Short Story

“There was music from my neighbor's house through the summer nights. In his blue gardens men and girls came and went like moths among the whisperings and he champagne and the stars. At high tide in the afternoon I watched his guests diving from the tower of his raft, or taking the sun on the hot sand of his beach while his motor-boats slid the waters of the Sound, drawing aquaplanes over cataracts of foam. On week-ends his Rolls-Royce became an omnibus, bearing parties to and from the city between nine in the morning and long past midnight, while his station wagon scampered like a brisk yellow bug to meet all trains. And on Mondays eight servants, including an extra gardener, toiled all day with

“It’s not everyday we get company around here,” I reminded myself, “we haven’t shown our chateau in ages.” As we walked down the elegant staircase, each step creaked one by one. My hand-held lamp with the bright, burning fire was in clutch as we walked around the dusty furniture until we saw some of my men. They were silent, but you could see the fear in their eyes - almost like the fear in Rainsford’s. One had the guts to come up, and offer another light looking for a way to impress me with his concern, but I quickly declined.

A shout split through the air behind him causing her jade eyes to snap in the direction of the noise. Her hard expression softening as her eyes landed upon him as a grin snuck its way onto her lips. He found himself smiling, broadly in return as their eyes met. Words they couldn’t say conveying a silent promise, one that held the hope of seeing each other soon. No doubt Alayna would find herself in Elia and Ashara’s company before too long. With any luck, he might catch her at the feast tonight.

He drove to Old Westbury Gardens in silence. Once there, he parked and staked out the area, his vision overwhelmed by a vast sea of green. As night began to fall and people arrived, he made his way to the main building, a large three-story mansion surrounded by elegantly sculpted greenery. Walking up to the side of the mansion, he walked straight in due to an invitation in the dossier. Making his way inside, He loitered over to the bar, scanning the broad ballroom. Despite the circumstances, he blended in well with the crowd of New York’s elite, not as much as an eyebrow was raised as he stood among the crowd. Minutes passed as his growing anxiety increased, the pistol in his shoulder holster grinding against his ribs, when he saw her, gliding across the mahogany floor, the trail of her white gown drifting behind her like a stream of smoke. Everyone else in the room vanished as his eyes lingered on her, his heart beating with a strength he hadn’t felt in years. He watched her leave through the wide doors leading to the balcony, and he followed, watching her ease down the stone steps into the courtyard. She finally stopped inside the gazebo that stood in front of a small lake. Strings of white lights danced down the columns of the structure, and tulips wove around its base. He observed as she lit a cigarette, his legs moving towards her on their own whim as if he were being pulled into her orbit. He was close enough to smell the stench of the tobacco when she finally acknowledged his presence, screaming and turning around as she threw the cigarette in the

She licked her lips and replied, “What do you mean?” Ronan leaned his back against the wall and scratched his head.

He picked a small home, with a nice fence, it was not a part of town that he would normally be found in, but well this wasn't the normal time. He opened the fence quietly as he slipped low moving into the backyard of the home. He knew going to the front door would draw far to much attention. He wondered into the yard looking at the lights, staying hidden from view

Fall arrives in the city with crisp winds that brush leaves from the ground into the air in a slow churning whirlwind causing them to dance about, descending to the moist ground. A yellow cab is patiently circling the neighborhood in search of fares, which has been a twenty-year practice of Max – a stout, older man with a protruding belly that strains the buttons of his faded, much-wrinkled shirt. He slowly drinks a cup of lukewarm coffee and looks up at the dark, overcast sky, “Looks like rain today” he says. Knowing the streets of the city better than anyone, Max prefers to work on the east side around the old Elmhurst Cemetery. People don’t venture close to the cemetery claiming that they often see a young woman walking through it. Convinced she is a ghost looking for revenge, but this story never bother Max nor has he ever seen this ghostly young woman.

I saw a shadow at the end, its presence calling for me. I slowly rose up and balanced myself as I stood there, shaking. The wind was cold and continuously brushing through my skin, even though I felt like we were enclosed in a tight room. “Why do you want to get rid of me Ellie? Why???” His voice was sorrowful but at the same time grew so low and deep, like he was speaking from under the ground.

Being closest to the window, he glanced over his shoulder through the white blinds and saw two formally dressed men on the porch. A strong sense of dread threatened to overwhelm every part of his body. His eyes climbed up towards their expressionless faces. Standing there were the detectives–but they didn’t wear the same optimism they had for the last two months. Optimism that Michelle and himself had latched onto. Something was wrong.

«l was thinking about the day you called to tell me you had it,“ Seen an ad for a property on Michigan Ave." He mentioned sitting baq and meeting her eyes. "You were so thrill because the property was facing one of the busiest streets in Chicago, The Magnificent Mile. It Would bring in customers from all walks of life. I came by the same day to check it out with you, and then we stopped by the leasing office to Sign the lease.” He remembered all the details of the day, her excitement still so clear in his mind. She had found the place where

The bucketheads wouldn't stop shooting. It was getting harder to keep deflecting all their shots. I could feel Kanan growing more tired too. If Zeb and Sabine didn't get the shield generator soon we might not make it.

To put it both simply and lightly, this day seemed to be nothing more than a sequence of inconveniences. The Armed Detective Agency was an organization that never seemed to be short of members, yet for an organization with little need for addition individuals, they seemed to be expanding uncharacteristically quickly. The idea of expanding their headquarters with the expansion of their members had been one that had been discussed several times in the past, yet it never seemed like a necessity until quite recently. To compensate for the vast amount of changes, the expansion had all but been solidified. It wouldn't be correct to conclude that he wasn't thankful for the change of space, he, in a way, certainly was, yet the menial labor that it took to actually move soured any sort of previous excitement he felt. The amount of items that seemed to clutter up their floor was astonishing, and moving said items was without a doubt, most difficult task he had ever been placed on in memory.

His frantic pacing had slowed, but hadn’t completely came to a stop yet. It was nice knowing that just by being in the same room with him he’d stop pacing like he had been. That just by staring at him, his frantic hair pulling and tussling would cease and it would just be her and the man she loved. Even if it was for just a split second, just a glimpse of the man she knew and loved, it was him and she enjoyed every second of it.

It was the next day and everybody started to pack into the gigantic place where the president was going to speak. For Jessica knew this place, it was the biggest place in New York City. It was the biggest, most beautiful place ever, it was The Marble room. Jessica started thinking about all the possible things that could go wrong. People could start rampaging and throwing stuff everywhere. For they would ruin the Marble Room! But she reminded herself that this was the right thing to do.

He led her up the stairs of his lighthouse-like building, which he also called his home, into a spacious, yet dim room full of plants in containers, illuminated by fluorescent blue lighting. Though it was quite dark in the area, there was one object, right in the centre of the room, that almost immediately caught the Emissary’s attention. She looked at the bright, glowing ball made of thin material hanging from the ceiling, and she knew at once that this is what she came for.