October 3, 1988

11:00 AM, Middlesex

Gretchen Ross pedalled down the early morning streets of Middlesex. People were just starting to come out their houses, bushy-haired and puffy-faced. Going about their daily business. A lot of that seemed to involve taking care of their lawns. She shrugged. To each her own.

She'd had a strange feeling when her mother decided they should move here. It was a nice enough town; a little boring, but that was a good thing. She couldn't quite place the sensation that she'd been here before, which was impossible. She shook her head.

Impossible.

The sounds of disaster reached her before she saw the scene itself. A house crawling with so many police officials and ambulance workers and fire-proof suits, that it was difficult to tell what had happened. A number of construction vehicles were pulling up, too. A family of four stood on the sidelines. The older girl's makeup was running down her face. A man whom she assumed to be the father cradled a little girl in his arms, gritting his teeth. The mother was leaning against a tree. She was smoking. Pain etched all over their features.

A little boy with blonde hair was watching from the opposite side of the street. He had a serious look about him. Gretchen biked over to join his company. They watched as a flatbed pulled away from the wreckage, a large pill-shaped piece of metal strapped to the top. Ambulance workers rushed into the hole the flatbed had left.

Gretchen leaned over. "Hey... what's going on?"

The boy never took his eyes off the scene. Voice quietly respectful. "A horrible accident. One of my neighbours... got killed."

They saw the body covered in a white sheet, being loaded into the back of an ambulance. "What happened?"

"Got smooshed by a jet engine."

"Oh." Gretchen squinted. "What was his name?"

"Donnie. Donnie Darko.

Her breath caught in her throat.

"I feel bad for his family."

"Yeah."

They stood there, witnessing the proceedings. Gretchen caught the mother's eye.

The little boy spoke. "Did you know him?"

Gretchen frowned in confusion. Shook her head. "...No."

She and the mother locked gazes. Gretchen gave a little wave. The mother waved back, a small, sad gesture. Smoke dropping from her lips.

After a while, the little boy waved too. It was almost like a ritual.

They watched the jet engine as it disappeared into the maze of houses. Went back to their lives. Haunted by something they'd never forgotten, but could not remember.

END

The year's at the spring,
And day's at the morn;
Morning's at seven;
The hill-side's dew-pearled;
The lark's on the wing;
The snail's on the thorn;
God's in his Heaven -
All's right with the world!
-Pippa Passes, Robert Browning; page 42 of Karen Pomeroy's handout on Classic Lit. B30

"The poem is stupid... How can the world be all right if Heaven is God's alone? It makes the search for God absurd if you already know where He is."
-Excerpt from a school report by Gretchen Ross

"WWJCD (What Would Jim Cunningham Do)"
-Button worn by Kittie Farmer

GOD LOVES HIS CHILDREN
-Graffiti found scribbled on a piece of notebook paper in subject's room post mortem

AUTHOR'S NOTE: So you're probably wondering: why did I decide to write this? By 'this', I mean the Author's Note. Does anybody ever read these things? Anyway...

I'm not a psychotic fan of Donnie Darko like some people are. I really liked the movie, and I own it, but my waking life isn't consumed by it. That being said, you will watch the film or I will rip your throat out and feed it to the life-sized replica of Frank I'm building in my garage.

But I digress.

I suppose it really started when I watched the little piece 'They Made Me Do It Too' on the Director's Cut DVD. All the neat artsy-type stuff people were doing with the movie was great. And I remembered Jeanette Barcroft's completely unauthorized novelization of The Crow, which struck me as a huge thing to be able to get away with. So I was like, hey, why not? I've got a computer and two copies of the script. I'll give it a try.

And darned if my efforts didn't pay off.

Donnie Darko is such a subjective piece of work, but what makes it really sublime is the fact that is still makes sense, narrative-wise. It isn't just another art-house montage of random images and cryptic voice-overs. It's a story. A story about time-travel, the search for God, the search for love (and fear), Dr. Phil-style self-help guru-ism, doing what's right, doing what's true to yourself, high school, the education system, rabbits, what it's like to be a lonely teenager in the middle of a world gone mad (and is there any other kind?), the end of Reagan's era, motherhood, religion, therapy, sex, coming-of-age, vandalism, bullying, exploitation of the young, rejection of the elderly, sibling rivalry, and of course, the sexual habits of Smurfs.

And so much more.

With this novelization I hoped to bring a few more aspects of the puzzle into place while leaving other parts wide open, maybe even opening up fresh gaps in the mystery that is Donnie Darko. You may have noticied I have taken a few creative liberties with the writing in this piece: I have re-introduced the deleted scenes, as well as switching and combining certain scenes for clarity. I have also created some new content: most notably moredialogue between certain characters (especially Sean and Ronald because they were just so much fun to write for) and the quotes at the end of the story. I tried to make the content fit in without adhering to any specific interpretation; you may notice further allusions in the chapter titles.

Comments? Questions? Suggestions? Gem collections?

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