The redhead’s feet were resting on the dash of my truck. Not something, I normally permitted, but if you saw her legs, you would understand why I made an exception.
“This is the second time you cancelled our trip to the mountains.” She pointed out. Indeed, our plane was probably boarding right now.
“I’m sorry, but this couldn’t wait.” I said, taking the exit from the expressway.
I could feel her smiling. She’d just been teasing and I’d fallen for it. I’d already told her about last night’s dream, a sobbing child, chanting voices, and a pair of pleading eyes. When I’d seen those eyes on the front of this morning’s paper, I knew what I had to do. She’d volunteered to come with before I even started on my plan.
The paper had the details. A prominent Pakistani-American lawyer’s child had disappeared on their walk home from school. She was very vocal in the civil rights field and the speculation was that the aduction might be related to that. Apparently, a note had been left in her mailbox that afternoon. Its contents hadn’t been released to the media, but it was widely reported to have been threatening in nature, rather than a ransom.
“I don’t understand why we aren’t presenting ourselves to the local authorities.” Red was new in town. Her strong eastern accent made that clear to anyone she spoke to.
“I don’t have the time to detail the reasons, but the police don’t consider my approach orthodox enough or reliable enough to use it until they get desperate.”
“You told me the child will die tonight if we don’t help, that’s plenty of reason to use our help.”
“Yes, but if we tell the police the child will die tonight they will treat us as suspects instead of as help.”
Red frowned. “This place is a silly place.”
“Why do you think I wanted to take you to the mountains?”
We turned down the street the lawyer and her family lived on. Unsurprisingly there were several squad cars and a forensics van positioned on her block. I paid them no mind as I drove by. Trusting instinct, I turned after another couple of blocks and parked in the first good spot I saw.
Red looked at me sideways. “Why here?”
I shrugged. “It’s where we are supposed to be.” My gifts sometimes did this to me, and I still couldn’t explain it. “Besides, this is New York, we’re lucky I found a spot within 5 blocks.”
I got out of the truck, asked Red to wait there and walked back up to the street the lawyer lived on. It didn’t take too long before I saw him headed my way. A heavyset fellow of South Asian descent strode down the block, puffing on a cigarette. In the air above him, I saw the same pleading eyes that had woken me that morning.
I casually stepped in front of him. “Shame about the boy.” I said, stopping him in his tracks.
“Do I know you?” he seemed surprised, confused, I had only a few moments to steer this the way I needed before fear or anger would creep in.
“No.” I said. “But I am a private investigator. I can help find him. “
“I don’t think so.” The first flashes of anger crept in. “You are a vulture trying to take money from desperate people.”
“I don’t want money, I have a job, and it pays more than I need. I want to help.” I gently placed my hand on the man’s shoulder. Like that, he was an open book to me.
“You are his uncle on his mother’s side. He and your son were born only a month apart. They are the best of friends, like brothers.”
He staggered backwards. “How do you know this?”
I gave him a smile. “I have a gift. I hope to use it to help you. I have found other children before. Sometimes I find them alive, sometimes I don’t. My gift has told me that if I don’t find your nephew tonight, he will not see the sunrise. “
He went pale. “The note, it says they will kill him tonight. If we don’t leave the country they will kill others.”
“Then let me help him.”
The boy’s uncle nodded. “Yes, but how.”
“I need access to his room. Take me into the home with you, tell the police I am a family friend if they question as to why I am there. “
“If you are helping to find him, you certainly are the dearest friend of our family.”
“Let me grab a couple of things, and let’s go.”
I went back to the truck and told Red what I was doing and when I’d be back. I also reached across her into the front seat and picked up the bouquet of flowers I’d grabbed before we’d left that morning.
“I thought those were for me.” She seemed disappointed.
I gave her a smile. “Next bouquet I get is yours, I need these to help get into the house.”
“A bribe for some policewoman?” was she jealous, disgusted with a deceitful act or teasing me. It was hard to tell.
“A gift for the grieving family.” I replied, gave her a smile and followed my new friend to the family’s home.
Buisness before pleasure
Re: Buisness before pleasure
The police let me through without a second glance. This isn’t one of my gifts. Just a skill most of us on the rez learned. Police attention was something we all wanted to avoid.
The boy’s uncle introduced me to the family. He was already hyping me up as a miracle worker. Making it sound like I’d guessed his social security number just by looking at him.
I did my best not to get hopes too high, and asked to be shown to the boy’s room.
Like most immigrant families, there were a lot of children, so the boy roomed with two of his brothers, one older, one younger. I sat on the boy’s bed and let my mind wander. Instinctually, my hand reached out and settled on an object on the nightstand.
I picked it up and took a look. It was a well-worn copy of The Two Towers. Not something I’d read, though I did enjoy the movies. Casually I flipped through the pages, imagining the boy reading this book. I stopped flipping and started reading somewhere about halfway through the battle of Helm’s Deep. I felt the boy, reading this passage again and again, thrilling to the heroics of Aragorn and his companions.
This was the seed I needed. I closed my eyes for a moment and reopened them Looking around the room I could see him now; bent over his desk doing his older brother’s homework; teaching his younger brother how to spell; under the sheets reading the book by flashlight. I could feel him; smart, compassionate, imaginative.
Now I just needed to find him.
I asked the family to let me take the book with me and told them I was going to go try and find the boy.
The boy’s mother and father gave me firm hugs, asked that Allah be with me and said they would be waiting to hear from me.
With that, I made my way back to the truck. “Hey Red, it’s time to take a walk.”
She got out of the cab and stretched in the most pleasantly distracting of ways. “Isn’t driving faster?”
“Not necessarily, besides I need to use my gifts, I can’t drive while doing that and you don’t have a licence.”
“I told you, we should have brought horses.”
We spent a couple of hours walking around. This sort of thing isn’t an exact science. More like a guessing game of 20 questions plus a bit of hotter-colder. Doing it in the middle of a city filled with millions of people also created a lot of background noise.
Still, I started to read a pattern in the signs. Each turn we made brought us further and further south towards the tip of Manhattan.
This was good, as we were getting closer to the boy. It was also not good, because it brought us closer and closer to the greatest psychic scar I had ever seen … Ground Zero.
Ground Zero was just about my least favourite place on earth. Hundreds of lives lost in one place over the course of a few terrifying moments. Each life, each ounce of fear, anger or pain that it experienced in its last few seconds, were seared into such a small space of real estate that just being south of Washington Square gave me a headache.
And the trail I was on lead right down West Street.
Now, I suppose I could have closed off my senses, put up my blocks and gritted my teeth as we walked by Ground Zero, but that would mean losing the trail. Instead, I had to do what I’d never done before, and feel the full force of what lurked there and hoped I made it through the other side.
The boy’s uncle introduced me to the family. He was already hyping me up as a miracle worker. Making it sound like I’d guessed his social security number just by looking at him.
I did my best not to get hopes too high, and asked to be shown to the boy’s room.
Like most immigrant families, there were a lot of children, so the boy roomed with two of his brothers, one older, one younger. I sat on the boy’s bed and let my mind wander. Instinctually, my hand reached out and settled on an object on the nightstand.
I picked it up and took a look. It was a well-worn copy of The Two Towers. Not something I’d read, though I did enjoy the movies. Casually I flipped through the pages, imagining the boy reading this book. I stopped flipping and started reading somewhere about halfway through the battle of Helm’s Deep. I felt the boy, reading this passage again and again, thrilling to the heroics of Aragorn and his companions.
This was the seed I needed. I closed my eyes for a moment and reopened them Looking around the room I could see him now; bent over his desk doing his older brother’s homework; teaching his younger brother how to spell; under the sheets reading the book by flashlight. I could feel him; smart, compassionate, imaginative.
Now I just needed to find him.
I asked the family to let me take the book with me and told them I was going to go try and find the boy.
The boy’s mother and father gave me firm hugs, asked that Allah be with me and said they would be waiting to hear from me.
With that, I made my way back to the truck. “Hey Red, it’s time to take a walk.”
She got out of the cab and stretched in the most pleasantly distracting of ways. “Isn’t driving faster?”
“Not necessarily, besides I need to use my gifts, I can’t drive while doing that and you don’t have a licence.”
“I told you, we should have brought horses.”
We spent a couple of hours walking around. This sort of thing isn’t an exact science. More like a guessing game of 20 questions plus a bit of hotter-colder. Doing it in the middle of a city filled with millions of people also created a lot of background noise.
Still, I started to read a pattern in the signs. Each turn we made brought us further and further south towards the tip of Manhattan.
This was good, as we were getting closer to the boy. It was also not good, because it brought us closer and closer to the greatest psychic scar I had ever seen … Ground Zero.
Ground Zero was just about my least favourite place on earth. Hundreds of lives lost in one place over the course of a few terrifying moments. Each life, each ounce of fear, anger or pain that it experienced in its last few seconds, were seared into such a small space of real estate that just being south of Washington Square gave me a headache.
And the trail I was on lead right down West Street.
Now, I suppose I could have closed off my senses, put up my blocks and gritted my teeth as we walked by Ground Zero, but that would mean losing the trail. Instead, I had to do what I’d never done before, and feel the full force of what lurked there and hoped I made it through the other side.
Re: Buisness before pleasure
I believe you discussed your aversion to southern Manhattan a month ago in this thread: viewtopic.php?f=3&t=2061.
While not my area of expertise, I have come across the theory of psychic echoes. Sometimes disasters and tragedies can be so intense as to leave their mark that lasts years, decades or in some cases centuries.
Tragedies of similar death toll to 9/11 usually see those deaths spread out over a far larger area or occurring over several hours instead of just a few minutes. Add into that an entire world watching the events unfold live, the potential psychic residue is probably greater than that found at Hiroshima, despite the much smaller death toll. The relative freshness of the the event probably contributes to this as well.
While not my area of expertise, I have come across the theory of psychic echoes. Sometimes disasters and tragedies can be so intense as to leave their mark that lasts years, decades or in some cases centuries.
Tragedies of similar death toll to 9/11 usually see those deaths spread out over a far larger area or occurring over several hours instead of just a few minutes. Add into that an entire world watching the events unfold live, the potential psychic residue is probably greater than that found at Hiroshima, despite the much smaller death toll. The relative freshness of the the event probably contributes to this as well.
Re: Buisness before pleasure
I've run into similar things in different places. It can affect the ebb and flow of magic, making some spells easier to cast and others harder. How much of this is psychological is unknown, possibly owing to poor research into the field.
Hi! I'm Cynthia and I am my mother's daughter.
Defunct the strings
Of cemetary things
With one flat foot
On the devil's wing
Defunct the strings
Of cemetary things
With one flat foot
On the devil's wing
Re: Buisness before pleasure
I’d like to think very little of what I experienced there was psychological, but I know it’s really hard to tell at times.
As I mentioned elsewhere, just being in certain parts of Manhattan give me a headache. This isn’t a joke about the air quality (though New York City air quality definitely is a joke), it’s just the strain of trying to shut out the static that I receive when I get too close to Ground Zero.
But, like I said, this time I was going in, defences down, trying to track a lead. I wasn’t really sure what I’d get.
So, I was somewhat pleasantly surprised by the fact that I had no headache; indeed, there was no pain at all as we began our trip into the financial district.
There was the smell of smoke however. Thick and acrid, the sent was so fresh it made my nose clog and my eyes water.
Red was unaffected of course, the fires having gone out more than 15 years ago.
Along with the smell came the sounds. Sirens wailing, people screaming, glass breaking and the terrible roar of concrete and steel tearing apart . . .
“Are you okay?” Red was standing in front of me. I’d stopped moving without even realizing it.
I closed my eyes for a moment and focused on the one voice I’d been following for the last couple of hours. A small, scared voice, sobbing quietly in the darkness.
I was still on the trail. “Yeah . . . there’s a lot of noise.”
Red nodded. “The yellow cars use their horns a lot.”
…
We continued on a few more blocks, turned a corner and that’s when the dust hit me.
I mean it really hit me. I felt the wall of dust collide with me, envelop me, coat me, smother me. I could see nothing but dust. I could feel nothing but dust. I could smell nothing but dust. I could taste nothing but dust.
Coughing I slumped to my knees.
Red put her hand on my shoulder. In her world, the dim setting sun reached between the skyscrapers around us to give everything on the street a warm golden glow. For me, there was nothing but dust.
“I can’t see.” I told her, my eyes refusing to open in the burning swirl of smoke and dust. I itched head to toe.
“I can see just fine.” She said. She was worried. When she had seen me use my gifts in the past I had not shown any sort of reaction to what I was experiencing, but then again, I had never opened up my gifts in a place like this in front of her . . . or ever really.
“Let me help you.” She said, putting my arm around her shoulders. Red’s a tall girl, 6 feet in her hiking boots and strong enough to knock over a man twice my size. She didn’t have any problems getting me to my feet and getting me moving again.
“I hope we aren’t drawing too many stares.” I said as she half carried me down the street, following my directions as I followed one small voice.
“Don’t worry; they probably think you’re drunk.” It was always so hard to figure out if she was teasing or not.
The sights and sounds of that day continued to assault me, the closer we drew to Ground Zero. The roar of jet engines, the boom of two massive impacts, the cacophony of total collapse. . .
And then, it all stopped.
We had stepped out into the memorial plaza. Like stepping into the eye of a hurricane, everything was clear and calm. I blinked as I opened my eyes. The sun had just dropped below the horizon but the memorial’s lights were as bright as day.
I suppose this should have been a relief, but it wasn’t. About me circled the spirts of those hundreds that lost their lives that day that hadn’t yet found their way to where they were supposed to be. Silently, invisibly they swirled around. Some tried to carry on their daily lives, passing through trees, walls and people as they ran to catch elevators or visited the office down the hall. Others were caught in their last moments. Panicking as they tried to run for the exit or plummeting from the upper stories.
“You!” came a shout from high above, near where the impact zone had been. “You can see me!”
A man’s sprit swooped down. His suit was disheveled, his limbs jutted at impossible angles. “You can help me!! I need to escape.”
I felt for him, I really did, but I had neither the time, nor the ability to assist him. “I am sorry friend, I cannot.” Red looked up at me, unsure who I was speaking to.
“You can!” He pleaded as he settled in front of us. “Just help me get home. My wife must be worried sick.”
I shook my head. “You’ve been dead for almost 16 years, nobody is waiting for you at home anymore. There is a little boy who is alive but won’t be for much longer if you don’t let us pass. Find your rest and don’t trouble yourself with the living.”
“No! I am not dead! I am alive!” he roared and lunged through me, his broken limbs flailing.
His touch was ice cold. I could feel him drawing the warmth . . . the life from my body.
Immediately my defenses went up, shutting down the drain by reflex, but also shutting out the small voice I had followed across the city.
I pushed my defenses back down and listened. “South on this street, we have to run!” I got the fix as fast as I could; the spirit had turned around and was coming for me again.
She didn’t ask me why, she just started moving. I stayed close behind her, I was faster than she was, but I didn’t want the spirit deciding to pick on her instead.
Again, the spirit’s ice touch reached into my soul and my defenses snapped up. H howled in frustration behind me.
We had run a couple of more blocks before I realized the spirit had stopped giving chase. Carefully I pushed my defenses back down. Immediately I was engulfed in ash, dust and smoke. The sounds of disaster filled my ears.
And try as I might, I could not hear the boy’s voice.
I’d lost him.
As I mentioned elsewhere, just being in certain parts of Manhattan give me a headache. This isn’t a joke about the air quality (though New York City air quality definitely is a joke), it’s just the strain of trying to shut out the static that I receive when I get too close to Ground Zero.
But, like I said, this time I was going in, defences down, trying to track a lead. I wasn’t really sure what I’d get.
So, I was somewhat pleasantly surprised by the fact that I had no headache; indeed, there was no pain at all as we began our trip into the financial district.
There was the smell of smoke however. Thick and acrid, the sent was so fresh it made my nose clog and my eyes water.
Red was unaffected of course, the fires having gone out more than 15 years ago.
Along with the smell came the sounds. Sirens wailing, people screaming, glass breaking and the terrible roar of concrete and steel tearing apart . . .
“Are you okay?” Red was standing in front of me. I’d stopped moving without even realizing it.
I closed my eyes for a moment and focused on the one voice I’d been following for the last couple of hours. A small, scared voice, sobbing quietly in the darkness.
I was still on the trail. “Yeah . . . there’s a lot of noise.”
Red nodded. “The yellow cars use their horns a lot.”
…
We continued on a few more blocks, turned a corner and that’s when the dust hit me.
I mean it really hit me. I felt the wall of dust collide with me, envelop me, coat me, smother me. I could see nothing but dust. I could feel nothing but dust. I could smell nothing but dust. I could taste nothing but dust.
Coughing I slumped to my knees.
Red put her hand on my shoulder. In her world, the dim setting sun reached between the skyscrapers around us to give everything on the street a warm golden glow. For me, there was nothing but dust.
“I can’t see.” I told her, my eyes refusing to open in the burning swirl of smoke and dust. I itched head to toe.
“I can see just fine.” She said. She was worried. When she had seen me use my gifts in the past I had not shown any sort of reaction to what I was experiencing, but then again, I had never opened up my gifts in a place like this in front of her . . . or ever really.
“Let me help you.” She said, putting my arm around her shoulders. Red’s a tall girl, 6 feet in her hiking boots and strong enough to knock over a man twice my size. She didn’t have any problems getting me to my feet and getting me moving again.
“I hope we aren’t drawing too many stares.” I said as she half carried me down the street, following my directions as I followed one small voice.
“Don’t worry; they probably think you’re drunk.” It was always so hard to figure out if she was teasing or not.
The sights and sounds of that day continued to assault me, the closer we drew to Ground Zero. The roar of jet engines, the boom of two massive impacts, the cacophony of total collapse. . .
And then, it all stopped.
We had stepped out into the memorial plaza. Like stepping into the eye of a hurricane, everything was clear and calm. I blinked as I opened my eyes. The sun had just dropped below the horizon but the memorial’s lights were as bright as day.
I suppose this should have been a relief, but it wasn’t. About me circled the spirts of those hundreds that lost their lives that day that hadn’t yet found their way to where they were supposed to be. Silently, invisibly they swirled around. Some tried to carry on their daily lives, passing through trees, walls and people as they ran to catch elevators or visited the office down the hall. Others were caught in their last moments. Panicking as they tried to run for the exit or plummeting from the upper stories.
“You!” came a shout from high above, near where the impact zone had been. “You can see me!”
A man’s sprit swooped down. His suit was disheveled, his limbs jutted at impossible angles. “You can help me!! I need to escape.”
I felt for him, I really did, but I had neither the time, nor the ability to assist him. “I am sorry friend, I cannot.” Red looked up at me, unsure who I was speaking to.
“You can!” He pleaded as he settled in front of us. “Just help me get home. My wife must be worried sick.”
I shook my head. “You’ve been dead for almost 16 years, nobody is waiting for you at home anymore. There is a little boy who is alive but won’t be for much longer if you don’t let us pass. Find your rest and don’t trouble yourself with the living.”
“No! I am not dead! I am alive!” he roared and lunged through me, his broken limbs flailing.
His touch was ice cold. I could feel him drawing the warmth . . . the life from my body.
Immediately my defenses went up, shutting down the drain by reflex, but also shutting out the small voice I had followed across the city.
I pushed my defenses back down and listened. “South on this street, we have to run!” I got the fix as fast as I could; the spirit had turned around and was coming for me again.
She didn’t ask me why, she just started moving. I stayed close behind her, I was faster than she was, but I didn’t want the spirit deciding to pick on her instead.
Again, the spirit’s ice touch reached into my soul and my defenses snapped up. H howled in frustration behind me.
We had run a couple of more blocks before I realized the spirit had stopped giving chase. Carefully I pushed my defenses back down. Immediately I was engulfed in ash, dust and smoke. The sounds of disaster filled my ears.
And try as I might, I could not hear the boy’s voice.
I’d lost him.
Re: Buisness before pleasure
I've always been fascinated by psychic abilities. The way you describe what happened, I can almost imagine it.
Sometimes I wonder if the human mind is really well adapted to processing psychic or paranormal activity. Perhaps that is why it seems to go hand in hand with insanity.
Do you have any insights into that?
It appears to be fortunate that despite being mind blind, Red is accepting of your abilities.
Sometimes I wonder if the human mind is really well adapted to processing psychic or paranormal activity. Perhaps that is why it seems to go hand in hand with insanity.
Do you have any insights into that?
It appears to be fortunate that despite being mind blind, Red is accepting of your abilities.
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Re: Buisness before pleasure
Red grew up in an environment that accepts this sort of thing is possible. She and I have worked together for a bit now, so she has seen a bit of what I can do.
But still, she's not seen me deal with anything like that before. Of course I've never dealt with anything like that before either.
And I've often wondered if I'm crazy. I constantly see and hear things that aren't really there. I can learn someone's life story just by shaking their hand and I can find things that are so we'll hidden they might as well not exist.
If I wasn't right so much of the time I'd think I imagined all of it.
But still, she's not seen me deal with anything like that before. Of course I've never dealt with anything like that before either.
And I've often wondered if I'm crazy. I constantly see and hear things that aren't really there. I can learn someone's life story just by shaking their hand and I can find things that are so we'll hidden they might as well not exist.
If I wasn't right so much of the time I'd think I imagined all of it.
Re: Buisness before pleasure
I don't understand everything about what you experience but I do not think you are crazy.
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Re: Buisness before pleasure
I'll accept that as a vote of confidence
Re: Buisness before pleasure
I blocked out the maelstrom while I tried to get my bearings. We were south of Ground Zero now, which was good because the trail had been leading us south the entire time. Provided we hadn’t passed the boy, continuing south might give me a chance to pick up the trail.
But I’d be dealing with the maelstrom the whole way, trying to find one voice in a choir in the middle of a hurricane.
There really wasn’t any better choice. I pulled the book I’d taken with me from the boy’s room to help me focus. “We’ll keep going down this street, I’ll need you to guide me again. I’ll let you know if we have to change directions.”
Red just nodded. She didn’t need explanations from me. That went both ways though.
Soon I was blindly walking through the dust again, holding the boy’s book to my forehead. Red held my free hand, gently steering me around objects. We went up streets and down avenues, crisscrossing southern Manhattan for hours, just trying to pick up a small, scared voice. Neither of us asked for a break, neither of us asked the other if they needed a break. We just kept going.
…
We were in front of the Whitehall terminal when suddenly everything cleared. No smoke, no ash, no dust, no sirens (well this is New York, there are always some sirens). Nothing to distract me from looking up at the sign showing the last ferry to Staten Island was leaving in 5 minutes.
I’ve learned to take signs like that seriously.
“This way!” I all but dragged Red into the terminal. We were the last two on the ferry that night and no sooner than my foot touched the deck than I heard a small voice, sobbing, asking for help.
Not having eaten all day, we pigged out on ferry dogs and discussed what might be waiting for us on the island. It was good to get a bit of rest and talk. We even joked a little bit, relieved to be back on the right path.
…
By the time we made landfall the moon was high in the sky. That soft sobbing I’d been hearing all day was now loud and clear. I felt as if I could almost reach out and touch the boy.
After a bit of walking we found ourselves looking up at a cluster of buildings. Not that I knew it at the time, but this was the old Seaview Hospital, which had been, way back when, a poor house, a mental institution and a tuberculosis sanatorium. How it was derelict and abandoned. The nearby forest had slowly encroached on the grounds, breaking up concrete and asphalt.
I guess that goes to show you that Nature will always overcome what man builds.
My phone vibrated in my pocket, I took a quick look and sent off a do not disturb text as a reply, grateful I’d had the phone on silent mode.
Quietly we slipped into the buildings, took the eastern passage and started our search. Not for the last time that night I’d regret letting my carry permit in New York City lapse while I was out of the country. Having my carbine or my revolver would have been handy, heck, I’d have felt better if I’d had my hunting knife. Red didn’t suffer quite so much from not having a weapon, being able to crack skulls with her fists just fine.
It took us a while to work our way around the building, finally, as we got to the west side of the compound we began to hear the chanting. Nothing worth repeating here, just bragging about how they were going to make America white again.
Red and I hurried down the corridor the chanting was coming from and stepped out into what appeared to be an old gymnasium. At the far end, surrounded by a semi-circle of over a dozen guys in hoods was a man in robes holding an ornate blade. Behind him, hanging by his wrists from a rope looped over the basketball net was the boy.
Red shouted a battle cry and charged across the gym, I was half a step behind her, not that it mattered, we were already too late.
The man with the robe slashed his blade into the boy’s stomach, sending intestines spilling out to the floor …
But I’d be dealing with the maelstrom the whole way, trying to find one voice in a choir in the middle of a hurricane.
There really wasn’t any better choice. I pulled the book I’d taken with me from the boy’s room to help me focus. “We’ll keep going down this street, I’ll need you to guide me again. I’ll let you know if we have to change directions.”
Red just nodded. She didn’t need explanations from me. That went both ways though.
Soon I was blindly walking through the dust again, holding the boy’s book to my forehead. Red held my free hand, gently steering me around objects. We went up streets and down avenues, crisscrossing southern Manhattan for hours, just trying to pick up a small, scared voice. Neither of us asked for a break, neither of us asked the other if they needed a break. We just kept going.
…
We were in front of the Whitehall terminal when suddenly everything cleared. No smoke, no ash, no dust, no sirens (well this is New York, there are always some sirens). Nothing to distract me from looking up at the sign showing the last ferry to Staten Island was leaving in 5 minutes.
I’ve learned to take signs like that seriously.
“This way!” I all but dragged Red into the terminal. We were the last two on the ferry that night and no sooner than my foot touched the deck than I heard a small voice, sobbing, asking for help.
Not having eaten all day, we pigged out on ferry dogs and discussed what might be waiting for us on the island. It was good to get a bit of rest and talk. We even joked a little bit, relieved to be back on the right path.
…
By the time we made landfall the moon was high in the sky. That soft sobbing I’d been hearing all day was now loud and clear. I felt as if I could almost reach out and touch the boy.
After a bit of walking we found ourselves looking up at a cluster of buildings. Not that I knew it at the time, but this was the old Seaview Hospital, which had been, way back when, a poor house, a mental institution and a tuberculosis sanatorium. How it was derelict and abandoned. The nearby forest had slowly encroached on the grounds, breaking up concrete and asphalt.
I guess that goes to show you that Nature will always overcome what man builds.
My phone vibrated in my pocket, I took a quick look and sent off a do not disturb text as a reply, grateful I’d had the phone on silent mode.
Quietly we slipped into the buildings, took the eastern passage and started our search. Not for the last time that night I’d regret letting my carry permit in New York City lapse while I was out of the country. Having my carbine or my revolver would have been handy, heck, I’d have felt better if I’d had my hunting knife. Red didn’t suffer quite so much from not having a weapon, being able to crack skulls with her fists just fine.
It took us a while to work our way around the building, finally, as we got to the west side of the compound we began to hear the chanting. Nothing worth repeating here, just bragging about how they were going to make America white again.
Red and I hurried down the corridor the chanting was coming from and stepped out into what appeared to be an old gymnasium. At the far end, surrounded by a semi-circle of over a dozen guys in hoods was a man in robes holding an ornate blade. Behind him, hanging by his wrists from a rope looped over the basketball net was the boy.
Red shouted a battle cry and charged across the gym, I was half a step behind her, not that it mattered, we were already too late.
The man with the robe slashed his blade into the boy’s stomach, sending intestines spilling out to the floor …
Re: Buisness before pleasure
Is that how you remember the situation? Because all available evidence I have suggests that things turned out differently than you're reporting it.
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Re: Buisness before pleasure
It's kind of hard to explain. When I finish writing up the next section it might make more sense.
Re: Buisness before pleasure
My phone vibrated in my pocket, I took a quick look and sent off a do not disturb text as a reply, grateful I’d had the phone on silent mode.
Quietly we slipped into the buildings, I steered us down the western passage and we started our search. Not for the last time that night I’d regret letting my carry permit in New York City lapse while I was out of the country. Having my carbine or my revolver would have been handy, heck, I’d have felt better if I’d had my hunting knife. Red didn’t suffer quite so much from not having a weapon, being able to crack skulls with her fists just fine.
It didn’t take us long to get to the west side of the compound. It was there that we could hear voices.
Red and I hurried down the corridor the voices were coming from and peaked through a doorway into what had been the gymnasium. At the far end, surrounded by a semi-circle of over a dozen guys in hoods was a man in robes holding an ornate blade. Behind him, hanging by his wrists from a rope looped over the basketball net was the boy.
We were in luck, the ceremony hadn’t started yet. Red shouted a battle cry and charged across the gym, I was half a step behind her.
The man in the robes raised his hand, palm out to us. A purple cloud suddenly enveloped Red and I. I could barely see her, but I heard her coughing even as I started to struggle to breath. Last thing I was aware of before the blackness overtook me was falling towards the floor…
…
My phone vibrated in my pocket, I took a quick look and sent off a do not disturb text as a reply, grateful I’d had the phone on silent mode.
Not for the last time that night I’d regret letting my carry permit in New York City lapse while I was out of the country. Having my carbine or my revolver would have been handy, heck, I’d have felt better if I’d had my hunting knife. Red didn’t suffer quite so much from not having a weapon, being able to crack skulls with her fists just fine. Looking around I picked up a piece of broken brick.
Quietly we slipped into the buildings, I steered us down the western passage and we started our search. It didn’t take us long to get to the west side of the compound. It was there that we could hear voices.
Red and I hurried down the corridor the voices were coming from and peaked through a doorway into what had been the gymnasium. At the far end, surrounded by a semi-circle of over a dozen guys in hoods was a man in robes holding an ornate blade. Behind him, hanging by his wrists from a rope looped over the basketball net was the boy.
We were in luck, the ceremony hadn’t started yet. Red shouted a battle cry and charged across the gym, I was half a step behind her. Taking a moment to fling my brick, I caught the guy with the robes square in the face. He stumbled backwards and went down hard.
Then Red and I were among the thugs. She clotheslined the first one as she ran by and kicked another in the face. I ducked a punch and caught another with an elbow to the jaw.
But there were too many of them, the numbers game was working against us. One of them tackled Red while she was lining up a punch, two or three of them immediately started stomping on her.
I tried to get to her, but one of them grabbed me from behind. Before I could squirm free, another started using my face as a speed bag…
…
My phone vibrated in my pocket, I took a quick look and sent off a do not disturb text as a reply, grateful I’d had the phone on silent mode.
Not for the last time that night I’d regret letting my carry permit in New York City lapse while I was out of the country. Having my carbine or my revolver would have been handy, heck, I’d have felt better if I’d had my hunting knife. Looking around I picked up a piece of broken brick. I suggested to Red she might want something too and she wrenched loose a cast iron bar from one of the window grills.
Quietly we slipped into the buildings, I steered us down the western passage and we started our search. It didn’t take us long to get to the west side of the compound. It was there that we could hear voices.
Red and I hurried down the corridor the voices were coming from and peaked through a doorway into what had been the gymnasium. At the far end, surrounded by a semi-circle of over a dozen guys in hoods was a man in robes holding an ornate blade. Behind him, hanging by his wrists from a rope looped over the basketball net was the boy.
We were in luck, the ceremony hadn’t started yet. Red shouted a battle cry and charged across the gym, I was half a step behind her. Taking a moment to fling my brick, I caught the guy with the robes square in the face. He stumbled backwards and went down hard.
Then Red and I were among the thugs. Her iron bar was laying them out left and right while I did what I could to keep them off her back.
We were almost at the boy when I heard a loud pop. Red stumbled forwards, blood spraying from her back.
I turned and faced down a .45 as one of the hooded thugs pulled the trigger…
…
My phone vibrated in my pocket, I took a quick look and sent off a do not disturb text as a reply, grateful I’d had the phone on silent mode.
Not for the last time that night I’d regret letting my carry permit in New York City lapse while I was out of the country. Having my carbine or my revolver would have been handy, heck, I’d have felt better if I’d had my hunting knife. Looking around I picked up a piece of broken brick. I suggested to Red she might want something too and she wrenched loose a cast iron bar from one of the window grills.
Quietly we slipped into the buildings, I steered us down the western passage and we started our search. It didn’t take us long to get to the west side of the compound. It was there that we could hear voices.
Red and I hurried down the corridor the voices were coming from and peaked through a doorway into what had been the gymnasium. At the far end, surrounded by a semi-circle of over a dozen guys in hoods was a man in robes holding an ornate blade. Behind him, hanging by his wrists from a rope looped over the basketball net was the boy.
We were in luck, the ceremony hadn’t started yet. Red shouted a battle cry and charged across the gym, I was half a step behind her. Taking a moment to fling my brick, I caught the guy with the robes square in the face. He stumbled backwards and went down hard.
Then Red and I were among the thugs. Her iron bar was laying them out left and right while I did what I could to keep them off her back.
I saw one of them reaching for something at his waist in the corner of my eye. I made a dive for him, yelling at Red about the gun.
The thug and I rolled around on the floor, both of us holding the gun, trying to point it at each other.
There was a loud thug and suddenly the thug loosened his grip. I pulled the gun free and looked up to see Red standing over us with her iron bar.
I fired a warning shot into the ceiling then pointed the gun at the other hooded thugs. “Stay back!”
They complied, but they did not seem interested in it. They all knew there were more of them than bullets and if they rushed me, only a couple of them would get hit before they were on me. I was hoping they wouldn’t be crazy enough to gamble that they wouldn’t be the one who got hit, but with each passing second I was less sure.
Red untied the boy and carried him over to where I was standing. The crowd of thugs was between us and the way we’d come into the gym, and I didn’t want to press my luck going past them. Instead, we headed for a side exit nearby.
“As soon as we get through the door, run.” I whispered to Red. “Go north if you can, more people.”
She gave me a nod and when we got to the door, the chase was on …
Quietly we slipped into the buildings, I steered us down the western passage and we started our search. Not for the last time that night I’d regret letting my carry permit in New York City lapse while I was out of the country. Having my carbine or my revolver would have been handy, heck, I’d have felt better if I’d had my hunting knife. Red didn’t suffer quite so much from not having a weapon, being able to crack skulls with her fists just fine.
It didn’t take us long to get to the west side of the compound. It was there that we could hear voices.
Red and I hurried down the corridor the voices were coming from and peaked through a doorway into what had been the gymnasium. At the far end, surrounded by a semi-circle of over a dozen guys in hoods was a man in robes holding an ornate blade. Behind him, hanging by his wrists from a rope looped over the basketball net was the boy.
We were in luck, the ceremony hadn’t started yet. Red shouted a battle cry and charged across the gym, I was half a step behind her.
The man in the robes raised his hand, palm out to us. A purple cloud suddenly enveloped Red and I. I could barely see her, but I heard her coughing even as I started to struggle to breath. Last thing I was aware of before the blackness overtook me was falling towards the floor…
…
My phone vibrated in my pocket, I took a quick look and sent off a do not disturb text as a reply, grateful I’d had the phone on silent mode.
Not for the last time that night I’d regret letting my carry permit in New York City lapse while I was out of the country. Having my carbine or my revolver would have been handy, heck, I’d have felt better if I’d had my hunting knife. Red didn’t suffer quite so much from not having a weapon, being able to crack skulls with her fists just fine. Looking around I picked up a piece of broken brick.
Quietly we slipped into the buildings, I steered us down the western passage and we started our search. It didn’t take us long to get to the west side of the compound. It was there that we could hear voices.
Red and I hurried down the corridor the voices were coming from and peaked through a doorway into what had been the gymnasium. At the far end, surrounded by a semi-circle of over a dozen guys in hoods was a man in robes holding an ornate blade. Behind him, hanging by his wrists from a rope looped over the basketball net was the boy.
We were in luck, the ceremony hadn’t started yet. Red shouted a battle cry and charged across the gym, I was half a step behind her. Taking a moment to fling my brick, I caught the guy with the robes square in the face. He stumbled backwards and went down hard.
Then Red and I were among the thugs. She clotheslined the first one as she ran by and kicked another in the face. I ducked a punch and caught another with an elbow to the jaw.
But there were too many of them, the numbers game was working against us. One of them tackled Red while she was lining up a punch, two or three of them immediately started stomping on her.
I tried to get to her, but one of them grabbed me from behind. Before I could squirm free, another started using my face as a speed bag…
…
My phone vibrated in my pocket, I took a quick look and sent off a do not disturb text as a reply, grateful I’d had the phone on silent mode.
Not for the last time that night I’d regret letting my carry permit in New York City lapse while I was out of the country. Having my carbine or my revolver would have been handy, heck, I’d have felt better if I’d had my hunting knife. Looking around I picked up a piece of broken brick. I suggested to Red she might want something too and she wrenched loose a cast iron bar from one of the window grills.
Quietly we slipped into the buildings, I steered us down the western passage and we started our search. It didn’t take us long to get to the west side of the compound. It was there that we could hear voices.
Red and I hurried down the corridor the voices were coming from and peaked through a doorway into what had been the gymnasium. At the far end, surrounded by a semi-circle of over a dozen guys in hoods was a man in robes holding an ornate blade. Behind him, hanging by his wrists from a rope looped over the basketball net was the boy.
We were in luck, the ceremony hadn’t started yet. Red shouted a battle cry and charged across the gym, I was half a step behind her. Taking a moment to fling my brick, I caught the guy with the robes square in the face. He stumbled backwards and went down hard.
Then Red and I were among the thugs. Her iron bar was laying them out left and right while I did what I could to keep them off her back.
We were almost at the boy when I heard a loud pop. Red stumbled forwards, blood spraying from her back.
I turned and faced down a .45 as one of the hooded thugs pulled the trigger…
…
My phone vibrated in my pocket, I took a quick look and sent off a do not disturb text as a reply, grateful I’d had the phone on silent mode.
Not for the last time that night I’d regret letting my carry permit in New York City lapse while I was out of the country. Having my carbine or my revolver would have been handy, heck, I’d have felt better if I’d had my hunting knife. Looking around I picked up a piece of broken brick. I suggested to Red she might want something too and she wrenched loose a cast iron bar from one of the window grills.
Quietly we slipped into the buildings, I steered us down the western passage and we started our search. It didn’t take us long to get to the west side of the compound. It was there that we could hear voices.
Red and I hurried down the corridor the voices were coming from and peaked through a doorway into what had been the gymnasium. At the far end, surrounded by a semi-circle of over a dozen guys in hoods was a man in robes holding an ornate blade. Behind him, hanging by his wrists from a rope looped over the basketball net was the boy.
We were in luck, the ceremony hadn’t started yet. Red shouted a battle cry and charged across the gym, I was half a step behind her. Taking a moment to fling my brick, I caught the guy with the robes square in the face. He stumbled backwards and went down hard.
Then Red and I were among the thugs. Her iron bar was laying them out left and right while I did what I could to keep them off her back.
I saw one of them reaching for something at his waist in the corner of my eye. I made a dive for him, yelling at Red about the gun.
The thug and I rolled around on the floor, both of us holding the gun, trying to point it at each other.
There was a loud thug and suddenly the thug loosened his grip. I pulled the gun free and looked up to see Red standing over us with her iron bar.
I fired a warning shot into the ceiling then pointed the gun at the other hooded thugs. “Stay back!”
They complied, but they did not seem interested in it. They all knew there were more of them than bullets and if they rushed me, only a couple of them would get hit before they were on me. I was hoping they wouldn’t be crazy enough to gamble that they wouldn’t be the one who got hit, but with each passing second I was less sure.
Red untied the boy and carried him over to where I was standing. The crowd of thugs was between us and the way we’d come into the gym, and I didn’t want to press my luck going past them. Instead, we headed for a side exit nearby.
“As soon as we get through the door, run.” I whispered to Red. “Go north if you can, more people.”
She gave me a nod and when we got to the door, the chase was on …
Last edited by Kermode on Sat Jun 03, 2017 9:39 pm, edited 1 time in total.
Re: Buisness before pleasure
I feel that you should be more diligent about responding to your texts.
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Re: Buisness before pleasure
Our exit wasn’t a hallway, but a changeroom, costing us time as we made our way through the shower area, around the storage lockers and finally to the far door. Once we were through the room we were able to hit our stride, the thugs emerging from the change room well behind us.
Unfortunately, some of them had gone down the main hallway and flanked us, jumping out at us at the turn that would have let us make it to the main entrance. I put a bullet into one as we tried to get away, but they were too close for me to get off a second shot. Red, the boy in her hands, couldn’t fight properly and they dragged her down…
…
My phone vibrated in my pocket, I took a quick look and composed a do not disturb text as a reply. I thought about it a moment, erased that and sent a more detailed response.
I regretted letting my carry permit in New York City lapse while I was out of the country. Having my carbine or my revolver would have been handy, heck, I’d have felt better if I’d had my hunting knife. I suggested to Red we should be armed and she wrenched loose a couple of cast iron bars from one of the window grills. She handed one to me. I also picked up a couple of pieces of broken brick for good measure.
Quietly we slipped into the buildings, I steered us down the second hallway that went to the west. We were passing by the change room to the old gym when we heard the voices.
Carefully Red and I sneaked through the changeroom and peaked through a doorway into what had been the gymnasium. At the far end, surrounded by a semi-circle of over a dozen guys in hoods was a man in robes holding an ornate blade. Behind him, hanging by his wrists from a rope looped over the basketball net was the boy.
We were in luck, the ceremony hadn’t started yet. Red started to make a move but I stopped her with a gentle hand on her shoulder. We’d have to pick our moment.
…
As the chanting got louder Red shot me a worried look. I just shook my head and guided her gaze to the thug with the bulge at his waist. She nodded, but I could see her muscles straining to remain still. Watching evil wasn’t her thing and every minute we waited brought her closer to the edge.
Through the gym windows, I saw the cloud part to reveal the glowing silver disk of the moon. A distant howl reached my ears. It was the sign I had been waiting for.
“On three.” I whispered, turning a hunk of brick in my hand. “One . . . two ...” I flung the brick as hard as I could. “Three!”
The brick caught the robbed man right on the temple, dropping him as Red burst forth from the change room with a battle cry.
She made a beeline for the guy I’d pointed out to her, laying into anyone who got in her way with the iron bar. I followed as close as I could, my own iron bar keeping them off me.
Soon we were fighting back to back, the guy with the bulge in his robes crumpled unconscious below us. His companions trying to charge in at us and being beaten back alternately.
“This is a standoff.” Red complained, a swing sending one of the thugs reeling.
“We’re good, trust me.” I replied.
As if on cue, they arrived.
Even though I hadn’t ever seen them before, I knew them to be brothers on sight. Five large bruisers and one smaller guy leading the charge. They set on the thugs in a rush, ruthless and brutal, they broke bones and cracked heads to make sure everybody went down fast and stayed down.
Walking in behind them was someone I’d seen before, a lean, leggy blonde. She wouldn’t have looked out of place presiding over the royal court, but every time I saw her I heard the rattle of chains. I’d gotten into the habit of thinking of her as the Slave Queen.
She surveyed the damage the brothers had done then looked at me with her golden eyes. “We got your message. I trust things are okay.”
I looked over at the boy, who was finally safe. “Yeah, as soon as I get the kid home.”
The Slave Queen nodded at that. “What of these ones?”
I shrugged. “Up to you, but that guy,” I pointed to the robed one I’d pegged with the rock, “is probably the one you want to talk to.”
…
Red and I had the boy home by sunrise.
The airline didn’t give me my money back for the tickets.
Unfortunately, some of them had gone down the main hallway and flanked us, jumping out at us at the turn that would have let us make it to the main entrance. I put a bullet into one as we tried to get away, but they were too close for me to get off a second shot. Red, the boy in her hands, couldn’t fight properly and they dragged her down…
…
My phone vibrated in my pocket, I took a quick look and composed a do not disturb text as a reply. I thought about it a moment, erased that and sent a more detailed response.
I regretted letting my carry permit in New York City lapse while I was out of the country. Having my carbine or my revolver would have been handy, heck, I’d have felt better if I’d had my hunting knife. I suggested to Red we should be armed and she wrenched loose a couple of cast iron bars from one of the window grills. She handed one to me. I also picked up a couple of pieces of broken brick for good measure.
Quietly we slipped into the buildings, I steered us down the second hallway that went to the west. We were passing by the change room to the old gym when we heard the voices.
Carefully Red and I sneaked through the changeroom and peaked through a doorway into what had been the gymnasium. At the far end, surrounded by a semi-circle of over a dozen guys in hoods was a man in robes holding an ornate blade. Behind him, hanging by his wrists from a rope looped over the basketball net was the boy.
We were in luck, the ceremony hadn’t started yet. Red started to make a move but I stopped her with a gentle hand on her shoulder. We’d have to pick our moment.
…
As the chanting got louder Red shot me a worried look. I just shook my head and guided her gaze to the thug with the bulge at his waist. She nodded, but I could see her muscles straining to remain still. Watching evil wasn’t her thing and every minute we waited brought her closer to the edge.
Through the gym windows, I saw the cloud part to reveal the glowing silver disk of the moon. A distant howl reached my ears. It was the sign I had been waiting for.
“On three.” I whispered, turning a hunk of brick in my hand. “One . . . two ...” I flung the brick as hard as I could. “Three!”
The brick caught the robbed man right on the temple, dropping him as Red burst forth from the change room with a battle cry.
She made a beeline for the guy I’d pointed out to her, laying into anyone who got in her way with the iron bar. I followed as close as I could, my own iron bar keeping them off me.
Soon we were fighting back to back, the guy with the bulge in his robes crumpled unconscious below us. His companions trying to charge in at us and being beaten back alternately.
“This is a standoff.” Red complained, a swing sending one of the thugs reeling.
“We’re good, trust me.” I replied.
As if on cue, they arrived.
Even though I hadn’t ever seen them before, I knew them to be brothers on sight. Five large bruisers and one smaller guy leading the charge. They set on the thugs in a rush, ruthless and brutal, they broke bones and cracked heads to make sure everybody went down fast and stayed down.
Walking in behind them was someone I’d seen before, a lean, leggy blonde. She wouldn’t have looked out of place presiding over the royal court, but every time I saw her I heard the rattle of chains. I’d gotten into the habit of thinking of her as the Slave Queen.
She surveyed the damage the brothers had done then looked at me with her golden eyes. “We got your message. I trust things are okay.”
I looked over at the boy, who was finally safe. “Yeah, as soon as I get the kid home.”
The Slave Queen nodded at that. “What of these ones?”
I shrugged. “Up to you, but that guy,” I pointed to the robed one I’d pegged with the rock, “is probably the one you want to talk to.”
…
Red and I had the boy home by sunrise.
The airline didn’t give me my money back for the tickets.
Last edited by Kermode on Tue Oct 31, 2017 9:32 pm, edited 1 time in total.
Re: Buisness before pleasure
That sounds more like the version of the story I had heard. Why all the varied versions of the story?
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Re: Buisness before pleasure
Let's see if I can explain this without getting too metaphysical.
My gifts will, from time to time, give me insight on the future. Usually this is a snapshot of something that serves as a clue as to what is coming.
More occasionally, the vision will be more detailed. It'll show me an entire episode.
Now none of these things are perfectly accurate because little changes I make in my behavior knowing the outcome of events can change thoae events.
In the case of my trip to Staten Island I encountered something that is even rarer and only seems to happen when a life or death event is concerned.
I got to see all the futures. I really do mean all. I just posted a few so everyone could kinda get the point. In that split second my finger hovered above the send button I saw the outcome of every decision I would make in the next hour. I saw every success and every failure. I saw myself, Red and the kid each die a hundred times. But I only saw one sequence in which all three of us walked out of there, so I deleted the message I was going to send and sent a different one asking for help.
Everything else worked out from there.
My gifts will, from time to time, give me insight on the future. Usually this is a snapshot of something that serves as a clue as to what is coming.
More occasionally, the vision will be more detailed. It'll show me an entire episode.
Now none of these things are perfectly accurate because little changes I make in my behavior knowing the outcome of events can change thoae events.
In the case of my trip to Staten Island I encountered something that is even rarer and only seems to happen when a life or death event is concerned.
I got to see all the futures. I really do mean all. I just posted a few so everyone could kinda get the point. In that split second my finger hovered above the send button I saw the outcome of every decision I would make in the next hour. I saw every success and every failure. I saw myself, Red and the kid each die a hundred times. But I only saw one sequence in which all three of us walked out of there, so I deleted the message I was going to send and sent a different one asking for help.
Everything else worked out from there.
Re: Buisness before pleasure
I believe I can actually relate to the concept of analyzing multiple paths and sub-paths before selecting the optimal desired outcome. So thank you for sharing, I have a better understanding of you and your abilities now.
I am glad you decided to request help. I believe we can all get by with a little help from our friends.
I am glad you decided to request help. I believe we can all get by with a little help from our friends.
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Gotham Witch
- Posts: 457
- Joined: Fri Nov 26, 2010 9:11 pm
- Location: Queens, New York
Re: Buisness before pleasure
I still rarely go to south Manhattan. I'm not sensitive to it as you seem to be, but it still leaves me feeling... uneasy.
Anyway, this was an interesting read and I'm glad the boy made it home safe. I'm curious who this group was, but it probably doesn't matter anymore depending upon what happened to the cultists after this. I imagine nothing pleasant.
Anyway, this was an interesting read and I'm glad the boy made it home safe. I'm curious who this group was, but it probably doesn't matter anymore depending upon what happened to the cultists after this. I imagine nothing pleasant.
"God have mercy on a man, who doubts what he's sure of." - Bruce Springsteen
Re: Buisness before pleasure
The Brothers and the Slave Queen don't strike me as particularly squeamish, no.
I'm sure they will tell you what they found out if you ask them nicely enough.
I'm sure they will tell you what they found out if you ask them nicely enough.
Re: Buisness before pleasure
It's a little odd to call her the Slave Queen, I think. I guess it's a matter of different perceptions however. The brothers on the other hand, are definitely the brothers. I don't think I could think of them as anything else.
And while there are things we can't discuss publicly here, they'll yap about it to anyone who'll listen. They're like that.
And while there are things we can't discuss publicly here, they'll yap about it to anyone who'll listen. They're like that.
Hi! I'm Cynthia and I am my mother's daughter.
Defunct the strings
Of cemetary things
With one flat foot
On the devil's wing
Defunct the strings
Of cemetary things
With one flat foot
On the devil's wing
Re: Buisness before pleasure
When my gifts give me insight into a person, sometimes I see what they are, sometimes I see what they will be and sometimes I see how they perceive themselves.
Usually it's a mixture of all of the above and I have to tease it apart.
With her, Slave Queen fit what I saw.
Usually it's a mixture of all of the above and I have to tease it apart.
With her, Slave Queen fit what I saw.
Re: Buisness before pleasure
Got home from being out of town for a while, have an invitation to the kid's birthday party.
A slice of birthday cake is the best payback for this, ever.
A slice of birthday cake is the best payback for this, ever.
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Jack_Fisher
- Posts: 185
- Joined: Thu Aug 23, 2018 4:11 pm
Re: Buisness before pleasure
It's always good when things turn out that way. Here's hoping my current hunt ends well.
Jack
Jack
Re: Buisness before pleasure
Yeah, good luck to you.
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Jack_Fisher
- Posts: 185
- Joined: Thu Aug 23, 2018 4:11 pm
Re: Buisness before pleasure
Thanks, I'll need it.
Jack
Jack
