Mr Wayne Narrative

Vortex The nurse’s depression had become unmanageable and a vortex of despair affecting her work, so she decided to take time off to deal with this bad situation that was consuming

I tried to lift the book, but it was too heavy. I uncrossed my fingers and read through the first page, which was handwritten in calligraphy.

As his hands were trembling, the quill dropped on the table. He knew that there was nothing to be done. His signature stared at him. As if it was a good idea. He was old but still young minded; he knew what he was doing. However, he noticed that his time would end soon enough and that his lover needed him. Compensating for his actions, he held his wife's hand for her assurance, while the crackling of the fire enhanced his fluctuating decisions. With one look at her, he realised that it was necessary. Tears of blood, one by one, trickled down creating a seal for the envelope. The seal of the House of Van Garret.

After a year or so of living in my Middle West paradise, the cold, merciless hand of the East Coast came and rapped on my front door. It arrived in the form of a letter from Daisy, who, in a magic act that could rival Harry Houdini, disappeared with her hulking husband and her oh-so precious daughter, only to brutally reappear in the envelope resting in my hands. The envelope was heavy, as if the weight of the three years since that infamous summer had all been transferred to this single letter. Simply holding it I knew I would not be able to handle myself if I were to simply toss it into my fireplace and attempt to forget its existence. So I brought it in from my snow-covered mailbox and into the safety of my home.

In sixth grade I had a science teacher whose name was Mr. Snyder. He had a passion to teach young students the unlimited and extraordinary details of science. He would not only speak to us about the facts and theories of science but he would always demonstrate anything that could

“Ugh great, what a beautiful morning, can’t wait to hike up Harney Peak!” Shaelyn moaned. Oh yeah did I mention that we are going to Harney Peak today? Anyways as I was saying, my sister Kayla and I got out of bed and raced to the shower to see who would have to have to use cold water. I would have screamed at her but I was too busy wondering what that amazing smell was. Guessing that my grandma made pancakes before we go, which is radical. As I try to bang on the bathroom door I heard some creaking coming from the stairs. How could I forget the only guy downstairs?

I ran my hands over the smooth, heavy parchment and began reading. The letter was written with the intention of going to someone named Adalie’s second cousin explaining their absence from the family reunion and the recent events of their life. By the end, I found the letter interesting, almost like a biography, enthralled I decided to write back. I apologized for opening it, and I even put what I had been up to lately (leaving out the diabetes/transplant thing because I was not in the mood for a pity party.) I proceeded to put the letter back into my mailbox, running my hands over the rusty, yellow metal, then went back to my monotonous daily routine.

I am walking in the cool twilight air, down a dull cobbled path with a tinge of green moss, illuminated by blazing red gas street lamps. After a short stroll, I find myself outside number twenty-four, a dark blue, double story building, several of the exact same trailing to the side. I step up the old wooden stairs, receiving a faint creaking "hello" from each one. "Jules!" I shout. "Jules?" The light isn't on. I am confused. Maybe he went out to buy milk or eggs... But shops in Epsom aren't open this

Chapter: 15 ~o~ RUDE AWAKENING ~o~ Robert arrived at the five star hotel where the singer was staying with all his crew of agents, only to find evidence that the singer was actually abducted by an intruder. The door of the bathroom showed signs of forced entry, the door knob was broken from what it appeared to be a kick.

I woke up swiftly. My senses were blurred, except for my hearing. All I could hear was the

Daisy and I both saw the notes at the same moment. We both just stood there, too nervous to reach out our hands. Finally after a couple minutes of staring at the letters, I reached for mine. Daisy followed and grabbed for hers. We both opened them slowly, trying to not tear the envelope.

As I opened the door I noticed it wasn’t just me. Was I dreaming? Was this an hallucination? Was I lost? “Wait don't go in there!” said a voice. It was a little boy. Why was he here? “Am I breaking in?” “Hellooooooooo!! Is anybody there?” I yelled as I walked in. I laid there and my eyes darted back and forth. I wasn’t awake, I was just sleeping. Cold chills stretched across my body, and my eyes were so open yet closed. I was seeing everything. The sparkling scarlet blood dripped off of the table onto the white rug in the shape of feet everywhere. “You killed

I awake to the sound of dozens of pairs of feet racing down the hallway, I sit up, rubbing my eyes. Glancing out the window, the sky is dark and gloomy, rain hits the window like hundreds of tiny bullets. As I sit and wonder what all the commotion is about, I hear a familiar voice greet me from across the room.

Although, as I began to think about it while we progressed towards the entrance, it wasn’t so strange after all. I did understand the sort of business that took place within such establishments, essentially contradicting the meaning of the word “gentleman”, and could now understand Margaret’s reluctance to come here, and her distaste for her uncle aside from his aggressive nature. I suppose I became slightly lost within thoughts and consideration of possibilities that I found myself straggling behind Margaret by about ten feet, just within the allotted visibility of the town, and briskly quickened my pace to re-arrive at her

“No way. I told you, no more apparition inside the house. Last time you got a few inches off and knocked over three flower put and a hot tea kettle. We can leave from outside.” You spoke firmly and pointed towards the front door and grabbing your jacket, in moments like these Fred was reminded how similar you are to his mother.