The Luck Thief (Part 1)

Sheriff Duncan Kettleborn released the latches and locks on his tomb. The air was still quite cold and would be for several days. Spring was here and he had a year before he'd return to the tomb. Pestle was always slow to awake after Falcon's  Winter. Duncan always got out as early as possible. He could still see the last blue waves in the far east. However crime was always at the worst this time of year. Many people are broke after preparing for the winter and try to get out and at people's valuables quickly. Personally Duncan opposed the commercialization of survival, but as the sheriff didn't have to pay for his tomb he had little ground danger to himself and much if he opposed the system as it stood.

Lost in his thoughts and still stretching outside his tomb Duncan did not notice Deputy Phil Larson walk up behind him.
"We've got a suspected homicide. Woman froze to death outside her tomb key in hand. Strangest thing I've seen for awhile." Phil speaks everything in the same monotone. One reason Duncan found him invaluable, the deputy never got riled up or emotional about crime. He was always focused sometimes too serious. It has been said he leaves his tomb before it is safe and that he survives with magic. Duncan doesn't care about such practices, but the people of the Outer Wilds live there to stay out of the magical conflicts of the "civilized" regions and therefore don't trust those who practice magics. For whatever reason or ways Duncan is certain Phil has been out for at least a day now.
"Guess I've spent all my vacation stretching. Lead the way Phil." Duncan was still stiff. His provided quarters were scant and tight, but they were better than most could afford. Originally used as mines the miners lived down in the vaults year round and once the mine dried up the owners added gates and enclosures and made them tombs for rent. Used to be everyone lived underground out in the wilds. Slowly and violently civilization comes sooner or later. Duncan just shrugged at this thought and continued following Phil. It wasn't far to the Vault it was only across the thorough fair. All the vaults rested on the mountain side of Pestle. They look like a line of giant coffins. The sheriff guessed that was in fact what they are.
"She melted out a bit, but otherwise she is the same as when I found her." Duncan didn't like what he was seeing at all. There were always people who got trapped out in the winter, but this was not normal. She had her key in hand and was at her door. The way she looked off towards the mountain like someone had been standing there. If there had been someone there how were they still alive.
"Lets move her quick. Last thing we need is people thinking we got an ice walker in town. We'll check out her tomb once we have her at the Doc's." Duncan shivered at the thought. Wizards that lived for Falcon's Winter when there powers manifested 100 fold. Most of them were mad and extremely violent. The time following winter was when they released there pent up fury. Many an Outer Wild town has been taken over by an ice walker. Turning the place into a small winter kingdom. At least for a month or two when there power would finally wane.  Then they'd usually disappear only to return with Falcon.
"You really think we have an ice walker boss?" Phil sounded alarmed. This was unusual.
"No, but I know how gossip works here. Pestle will be stringing up anyone with a cup of ice by weeks end if word gets out." Duncan hated to admit it was true, but survival out here lended itself to a level of phobia.

They had her wrapped up nice and neat for Doctor Vivian Garnet. She would be out in the next day or two and she would want to look at the body. Lucky there was plenty of ice in the town to keep the corpse fresh.

Back at the tomb Phil turned the key and opened the first gate no problem. The men crouched down and walked down the steep steps to the next gate. This one as smaller and thicker. Opening it they saw the place had been left untouched. Whatever happened to the girl it was not a robbery. The little six by six by six room as even smaller than the sheriff's. He understood why so many went insane during Falcon's winter. A week of captivity like this can ruin anyone's mind.

Looking in her cupboards they saw she had the usual provisions. It was regretful that the mine owners would claim her assets, but such was how the law worked. Concerning everything she left in the tomb. They stumble on their first luck when Phil saw a journal wrapped in her bedroll.

After perusing for a few seconds Phil looked up, "Her name was Jocelyn Rivers. Her family were very wealthy only ten winters or so ago. Some say that there luck ran out. She was the last surviving heir to the estate. Which was scant at this point. Apparently she had to work at the Golden Sun just to make ends meet. I'd say once we speak with the Vault Officer we will need to go there."
"Sound like a plan Phil. Once you've finished reading the journal leave it on my desk at the office. I need to finish the rounds."
"Alright boss. Don't be out too late you know it'll still be cold."
"I got my duster it'll be fine. Thanks for the concern." With that Duncan crawled his way out. And all he could think of was what he'd dreamed over and over in the tomb.



P.S. I hope you are looking forward to Part 2. Something that I always strive to think about in my world creation is who has the power. As you can tell the Sheriff is more of a figure head. Sure he stops lawlessness, but the true power is held by the Vault owners. Since survival is always paramount it is an easily held power.

The Luck Thief (PL)

Prelude

Jocelyn looked up and saw the alignment of Falcon, Estaria's largest moon, and she knew winter would hit within the hour. She was rushing to get home. Anyone caught outside would die within minutes of exposure. As she ran through the all but empty streets she chastised herself for taking the winter closing shift at the saloon. She knew the dangers, but the pay had been too tempting. She was too receive 3 Griffon Marks assuming the bar lasted the week. She had closed everything properly and knew she would get paid. Now the only question was will she survive the next hour.

Jocelyn noticed a figure as she passed the alley beside the Golden Sun, the tavern she works at. The eyes shown red from the silhouette.

"My dear, would you be able to give a Dog to a poor man? It is all the money I need for a shelter. I will die otherwise." His voice was strange and not entirely real. She didn't want to stop she felt like she had no time, but she couldn't let him die. She searched her pocket and found a single Dog Coin. It was all she had left after stocking up on supplies and she knew a huge pay day was coming.

"This is all I have." and she threw it to him. The man caught the coin and smiled. Or at least Jocelyn sensed that he had smiled. It was then that Jocelyn felt the first wave of winter rush over her. She nodded to the man and ran.

"Thank you!" he shouted at her from the dark of the alley.

She was still about twenty minutes away from her personal shelter. She was poor and couldn't afford one of the nicer shelters. It was expensive to heat the larger spaces. She always felt claustrophobic inside her tomb, but she would live.

Her breath was starting to burn both from exertion and the cold. But she could see the rows of doors that were part of her vault structure. This vault structure housed about 40 individual tombs and 10 family tombs. No tombs were connected to prevent any breaks that could take out the entire vault. Her vault was on the opposite side she was getting so cold.

Falcon was rising a cold blue orb that filled the skyline. Larger than the sun this orb of death marked the new year. Everything would be born again once Falcon finally set. Falcon passes around Estaria once a year and all regions mark its path around Estaria instead of Estaria's path around the sun.

She was finally at her door, with no time to spare she reached in her pocket. She couldn't feel it. Ripping her pocket out it was empty. Where was her key. The vault door was unmovable without a key. She swore to the Fifteen and turned out her other pockets two at a time. It wasn't there. The office would have closed hours ago. Just like everything else in Pestle.

Already everything started to go numb. Breathing was pain she huddled against the door barely able to search her pockets any more. But that was her only hope.

Her fingertips could feel nothing. The cold was inescapable. Jocelyn fought back the impending, but it was too much.  Pulling her hands from her pockets she slowly opened her fingers which were turning black. And in her palm sat the key. As she died she thought she saw the red eyes staring at her from the white darkness of Falcon's Winter.

P.S.

Not sure how many parts this story will be, but it is based off of a campaign idea I had. I don't get to role play at all any more. So, I decided to write the story. The world of Estaria will become more richly detailed as you read, but it has been very fun for me to mentally design.

The Doctrine of Deciet Pt. 2

It is about 45 years later that we see the next mention of Tobias Gaylord this is through the writings of a traveling minstrel named Thad the Gallant. Thad the Gallant was popular in that he did not allow his performances to ever be recorded and that he could only be viewed and heard live. He had some sort of technology that he used to prevent even hidden cameras and microphones from working. Many would be thieves were rewarded with nothing, but static and a mocking laughter.

Thad mentions Tobias in an interview at New Burg's top news broadcast Fairly Accurate News or the FAN. The FAN is in fact a semi-intelligent AI leftover from before the first fall. Though it is capable of learning it has yet to reach what scientists consider sentience. The FAN was built in order to create an unbiased news system. It was lost during the Third Downfall. Though many of its databases were recovered the interview dictated below was amongst them.

“The FAN: In your music you often speak out against various beliefs that are common amongst denizens of Earth, what is it you personally believe? (His vagueness is actually a fault in his programming and not an attempt at subterfuge.)

Thad: I doubt you would be familiar with the teaching of Tobias Gaylord, but to put things bluntly I don't believe in this world.

The FAN: Your answer seems illogical. You do not believe in your own consciousness?

Thad: I believe that the perceived is merely the trappings of interpreted inputs. To tap into other inputs can cause other worlds to exist giving the perception of new trappings, but in actuality opening up the true reality. But a single consciousness is not capable nor able to do this. So, no I don't even believe in my own consciousness.

The FAN: What you say sounds like some sort of multiverse theory could you elaborate in order for me to compare this with other doctrines I have stored in my databases.

Thad: I thought this was supposed to be about my music? This goddamn interview is over. I've already said too much... Stop the fu...”

In fact there are several records of Thad's attempted lawsuits in order to have that interview removed from any and all records including the memory banks of the FAN. Thad actually found himself in financial ruin after years of fighting the FAN. He completely disappears from all records in the year 2410.

The Doctrine of Deceit Pt. 1

In the year 2525 a new wave of religious dogma was introduced to the general populace. This of course was shortly after the Third Downfall in the year 2462. The third downfall having left most of the remainder of humanity in chaos left room for a new form of zealotry to rise. This often happens during periods of upheaval. The religion however is much older than the year 2525. It began in the little village of Little Pine which is just outside New Burg, the now super city once known in the 20th and 21st centuries as Pittsburgh. This village was quite rare in that approximately 45% of the population still claimed to believe in a higher power. This is much higher than the world average of only 25%. So, it is with great ease the leader of this new religion Tobias Gaylord was able to gain a foothold amongst the citizenry. The first mention of this religion in the town records is on September 16th 2350. It was in the Little Pine Recorder as a letter to the public and is quoted below.

"To Whom It May Concern,                                

It has come to my attention that the Little Pine community is at a loss for what it is that causes their current plight. I however have the answer and will be freely answering all questions concerning it at a meeting taking place in my church on September the 17th at noon.

Sincerely,   

Tobias Gaylord

The plight that he is referring to could only be the Plague of Roses which was a virus that had taken more than 1,000 lives in Little Pine and 45,000 lives in New Burg which was the epicenter of the disease. This of course was a grievous number due to the fact that as of the Second Downfall, 2285, the population of humanity had only re-surged to approximately 2.5 billion. This is compared to the 55 billion that had been around prior to the First Downfall, 2120.

Strangely enough the events of Gaylord's Q&A with the community is not mentioned, but Little Pine does not report any more deaths caused by the Plague of Roses. Even as the Plague ravishes the surrounding areas and totals at 10 million killed before a cure is discovered in 2352.

TBC...

#7

It had been a week since they'd last spoken. Kirk didn't know what to do his mind was playing tricks on him. He would hear someone's voice and think it was Kate. He would see someone walking away and he'd think it was her. It made no matter because he had allowed himself to falter he had failed himself and thus he was unable to find out the truth.

Kirk continued at his tasks like a zombie. Work was a trial and he was failing dying under the weight of his indecision. The incessant grinding of his thoughts tearing his soul apart. He questioned everything he had done. He questioned everything he said and thought. His mind was turmoil, yet he was numb to everything else. His heart would burn with nervous regret and his mind would ache with the question. It was inseparable from his reality. No matter how hard he tried it was always there nagging and tearing.

A simple question that even children have mastered was the question Kirk could not, and would not ask. How should he do it? A text, a phone call, in person, in private, or where or how? It nagged at him and tore at his insides like a cancer. Spreading to everything. Food was tasteless and his initiative was nil.

Soon, Kirk was questioning everything he did around her. He was questioning looking at Kate, smiling at her. He didn't know how to act he didn't know how to react. He was lost in his mind and everything had become estranged. But it didn't matter because Kirk had managed another chance. Kate was going to meet him for lunch at this burger place down the road from the coffee shop they had met.

Kirk got there early. He was always early. He couldn't help it, because this was his preoccupation. Kate walked through the door like a whirlwind. She stopped his heart and dropped his jaw like electric shock. Her foot steps were like dancers and a simple glance from her could start a fire. She sat opposite him and lazily resting on her elbow. She eyed him like he was an alien. He then realized he was staring. His eyes awoke as if from a dream and met hers.

"So, what'cha in the mood for? I hear that the cheeseburgers here are pretty good." Kirk tried to sound smart or caring or anything but as desperate and nervous as he felt.

"Um, I dunno..." she looked at the menu and drew out her words as if in thought. He loved the way she bit her lip as she read the options.

"I think I'll be going with the number seven. It has jalapenos on it. I love jalapenos." he laughed... it wasn't a joke and he laughed. He was drowning.

"Oh, I think I'll go with the number 4. I like simple cheeseburgers. None of that triple, double, extra cheese, special sauce with a salad on top monstrosities." she looked at him with a knowing smirk on his lips.

#7 The Jalapeno Explosion Burger - Double patties, extra bacon, 

special sauce, extra cheese, lettuce, tomato, pickles, jalapenos, 

and onion.

"Yeah those monstrosities are disgusting."

After several minutes their burgers arrive.

The waitress placed what could only be describe as a heaping pile of protein and arterial clotting death with a side of fries. In front of Kate was placed a small cheeseburger without any additives. Kate burst out laughing the moment the waitress stepped away. Kirk couldn't help himself and laughed as well.

"I suppose if I ever had to eat a monstrosity it'd have to be to protect you from certain danger at the hand of a burger monster." he laughed and stabbed his fork into the burger dramatically. The ice was finally broken. He felt in control again.

They were walking out of the burger place and Kirk looked at Kate. She looked back at him. He wanted to kiss her so badly. He wanted to hold her to him. He wanted to never leave her side.

"Well, I hope we can do this again soon. I had a really good time." Kirk heard the words leaving his lips and he couldn't stop them. That isn't what he had practised!

"Yeah, I had a great time too. I definitely think we should do this again." she watched him. He thought it was expectantly. Like she wanted him to kiss her.

Kirk patted Kate on the shoulder and walked her to her car. He wanted to shove her against the car and finally kiss her. She started to get into her car.

"I really did have a good time, don't be a stranger okay?" Kate looked up at him from the driver's seat.

"Yeah we definitely have to do this again." He turned around. He walked away. His whole body in turmoil. He heard her car start. He watched her pull out. He watched her drive away. He sat on the sidelines of his life and couldn't help but know this might have been his last chance and even if it wasn't would another chance make any difference.

Kirk drove home in silence. He went to bed in silence. He awoke to silence. He lived in silence. The world was a haze of disappointment and he wasn't even trying anymore. As he walked into the coffee shop he saw Kate sitting in the corner in front of her laptop. She was reading something and didn't seem to notice him coming in. He walked to the counter and ordered a black coffee to go. He didn't see the point in ordering anything fancy when he couldn't even taste it.

He waited at the counter and tried to not look at the corner. His back was to it as best he could. Until he felt a tap on his shoulder. Turning around Kate was right there. Right in front of him.

"You're so awkward." was all she said as she leaned forward and kissed him. His mind exploded into chaos. Heat spread through him like lightning and he woke up for the first time in days. His hands went around her and his lips opened to hers. He closed his eyes and felt everything. He could feel her sweated against his finger tips and he could feel her hot breath against his cheek. As they separated she looked at him again. "You better call me you idiot." She had her bag on her shoulder and walked out the door.

Christian the Beast Pt. 2

Well, this one ended up being a pretty long one. I hope you enjoy this is Christian the Beast part 2.

Part 1.

Part 2.

Christian arrived at the rendezvous about an hour early. He took account of all quick exits and lazily leaned back once he was secure in the fact no one could sneak up on him. The first traveler arrived about thirty minutes early. Christian was actually kind of impressed. This traveler was male and the youngest of the group he had met the night before. The man was probably thirty-four years old. He had scruffy and a lighter shade than most hair. The hair hung down past his ears. His eyes were near black however. The eyes darted back and forth. He was obviously looking for some sort of ambush. Regretfully his senses were not so keen. He didn't even notice Christian in the windowsill only one story above his head.

Christian landed softly on the ground behind the man and quietly drew his dagger. He had a clawed hand on the mans chin and the dagger on his throat. Making the throat completely exposed to the blade. The man panicked and would have slit his own throat if Christian hadn't released him.

“Can't panic like that out in the wastes. You'll get us killed or at least yourself.” Christian laughed as he spoke. The man rubbed his neck as if he had been cut. Christian had not harmed the man in the slightest.

“You could have killed me. Why the hell did you do that?” the man eyed Christian suspiciously.

“I explained already. You act like that out in the wastes and you are dead. Go get the rest of your group. There are no traps waiting for you here at least.” Christian didn't give the man time to reply and bounded back up to the root tops.

The man left hesitantly and was even more cautious. Christian stayed visible till the man turned a corner out of sight. Once the man was gone Christian went into hiding yet again. A little while later the group showed up. Christian jumped down in front of them and gestured for silence. He then held out his hand for the payment. The handed him several pieces of electronics and mechanics. Being reasonably satisfied with the payment Christian turned around and started showing them to the trapdoor he had made. It was strange that the only thing that the various factions would both try and prevent was an escape. Apparently they wanted to keep everyone inside to kill or dominate.

The trapdoor was little more than a section of wall that he had made a removable beam for. Once the beam was taken out the section would fall about one foot from the wall and allow passage to the outside. Christian would then close the door and climb the shear wall before anyone could notice him. The group waited outside the wall as if frozen. Christian hated when they would just stand there. It left them exposed and the infected seemed to be drawn to fear. There were no nearby infect however. Christian had cleared the area before he met the group. It would be safe for at least another day. He waved them on and started towards his unmarked trail. It would be near dark once they reached the first safe house. He hoped they wouldn't make it without him getting to tear out at least one or two infected throats.

After an hour of nothing Christian's ears perked up to the sound of a distant rustling. He gestured for the group to stop. One started to open his mouth and Christian slapped his hand over the man's mouth. It was an experience he did not enjoy, but the groups always wanted to ask why they were stopping. A couple seconds later he heard the sound getting closer. It was now at a run. It could only be one thing if it was running towards them. Crouching down Christian drew out his dagger. In the other hand he had a chain with various bladed hooks on it. He started spinning the chain slowly and listened for the infected.

Bursting out of the trees the infected charged the woman nearest his entry into the clearing. Christian's chain went through the air and with a quick jerk had the infected's flesh hooked and pulled it off its feet. Once it was on the ground Christian pounced. His dagger stabbed the creature through the eye and his teeth tore into its throat. In the course of mere seconds Christian had the infected dispatched and cleaned his dagger. Once the chain was coiled again they were on their way. The entire group stared. He felt their eyes on him. It caused Christian to clean the flesh and blood from his mouth. He hated to lose the taste of the blood so soon, but the travelers were his number one priority and he didn't need any of their distractions.

The rest of the day went by uneventfully they had made it to the first of the seven safe houses between New Richmond and Liberty Village. The safe house was minimally furnished it had about three small mattresses on the floor. And some straw in the corners. The walls however were solid concrete and the single room safe house only had two entrances. A solid steel door and a solid steel hatch. Both of which Christian had made thick chain locks for. Nothing would get in, this however did not guarantee that the night would be without some noise. The infected loved to crash against the doors at night. Christian hoped that the group would get some sleep. Nothing was worse than exhausted humans. They would slow him down and endanger themselves. Once everyone was secure and laying down Christian went out the hatch. Locking it behind him he climbed the nearest tree and took watch. Slowly he allowed sleep to overcome him.

Christian the Beast Pt. 1

So, we are starting a new story. I hope you enjoy this post-apocalyptic anti-hero. Christian the Beast as been sampled before here. It have thought about what direction I would take with his story for some time now and I feel that it will be a fairly simple one. I hope you all are not disappointed by it. Enjoy!

Christian the Beast

Christian laughed to himself as he watched the humans killing each other. Pushed to brink of extinction yet they still battled one another. Christian laughed again as blood dripped down his chin. The battle had been going on and off for days. It had driven most of the game away and drawn an inordinate amount of infected. But the humans ignored the infected as long as they were on the other side of a fence. Christian hated it inside the fences. The current territory he sat above was called New Virginia. He laughed at that though since it was actually only a small section of Richmond that had been recovered and re-purposed. New Virginia was experiencing its third civil conflict since the collapse. Christian always showed up when he heard gunfire however, because when humans fought it meant someone would want to flee. And that flight gave him the opportunity for work. Humans would trade all sorts of knick-knacks for safe travels outside their fences. Christian really had no use for them, but he enjoyed the excursions and it was fun making the humans squirm when they saw him.

It wasn't that Christian was ugly. In fact if he had a species he would probably be a fine specimen of them at their peak condition, but Christian had never met anyone else like himself. He was similar to both man and cat. He stood around 7ft fully erect, but his natural stance was a hunched nearly pouncing position. He could see in the dark though he did not see color. He could smell like an animal, yet he spoke like a man. His body was completely covered in red and blond hair. He was nearly orange at times. His ears were feline. His claws were definitely feline. And his teeth were used for tearing meat. He would eat grains on occasion and they work well enough, but he preferred raw flesh, much like the venison he was eating as he watched the battle below. It was then that he saw the signal.

Stalking silently through the streets he arrived at the gate where his charges awaited.

“Do you have the payment?” growled Christian from behind the group. They all jumped and spun around with weapons raised. Christian simply spread his hands in a gesture of submission. The group consisted of three men and a woman. The men were all in their mid thirties. The woman however was probably about twenty or twenty-two.

“Yeah we got your payment. Half now, half when we 'all' arrive safe at Liberty Village.” the man holding a weathered machete said. Despite his attempt at bravery in renegotiating the terms Christian could smell his fear. Christian however didn't care about the payment.

“Fine. We leave at first light before the fighting starts. Any of you are late and they get left. You leave precisely when I say or I leave you.” Christian jumped to the window about ten feet above them and was soon on the roofs before the group could protest.

Christian slept watching the stars. He had heard that before the infection happened you couldn't see the stars at night. Christian thought again and not for the last time that the infection was probably a good thing, but Christian didn't know anything before he woke up and the world was how it is now. Christian slept well despite the continued gunfire throughout the night.

A Door into the Past Pt. 11

So, I hope you are ready for part 11 because it is crazy and it is starting now. Enjoy!

Part 1.

Last Week.

Part 11.

As the water washed over him it burnt the torn flesh. He hardly felt the pain. His body was weak and numb. If he care more he would have probably gone to the hospital. But Marcus didn't care. Life hardly seemed worth living and he was finally going to get some answers. Turning off the water he jumped out of the shower and dried off. He put on his work clothes and walked over to the ax that he had gotten from the garage. Walking from the master bath to his bedroom and out into the hall. Marcus looked at the door. It seemed a waste that he was about to destroy it, but he was tired of not knowing.

The first crash did little more than dent the wood in the middle of the door. The second cut out a chunk between it and the first. Soon the wood was splintering in several places. Though Marcus was sweating and his forehead was bleeding again he did not stop. The door was thick. He was about an inch into it and his arms were burning. A few more strikes and he could tell it was weakening. Finally the ax got stuck as it broke through the door. Marcus put his eye up to the hole, but couldn't see anything. It was too small. He started again with the ax. The floor was thick with blood and splinters. It was a mess, but his goal was ever closer. Soon the hole was big enough that he could see what lied behind the door.

Looking into the hole Marcus saw a wall. Marcus started cutting at the door again, soon he was cutting at the far wall too. After a couple swats he could see through the wall. It led outside. He could see the yard and a tree that was growing to the side of the house.

Marcus dropped the ax. His hands were blistered and bleeding.

“It was just a door. It didn't go anywhere.” his dispair was evident. The gun was still on the floor. His eyes fell on it fully. As he bent over for the gun he caught himself watching the keyhole again. He forced himself to look away. His eyes closed he put the tip of the gun in his mouth.

It was cold and smooth. He could even taste the residue from when he had shot himself earlier. There was a little blood on the muzzle as well. He angle the pistol to the top of his skull. It was almost too big for his mouth. He gaged a little with it inside. He didn't know what to do with his tongue. It felt like it was in the way. He supposed that it didn't matter. So he felt the draw of the trigger. It was stiff. It took more effort than he had expected. The hammer fell. He heard it crack down against the pin. But nothing happened. Opening his eyes he saw the keyhole. It was glowing.

He took the gun out of his mouth. Placing it on the floor he went to the door and it opened. Inside he saw Mr. Blake's office.

“Your not really considering Marcus are you?” Thomas asked Mr. Blake. Thomas was sitting in a chair in front of Mr. Blake's desk. Mr. Blake leaned against the desk looking down his nose at Thomas.

“Of course not Thomas, but I have to make it appear that all candidates are considered and it always increases people's workloads when they think a promotion is on the line.” Mr. Blake said off-handedly.

“Mr. Blake, Thomas has done so much for this company. He deserves it so much more than I do.” Thomas was pleading with Mr. Blake.

“I'm sorry Thomas. This isn't up for discussion. You can pass on the promotion, but Marcus is best served where he is at now.” Mr. Blake turned his back to Thomas and went around the desk to his own seat. Laughing he looked at Thomas. “I've never had such a hard time convincing someone to make more money.”

The room changed it was the living room of the house. Abigail was sitting on the couch next to a man in silhouette. The man caressed her leg and she giggle with pleasure. Soon the man came into focus. It was Marcus. Moments later they were making love on the floor. Marcus remembered the night very well now that he saw it in the proper perspective.

Again the room faded out and changed. It was a waiting room. He instantly recognized it as the one from the earlier vision when he saw Abigail sitting there with Jenny.

“Marcus wouldn't understand.” Abigail said to Jenny there were tears in her eyes.

“He'd understand that you aren't ready to have a kid. You want to finish college first.” Jenny spoke comfortingly.

“No Jenny. I'm getting this abortion and Marcus must never know. He'd hate me forever if he knew. And I'm pretty sure he's the one. I just can't lose him. He can't know because I need him more than ever now.” They both were crying as the nurse came in the room and called Abigail's name. She went back and the vision faded.

Lastly a scene Marcus had not yet seen came into focus. It was the hallway and blood was everywhere. Splinters of wood littered the floor and on the ground was his body. The top of his skull was missing in its place was a pool of gray matter and skull fractures. Abigail was being held back by a paramedic. She was crying and Thomas was trying to comfort her. His face was stained with tears. They were both shaking with grief and Marcus couldn't take the visions anymore. He started towards the opening and fell into a brilliant light.

Opening his eyes he heard the hammer crack down onto the pin and felt fire in his mouth.

The End.

Sketch of the Week 13

Okay so I decided to play with one of my pictures yet again. This time I decided to try something a little more subtle. I hope you enjoy.

Original Photo by Matthew Jones

Original Photo Edit by Matthew Jones

A Door into the Past Pt. 10

There is a heavy weight on my soul as I draw near the ending of this story. It is hard to imagine a pleasant or happy ending. Now mind you that was never the intention of the story, I have always intended this story to end in a less than pleasant manner. But I almost feel like I know Marcus now. Perhaps you all don't know him as well as I do. Since you are limited to what I tell you and I probably do not relay enough information. But Marcus is just a normal man who has realized he doesn't know anything about the people in his life. That everything he knows is probably a lie. That is a heavy weight. I feel that weight as I write out his story. I hope that I transfer some of that emotion to you the reader, because if I don't. Well, then I might as well not be writing it.

Part 1.
Last Week.
Part 10.

Two Weeks Later

Marcus was sitting in front of the door. The house was so quite. He could hear himself think or maybe he was talking to himself. It didn't matter. He was on a forced vacation. He suspected it was better than being fired. Nonetheless he was probably too tired to go back anyway. He hadn't spoken to Abigail since she moved everything out a week ago. She said she was staying with her sister. And that if he wanted to talk all he had to do was call. Marcus however did not want to talk. He didn't want to think or feel. Things had gotten dark the sun had set and Marcus was no longer lost in the twilight. He was beyond hope.

Looking down at his hand Marcus realize how heavy the gun was. He had known before that they were so heavy. Everyone always used them like they were toys in the movies. But they were pieces of steel pieced together. Working flawlessly. He held the tip of the barrel against his temple. It was cold and a welcome distraction. When the steel was pressed against his head he forgot about everything. He only felt, alive.

Marcus' leg was shaking, a nervous habit he had never outgrown. His eyes were clenched shut but he still noticed the slight change in light as the keyhole lit up. The door did it every time Marcus was about to end the pain. Yet, it never failed Marcus would take the gun away form his head and lean forward.

“What terrible truth do you have in mind for me today?” looking through the keyhole Marcus saw a room filled with ornamentation. They were Christmas decorations. In fact the room was in Marcus' childhood home. The same room he decorated every year with his brother. But not this year. This was the year Marcus had decorated alone. Jeremy had died that year. Into the room walked Marcus' mother and father. They were talking. She was crying as she did that entire year.

“Jeremy was a good boy. I don't care what the police say.” Daniel, Marcus' father, was angry. It was anything new. Daniel had been angry long before the accident.

“But they said he had purposefully driven his car into that hillside. They said it was the only explanation.” Pearl, Marcus' mother, was weeping. She had always been emotional. Marcus remembered that every time he got in trouble it would end with him consoling his mother.

“No he'd never do that. He was always so happy...” Daniel didn't seem so certain, he anger abated somewhat, “wasn't he?”

Marcus walked into the room. He was fourteen at the time. He was always angry. At least that is how he felt since the accident. He knew his parents were keeping a secret, but they wouldn't tell him. The stopped talking when he walked in the room.

“Were you talking about the accident again?” Marcus was accusing. “Just put it behind you. He's dead and he's not coming back. It's Christmas for Christ sake.” Marcus left the room. He knew they were telling secrets, but he almost didn't care he was so angry. He just wanted his brother back.

Marcus fell off the chair. He was weeping yet again. The gun slipped from his fingers. His hands were too weak to hold onto it. As it fell through the air he had an instant of realization, then the gun went off. He felt a burning flash of heat spray across his face. He then saw blood running down the bridge of his nose. His eyes had spots and his ears were ringing. He almost felt nothing. It was surreal as if the world was blurring away slowly.

He watched the pool forming on the floor. A slow line of blood worked its way across the floorboards towards the door. He could hear it dripping on the other side. The door goes somewhere was his last thought as he fell into the puddle he had watched so intently.

When Marcus awoke he was sure he was dead, but the sticky wet mess on his face told him otherwise. As he felt his head he thought to find a gaping hole of shattered skull and moist gray matter, but instead he found a thin line of torn flesh. It was terribly tender, but the skull seemed much intact. Looking at the gun and the blood he wondered how he had survived, but he saw the stream and remembered.

“The door goes somewhere.” Marcus whispered as he stood up. He decided two things in that moment. He would find out what was behind that door. And Marcus was going to take a much needed shower.

Sketch of the Week 12

I just want to apologize that I did not post anything last week. I went camping and didn't realize I wouldn't have service. I was going to post a note saying there would be no post. Alright enjoy tonight's post.

Some alien from behind.

A Door into the Past Pt. 9

Greetings loyal readers. I am glad to see you have returned to my humble blog. I fear my language may appear strange in this story. I kept catching myself speaking in such a drab and old sounding voice(which in this situation of course means in the written sense and not the spoken) that I had to keep correcting myself. You see I watched some episodes of the Borgias today and that made quite a mark on my internal narration. I hope you don't mind. But please enjoy the now longest part of this increasingly large short story.

Part 1.

Last Week.

Part 9.

Marcus came to handcuffed to a chair. His head was heavy and throbbing from the blow. He looked around and saw people staring and pointing. For the moment he could not recognize them. One of them began to approach. Marcus finally recognized her as a police officer. She looked him in the eyes.

“You're a real lucky bastard. Your buddy Thomas is hurt pretty bad, but he refuses to press charges. I think you had better look yourself in the mirror and ask yourself what your problem is.” the officer began to take the cuffs off. “You're not going to assault me too are you? I wouldn't advise it.”

“No, I won't attack you, officer.” Marcus still felt like his head was on the verge of collapsing in on itself, but it was holding together for now at least. “Am I free to go?”

“We're gonna need a statement then you are free to get yourself home. Your wife is waiting over there.” the officer pointed at Abigail. Marcus looked at her, but he didn't want her to be here. He didn't want to see her. She looked very distraught. She was talking to Thomas who was being looked after by a paramedic. Marcus felt the rage boil up again. He looked away for what little good it would do.

“I think I would sit here awhile. I fear my head isn't well. The pain is quite intense.” Marcus did not lie, but his exaggeration seemed to be enough. The officer asked for his version of the story and then she left. Marcus was glad he wasn't going to jail, but he couldn't help but feel indignant that he was at Thomas' mercy.

Thomas always envied Marcus, Marcus knew this deep down. Ever since they met it had been Marcus who had everything. Thomas was in short term relationship after relationship. Thomas was never the top designer. Thomas was nothing without Marcus, yet somehow Thomas was stealing Marcus' world.

Abigail looked over and saw Marcus staring. She started walking over he looked away, but it was too late as her hand rested on his shoulder.

“Oh Marcus, what has gotten into you? Marcus look at me. You're scaring everyone who loves you.” her woulds were desperate and sad. Perhaps he could care for her, but never Thomas again.

“Thomas tries to steal everything. I have worked so hard. And Thomas thinks he just deserves it.” Marcus growled through his throbs of pain.

“You are mistaken Marcus. Thomas wants nothing, but good for you. He had tried to dissuade Mr. Blake from promoting him over you. He told me all about it. He didn't want you to know. But Mr. Blake said he wouldn't even consider you. You were too valuable as a full-time designer. Marcus listen to me. We all love you so much. Whatever is going on inside your head, just come back to us.” she said all the right things. Marcus couldn't believe them. He knew what he had seen and heard with his own eyes and ears. The door was showing him truth in a world of lies. These people didn't love him.

“I want you to move out, Abigale. Go live with Thomas. I know its what you both want. I saw the way he touched your thigh that time and the way you giggled with excitement. Just go. I'm through with you.” he saw the tears now. She was a convincing actress. Perhaps she should had gone to Hollywood. Abigail walked away in confusion. Marcus smiled to himself as she went to the paramedic. The paramedic nodded and followed her back over.

“Hello Marcus. I'm just gonna look at your eyes. I hope you don't mind. We just need to make sure you didn't sustain a head injury. They are quite common in these sort of situations.” Marcus was complicit though he did not like that Abigail still stood there. Her tears were breaking his resolve. “Good, good. Now let me check the wound. Tell me how badly does this hurt.” A sharp pain went through Marcus' entire skull as if he was struck yet again.

“Shit, that hurt like hell you fucking idiot.” Marcus about punched the man, but stopped himself.

“Good. You seem in perfect health for having a bronze statue blasted against your skull. There appears to be no fractures, but we will take you in and get your skull x-rayed, alright?” the man was entirely too cheerful. Marcus hated him already, but he grasped at any opportunity to get away from Abigail now.

“Just take me there now. And don't let her ride with us. I don't want to see her.” Marcus was placed on a stretcher and rolled away. It felt better to be away from Abigail, but his realities were fighting none the less. Marcus wondered to himself is Mr. Blake really didn't promote him because he was too valuable.

A Door into the Past Pt. 8

Yet another exciting installment if I may say so myself. This one was quite fun to write and is thus far the longest entry yet for this story. It however should read rather quickly since it is actually one of the more action packed posts. But without further delay please enjoy this new episode of suspense and disaster.

Part 1.
Last Week.
Part 8.

As Marcus completed the work he knew it was finally ready. He had changed the entire design. Where once was a sunrise it was now a sunset. He didn't even know why it had been a sunrise before. It was always meant to set. That is how he had seen it in the sky only a few days ago.

So, when Thomas came up the stairs Marcus was waiting for him.

“Here it is. Everything is in order it will be ready for production by the end of the day. Several days ahead of schedule I'd like to remind you.” Marcus was confident in the work, however as Thomas looked it over Marcus' smile faded.

“You've changed everything. Almost reversed the entire design. Are you sure this is still what you want? I'm not so certain of it. It seems almost gloomy.” Thomas was being shrewd. He was simply surprised by the changes. He'll come around this piece was genius.

“It will be fine Thomas. Believe me I know design. This will be a bigger hit than the other one would have. And we don't have time for both. I say we do this one.” with a slap on the back and a laugh Marcus almost convinced himself, “Have I ever led you astray?” He knew the answer he made this company. Without him it would have closed years ago. So, he knew his vote of confidence would also push his shoe through. It would be produced by the thousands.

“I... I guess you're right. I never had the grasp on design you had. Thanks. I'm glad you are excited about this. You're even getting me excited. This will be good.” Thomas walked away. Marcus knew the next step it was very like old times. A design meeting would be called. During the meeting everyone would ooh and aah Marcus' work and then the team would put it out for the fabrication team and soon we would have them ready to sell and the company would profit.

This time however things didn't go according to history. Everyone looked at the shoe and visibly their excitement would lessen. Instead of complementing him they averted their eyes. It was all wrong. It was even worse when Mr. Blake walked in the room.

“I heard that Marcus was revealing our next blockbuster.” he walked up to the designs and looked at them then looked at Marcus. He looked back at the design and finally back at Marcus.

“What do you think Mr. Blake? Can we take it to production?” Thomas said the words from the doorway he was only just coming into the meeting room. He had a portfolio under his arm. Marcus knew what was in the portfolio.

“Um, Thomas I don't think this shoe will go to production. It has a sort of melancholy about it.” and then the room filled with voices of agreement. Many were apologetic as they looked to Marcus, but it was their overall concert of disinterest in producing that shoe.

“I was afraid that was how you would feel. So, undenounced to Marcus I worked on some of his preliminary designs for that shoe and I think these are production ready.” Thomas took out the pieces he had slipshod together. There was no art to them. It was simply a recreation of Marcus' own work. Some slight color changes a thinning of the star-burst and an angle loosened here while one was tightened there. Overall it was identical however. Mr. Blake smiled as he looked at the piece.

“Oh Marcus this is brilliant I have no idea why you change it.” Mr. Blake gave Marcus the credit, but that didn't matter he may not have even heard. Marcus was outraged that Thomas would reveal work he thought unworthy and had specifically set aside.

“You whimpering shit. I have worked above you like a god and you think you can take my leavings and use them to your own glorification. You think to have my wife, my career, my work. Well take it all you filthy whore. Maybe another day or two deep in Mr. Blake's asshole will get you another promotion.” Marcus didn't know what he was doing, 'I'm getting this abortion...' and her laughter filled his ears as he punched Thomas' surprised face. Thomas fell to the floor blood spilling on the gray carpet of the conference room. He saw the silhouette touching his wife's thigh. She giggled with heavy lust filled breath. Marcus managed to kick Thomas in the ribs before the others started pulling him off. They held him tightly yelling for him to stop. He couldn't hear them, 'I'm getting this abortion...' Everything went black when one of them clubbed him over the head.

Sketch of the Week 11

Here is a collection of some sketches I've done and thought worthy of sharing.

A Door into the Past Pt. 7

Well, this weeks post is pretty special to me. I really feel like the story just got some real traction. Things are going to move quite quickly here soon. I was wondering for a while if I hadn't accidentally started a novel instead of a short story, but no worries I see an ending on the horizon. I hope you enjoy this next installment.

Part 1.

Last Week.

Part 7.

Marcus fell to his knees. “I'm getting this abortion...” kept ringing in his ears. It was all he could hear. He felt sick and weak at the same time. She never even asked him. It was all he could do to stand. He walked to the bedroom. Abigail was sleeping soundly. A small smile on her face. Marcus ignored her as best he could. His grabbed his wallet and left.

“I'm getting this abortion... I'm getting this abortion...” it was on loop in his mind. All he heard the entire driving. Walking up the stairs to his office he was numb with it. His mind was lost to the power of those words. He of course was surprised when Thomas tapped on his shoulder.

“Hello Earth to Marcus. You awake man? I need to know where you are on those revisions. Remember I gave you a week. You need to have all the revisions ironed out by tomorrow if you hope to be ready in time.” Thomas almost sounded kind. Marcus didn't know if it was true or simply in his head it didn't matter.

“Yeah, the revisions. I'll have them ready tomorrow. Let me print a copy of what I have so far.” The copy printed and Thomas hardly seemed to notice how distant Marcus' voice was as he listened to the explanation of the revisions.

“Okay looks good to me. Remember I want this finalized tomorrow and ready to go to the rest of the team so that everything can be set by weeks end. These have to be done in time for our summer series launch.” Thomas walked out the room. Looking back he saw Marcus with head hung low, he did not stop.

The numbness continued throughout the rest of the day. His once bright and exciting project was now simply a tolerated diversion. His drive home was a blink of an eye. He didn't remember getting to his house. He didn't remember taking a chair upstairs. He didn't remember sitting in front of the door for hours.

“Marcus! What the hell are you doing?” Abigail was shaking him. She looked worried.

“Did you do it?” Marcus was blank faced he didn't even look at her.

“Do what? What is wrong? How long have you been here?” Abigail had genuine concern on her face. Marcus was finally gaining his wits. His legs were sore from sitting as he stood up next to his wife. Looking her in the face he saw her confusion.

“Did you really have an abortion? Was it mine?” Marcus looked at her. Her eyes grew with shock. She looked away. Her face grew red quickly and a tear formed and fell. Her knees gave out and she landed on the floor.

“How did you find out about the abortion?” she still didn't look at him. Marcus couldn't think of how to answer that particular question. He didn't think the door telling him was a plausible response.

“I heard you talking to Jen one time. I guess with my job stuff I thought it was time I found out.” Marcus knew it was a weak lie, but hoped it would suffice. She looked up at him. Her whole face and person was in disarray. Black eyeliner ran lines down her now rosy cheeks. Her eyes were filled with red lightning and swollen near closed. He wondered why he couldn't sympathize.

“I guess it doesn't matter. It was yours. I'm sorry. I didn't know if we would even stay together. I was just starting college. I had so many classes. I was working. It was all too much. I... I didn't tell you, because I didn't really even know you yet. We had only been dating a couple months.” she seemed genuine. Her pain was so real. The guilt must have grown for years. Yet he still couldn't sympathize. It was too hurtful a secret.

As Marcus packed his bag he faintly heard her pleas behind him.

“I just need some space. I can't believe you lied to me like this.” Marcus went outside and got in his car. As the engine started he felt something be left behind. He pulled the car out and drove away. The hotel down the street would have sufficed, but he had work to do. He parked outside the door, he didn't bother using an actual parking spot. As he walked up the stairs to his office he saw the sun setting in his mind and he knew what he had to do.

Sketch of the Week 10

Death stands guard without a word. Standing still as blood pours from his chest. In the blood you see the last moments of your life and are taken to your final resting place. Be it in Eternal Night or Eternal Day death does not judge he simply carries you on the path.

Death

Inside us all the powers battle. Light and dark an eternal conflict. We can use our will to hold back our passions that will send us to destruction. Or perhaps we may bask in the primal pleasures of the physical calling death into our very selves. The choice is ours and ever rages on inside our very being. Hold tight to the will to be more than you are and grow in the light of the Eternal Day.

Light and Dark

 Well I suppose this post is rather religious in its nature, but that wasn't the original goal. I was actually gonna just use a picture of me to design a shirt on my white t-shirt. Instead I ended up setting my basement to look like some sort of dark murder cave. So, as you can tell that inspired a completely different route than originally intended. I hope at the very least it was enjoyed.

A Door into the Past Pt. 6

Marcus is a lot like me. He thinks and reacts similarly to myself. Also, I can only remember things I don't want to and can't forget the things I want to. But I think he is probably much better at focusing than I am. I hope you enjoy todays piece.

Part 1.

Last Week.

Part 6.

The day went by like a blur. Thomas kept his distance and Marcus was too afraid to seek him out. Marcus didn't know what to think, the letter seemed sincere. On the drive home Marcus saw another sunset the sun seemed to be going away leaving nothing but darkness behind.

Abigail his dinner set when Marcus got home. It was a spread of leftovers. In every way Abigail lacked in domesticity, she more than made up for in personality. He remembered the first he saw her. He was waiting in line in the dormitory cafeteria. She was serving mashed potatoes. Or some sort of white sludge. Her hair was in a net yet it still shown a beautiful auburn. She was talking to another server about this book series. Some sort of knights and magic thing. She was glowing as she discussed the story. She didn't even notice Marcus, but he noticed her.

As they prepared for bed Marcus tried to remember the last time Abigail had read a book, he couldn't. How had he not noticed before. Marcus decided then and there he was gonna try and find Abigail a new book.

“Hey babe, do you remember what that book series you were reading in college was called? The one with the knights and magic and stuff?” Marcus tried to make the question sound off-handed.

“Um, let me think. That must have been the Mist Caller Chronicles. That's pretty random though. What brought that up?”

“I was just thinking about the first time I saw you. I couldn't remember the name of the books you were talking about.”

“Oh yeah. Those books were pretty lame in retrospective. Just some flimsy love triangle with really flat characters, but you know sometimes that stuff is nice.”

Marcus decided he wouldn't get her more of those books then. Obviously she didn't read those any more. Maybe he could get her those vampire books everyone was reading. She said she wanted to see the movies when they had come out. Marcus decided he'd check the book store on the way home tomorrow. It was time for bed.

As Marcus slept all he saw was the figure caressing Abigail's leg. And her laughter thick with sexuality chased him through the dreams. His alarm went off right as he was about to distinguish the figure. Showering and dressing had finally become mundane in the new house. He knew where everything was and there was no more searching required. He didn't even notice the door as he passed it. Going downstairs he went to the kitchen and put some waffles in the toaster. It was then that he noticed that he had forgotten his wallet.

“I guess I haven't completely gotten used to this new routine.”

Walking up the stairs he watched the door as he ascended. A thin spray of light was coming out of the keyhole.

“Not again. I'll ignore it.”

As he walked passed he heard Abigail's voice.

“Marcus wouldn't understand.” The door was louder than usual. It was calling him.

Looking back Marcus couldn't stop. He had to see what this new mirage was. As the opening came into focus Marcus saw Abigail sitting in a waiting room. She looked much younger this must have taken place during college. Abigail's friend Jenny was holding Abigail comforting her. They were both crying.

“He'd understand that you aren't ready to have a kid. You want to finish college first.” Jenny spoke comfortingly.

“No Jenny. I'm getting this abortion and Marcus must never know.”

A Door into the Past Pt. 5

 Wow, I really got into todays piece. I was writing it and went wow I just really screwed this story up didn't I. Then I decided, well this is what feels right so whatever. I hope you enjoy part 5.

Part 1. 

Last Week.

Part 5.

As he pulled up to the factory Marcus noticed something strange. Thomas' car was there already. Marcus did not want this. He had planned to be alone a few more hours. There was nothing he could do now. Marcus parked in his usual spot and made for the side door he always used. Waiting at the door was Thomas.

“Hey, Marcus I am so glad you finally got here. Usually you're hear about twenty minutes earlier. 5:20 is late for you, but I suppose I can hardly complain.” Thomas struck his cigarette butt against the wall. Ash and sparks were tossed by a slight breeze. Though there was a garbage can right next to him Thomas threw the cigarette on the ground. It inflamed Marcus. “I'll be frank. I saw shoe. It is amazing. We'll do a couple tweaks I thought up and have it ready to start production in no time. I can't believe one day in this job and I already got a sure hit.” Thomas stopped after noticing Marcus' expression.

Marcus just looked at Thomas. He had stopped in his tracks as soon as Thomas mentioned the designs. This was all wrong. He had put them in his desk. This was a violation and beyond that he felt the design was being stolen from him. A few tweaks. That meant a slight measurement alteration and then both their names will appear on it. Thomas will probably even put his name first. It was too much and too soon.

“You touch a single thread on my designs and I will quit taking them with me. I have had it with your medaling. You haven't even designed one shoe that has sold higher than 5^th in a year. Any designs that we collaborated on you sat in the back and watch as I did the real work. You are nothing more than an ass kissing dog who deserves to have his nose rubbed in some fresh shit he just left all over my lawn.” Marcus couldn't believe the words as he said them. Thomas stood their slightly agape. It was the first time Marcus had stood up to him. Marcus however was unsure which of them was more surprised.

“I had no idea you felt that way. So, I'm a dog am I? Well, this dog has teeth Marcus. You remember that. Go back to work. I want those designs production read in a week.” Thomas sneered as he spoke. His once shocked face was now cold hard vengeance.

Marcus knew he couldn't get the designs ready in a week, but what was he supposed to do. He knew he was over reacting. They had been friends hadn't they, but he couldn't get the image out of his head. The hand touching his wives thigh. Her giggling. It wasn't an innocent touch. He could tell he knew.

Arriving in his office he saw all the papers laying out on the table. There was a letter as well.

Marcus,

If I didn't catch you at the door I just wanted to tell you how amazed I am by your work. This piece will be more popular than any of the ones you've made before. But I guess I'm really writing to say I'm sorry. I know the promotion meant a lot to you. I shouldn't have even applied, but I really felt I needed to. I have always been in your shadow creatively. I just thought this was my big break. I was so worried when you left during my speech. And I went straight to your house. I waited till Abigale got home and I asked if she knew where you were. We were both kind of frightened. So, we waited. Neither of us ate or anything. We were so worried. Then when you got there you were so cold. I guess I was kind of a dick. I don't know. I guess I'm rambling now. The true point of this letter is to say I hope that we can still be friends. I hope it isn't weird for too long.

Your friend,

Thomas

P.S. This really is a kick-ass design dude.

Sketch of the Week 9

Okay so I started sketching and accidentally made the ghost. Once I realized what I had done I knew this was a perfect opportunity to make a picture about why growing up when I did was awesome. So, I drew from a fer of my favorite Old Skool sources and made this image. I hope you enjoy.

A Door into the Past Pt. 4

As with Bleakman's Bog it gets easier and easier every part. This one was quite easy to write. I feel that I just follow Marcus and allow his perception of the world to lead the way. But, you are here to read about 'A Door into the Past' not my mindless ramblings.

Part 1. 

Last Week.

Part 4.

As Marcus opened the door. He heard a conversation cut off mid-sentence.

“Oh Marcus. Thank God. We were so worried!” Abigale jumped from her seat. The action moved Thomas' hand from her thigh. Moving across the room she hugged Marcus tightly. “I'm so sorry about the promotion. Thomas told me everything. Where were you?”

“I'm sorry I worried you. I kind of needed time alone. I just sat by myself for awhile. I watched the sun go down it was quite beautiful.” stopping before he spoke about the new shoe design Marcus looked over at Thomas. “Sorry I didn't get to congratulate you. I was a little upset about my not getting promoted. I hope I didn't offend.”

“Of course not Marcus. I know how emotional you can get. It is fine. You missed some delicious cake though. And Debbie actually made a move on my. Can you believe it? Miss Unibrow thought I'd be interested.” Thomas laughed at his own joke.

“You know I've never been fond of you calling her that. She is incredibly nice.”

“Should have married her than and left Abby to me.” Thomas winked at them exaggeratedly. “Well, I better be going. Will you make it to work tomorrow Marcus?”

“Bright and early as always. You rarely beat me in. We'll see if this new station changes that.”

The tension was intense. Marcus felt a weight lifted once Thomas left. The cordiality was all a facade between them. Something had changed. Perhaps Marcus only just now saw Thomas for what he was. A bona-fide douche. Or perhaps his jealousy was getting away from him. It didn't matter. He should have been in bed hours ago.

He woke up before his alarm this morning. Marcus was excited about presenting his new shoe design. Getting ready was a breeze. The house was so quite. He noticed this as he walked over what was normally a very squeaky board. It was then that he heard Abigale giggle. But it wasn't from her bedroom. Marcus looked at the door to nowhere. He stepped closer, as if approaching a venomous snake. As he drew closer heard another voice. A male voice. He looked through the key hole again. It was his living room. He saw Abigale on the couch with a man. The man was, the man looked like, Marcus jumped back as his alarm started going off. Putting his eye back to the hole it was dark. Nothing was there. Marcus left the door. Walking back into the bedroom he turned off the alarm.

“Hey baby. You were already up?” Abigale looked at Marcus sleepily.

“Yeah, sorry if I woke you up. I forgot to turn it off.” Marcus looked at Abigale wearily.

“What's wrong Marcus? You still upset? You should call off. They don't even deserve your talent. Choosing Thomas over you. Can you believe it?” she said all the right things, but somehow the words were almost hollow to Marcus.

“Yeah, I'm still a little upset. But I think I'll be okay. I'll see you later.” Marcus kissed Abigale on the forehead and made way for the door.

That figure couldn't have been Thomas. He was touching her thigh. Holding it while he whispered and made Abigale laugh. As Marcus passed the door he thought he heard the giggle again, but he refused to stop. It was all a trick. It was stress based. Soon everything would be normal again.

Getting in his car Marcus made way the shoe factory. He would be there for even the janitors went home. He liked working in the calm. He would like the time alone.