Good to be Back

“I’m fine!” they rushed out, forcing their eyes to meet with his. It almost stung. “I really am fine.”

"Honestly, I don't plan to kill you," Charles murmured, stepping past Brandon with the anti-necrolyze rifle in his hands. "You took away my ability to take care of my family, so I guess it's just fair if I do the same to you. Now, you get to feel the helplessness I've experienced." And he walked away with a guffaw. "How satisfying!"

“Now this is going to kill ya,” He says while eye searching the area as if he has frightened himself.

He ran into the clearing, where he heard the horse, with revolver drawn anticipating a fight but all he saw was Captain O’neill stood over a still, lifeless body. “Captain! What happened? Are you alright?” Even shouting it looked like the Captain didn’t hear Samuel. “ Captain! What happened?” Samuel was slowly approaching the Captain now, revolver still drawn.

"You alright man? You were out for almost a week, and you were screaming in your sleep. Do you usually have night terrors like that? Or are you just traumatised from... Whatever the hell they did to you?" I managed to creak out a single word at last.

Using money that was embezzled from his father's firm, he checks himself into a fine hotel to live this life long dream. He wraps himself up in all the luxury that he knew would one day come to him. He dressed himself in fine clothes, ate in the dining hall, and went out on a night on the town with a college boy that he met. The atmosphere of living grandly unfortunately collided with the thought of going back to Cordelia Street when his money ran out.

“Don’t worry. The police will be here shortly.” The person said with a sadistic smirk.

“You don’t want to kill me, Noah.” You warn, your voice low. “They’ll never forgive you if you kill me.”

He taps his giant purple bruise on the side of his forehead, walking towards me. “Alive, considering you risked your life to save me.”

“It’s fully furnished so you won’t have to do anything but bring in your wardrobe and whatever staff you require to see to your needs,” said the short stubby man as he unlocked the front door for them to enter. “The house belonged to William Gulledge. When William died, his wife Nancy continued to live here until this past February when she too passed away. She was lusty with life right up to the end and sharp as a tack too. They only had one child, a son that now lives in Boston- he instructed me to rent the place out until he decides whether he wants to keep it or sell it.”

“Magnus, are you okay?” They were unfamiliar, but it sounded as if they were panicking. He inclined his head in the direction was coming from and opened his mouth to say something before the world became, once again, dark and silent.

Sebastian sat calmly; relaxing on the sun drenched veranda of his country home, he smiled a contented grin; a comfortable smirk, the single dimple on his cheek punctuated an expression of great solace on the old man’s deeply lined face, his eyebrow lifted, the other eye squinted to a perceptive wink, watching with amusement as an ice-cream bar melted on a tray, the once solid cold treat now a mere lump and puddle of goop had been abandoned by the twelve year old grandson of the old man. The boy was Francis, he had deserted the confection to rush off to explore “Gramp’s” Studio. Sebastian had given him the key to the large building in the garden at the back of the country property, where the old man and his wife Priscilla had lived for the last twenty-six years. *(1)The old studio was filled with a plethora of wonderful objects, shelves and cupboards benches and tables racks and hooks containing all sorts of historical treasures, old dusty relics and gleaming wonders that jarred the imagination of the twelve year-old. Rarely on his annual trips to Gramps house from his home in Detroit was he allowed to

“What did he say?” I asked, trying to hide my curiosity. “C’mon! I’m sure it’s not as bad as all that.”

“Considering our victim is dead, we have nothing to go off of, we have no lead,” He finishes caught through clenched teeth. I sit and peer through squinted eyes now. I cannot be mad, he is

He peered through his charcoal gray eyelashes and stepped out the warm truck cab. He flung my door out and wrenched me out of the seat. Trudging forward, he drove his fist into his khaki pants and grasped at my hand. The door opened. The faces danced around me. It wasn’t the bodies that were contorting around each other that caught my attention, which sickened me weak in the gut. It was the smell of their drug-infused sweat that the instance sensation of vertigo came over me. Johnny felt my bony fingers go slack. The floor plan of the first floor was a giant square. Each room was filled with vice, reminding me of a game show with different prizes behind each