll never know what made Seth falter. He's done it so many times...

Principal Cole sweeps Donnie Darko's profile report into the trash. Not knowing why.

The ceiling develops hairline fractures down the middle. Creaking madly, the death-cry of particles ripping from each other. Chunks of the roof rain from the sky.

Karen Pomeroy pulls the sheets up to her neck, breathing heavily. At her side, Kenneth Monnitoff brushes her shoulder with his fingers, unease gripping his chest. He leans on one elbow. Disturbed. He's always been sensitive to the way the world is put together, and how it functions. If there is a problem, he knows about it. There is no problem in the universe tonight...

Maybe that's the problem.

The electrical system is next. The fuses pop like fireworks as the engine severs through wires and cords, snapping the veins of the house in a spray of sparks. Luckily, any small fires are buried under the falling plaster.

Kittie Farmer sits up on her embroidered pillows, each embossed with a cheerily encouraging platitude. They surround her in the dark nights, comforting. Now they just lie there, stuffed pieces of colourful cloth. She puts a hand to her mouth, trembling. Sees how false her life has been, how shallow. Worshipping false idols.

Splintering wood crashes into Donnie's computer, killing it instantly. The bookshelf crushed. The jet engine mows into the floor, forcing the boards out of their struts. Beams stabbing into the smoking air. Into the bed.

A man sits naked on the edge of his bed, sobbing. His hands are stained. His eyes are greedy and his tongue is silvered. But for now, he's just a grieving fool. After all, Jim Cunningham, that's what's so illogical about being a Smurf...

Donnie twitched, as if waking up. His head fell back, arms limp at his sides. Smiling as sparks cascaded in his eyes. Wood where his lungs used to be.

Frank glanced from his nearly-finished Halloween costume to the mirror above his bedroom dresser. Shivered against the foot of his bed. Touched his right eye. An omen.

What makes you think I'm not?

Cherita Chen sleeps. She dreams.