The Old Woman and Her Handsome Boy
The Old Woman sat in the restaurant and she fidgeted…yes, she actually fidgeted for the first time since she was a girl. She was nervous, so nervous she could barely stand it. Her daughter had offered to come with her to lend her support, but she had felt it was better this way.
A Daughter's Dread and a Father's Lament
Hello my beloved child, I am sure you are quite surprised to receive this letter from me. However, I assure you, you are not as surprised as I am! For I did not escape your treachery my dearest daughter. Your betrayal was quite thorough, and I, along with your beloved mother, elder brother, and dear little sister, were slain by your foul minions. But unlike our family, my child, I was denied oblivion’s sweet embrace. You see, while I felt compelled to enter the light, I could not. My anger, my pain, my...rage? It would not let me leave. Your treachery Adelia...it has kept me here. In this world of hate, pain and sorrow. Why is that I wonder?
The Book of Lies
It breaks my heart that it has come to this. I sit in a stolen car outside the old shack in the western Maryland woods. As I mumble the forbidden canticle of Saint Michael, I pull my pistol from it’s shoulder holster. An M1911 - one of the first made in fact - I run my fingers down its barrel, tracing the engravings in enochian script. I have named it Ender of Stories. A pompous and overblown name to be sure. But a fitting one nonetheless, for it has taken many lives, ending many stories. More than a few by my own hand and not all of those were human. Plus the very act of naming it links it to me and gives the weapon power.
Quite the Valuable Commodity
Midnight. And the rain was pouring down. A cold, bitter rain. I reached into my dark coat and put my hand on the pistol’s hard and reassuring weight. The silencer was already attached. The limo pulled up to its destination, the back door opened and a man stepped out, scanning the area. Satisfied, he stuck his head back in the door and said something. I could not make out the muffled words over the engine and rain. The front passenger door opened up and another man, this one I could see had close-cropped white or blonde hair, began getting out as well. Now was the time for me to make my move.
They Looked Like Nothing
I would see them. As I drifted in and out of that state between life and death, consciousness and dreams...I would see them. What did they look like? Nothing. They looked like nothing. Because I guess that is what they were...nothingness given form. How could you describe a black hole if you saw one? A black hole that walked in the shape of a man...or was it a woman? That is the best description of what they were. Nothing. Or at least the best description I could give with my limited human perceptions.