Larry stood in front of the mirror, gazing at himself in bewilderment. What was going on? Not more than a few hours ago he was at home, cozy in his apartment, reading a magazine and sipping hot tea. Now he was god knows where, with someone he didn't know, under mysterious circumstances.
Not being one to dwell too much on factors outside of his control, Larry gazed at his reflection. He needed to wash his face, and did so with the appropriately provided supplies. He also noticed that the wound on his temple had begun to bleed once more. Surprisingly, bandages and ointments had been set out as well, so he dressed the wound as best he could and applied the bandage. Of course, he immediately looked even more ridiculous than he had moments before. Now he was dishevelment, covered in a large tea stain, with a bandage on his temple, and fairly unkempt hair. Larry decided he could at least comb it, so he did, which only somewhat improved his appearance.
"No time like the present to see what the dining hall holds," he thought to himself. So, he left his room, turned left, proceeded down the hall to the main staircase. At the bottom he turned left once more, following the corridor toward the end. As he did, he began to question why he was in such a hurry. Why not check up on this new friend of his a little? Snooping around wasn't the sort of thing he normally did, apart from occasionally checking out a friend's medicine cabinet or poking around their refrigerator. But this was no typical situation, and it might come in handy to know his surroundings a little better than not at all. So, he took the door to the left, in the middle of the corridor, well before the dining hall.
The room he entered was well-sized, bigger than any of those in his apartment. Clearly this Drakewood fellow had a sizable bank account to afford his lifestyle. The walls were dark, paneled wood, with the occasional built-in bookcase. There was a fireplace in the center of innermost wall, and a large desk toward the center of the room. It appeared to be some sort of office or study, although Larry couldn't be sure. He'd never met anyone with such a lavish abode, and he wasn't quite sure what the right term for this room was. His gaze slowly planned the room, eventually coming to a large painting hanging above the mantel place. It was peculiar, almost Boschian in it's depictions of some epic battle between what looked like angels and demons. As he looked, the painting seemed to gather detail as he looked. The scene became more detailed the more he looked. Larry shook his head, and touched the bandage. That fall must have done more damage than he initially thought, since he was beginning to see things. But he couldn't keep from looking again. Again, the painting almost appeared to move and shift as he stared. It was almost as if it wasn't a painting at all, but some elaborate screen.
Just then, Larry heard movement in the hall. He was scared, because he wasn't really supposed to be in this room, so he ducked behind a heavy curtain near the door. Moments later, he heard Drakewood was passing by, speaking to someone else. They both stopped outside the door, but Larry couldn't tell what was being said, as the conversation was muffled through the thick, heavy wooden doors. He gathered his fortitude and tip-toed to the door, and pressed his ear to it. He was able to make out pieces of the conversation.
"...be down shortly. We'll explain the whole thing over dinner," said a voice that sounded like Drakewood's.
"But he's not ready," said a woman's voice. "And I doubt he'll ever be. Look at him, he's just some normal guy. We should leave before he comes down. We're just wasting time."
"No, we must wait for him. He's the most vital part of this entire plan," replied Drakewood. "Without him we'll never get anywhere. I'll meet you in the dining room shortly."
And with that, the voices ceased and moved off in opposite directions. Larry took a deep breath, waited a full half minute, then slowly opened the door to the hallway. He turned toward the dining hall, deciding it was time to go see what this was all about. He got to the door, turned the handle, and opened it.
Saturday, November 24, 2012
Thursday, November 8, 2012
Chapter 3.
Larry awoke. It took his eyes a full minute to adjust to his surroundings. The light was dim, as the room was lit only by an indeterminately small number of reading lamps. Larry was laying on a couch, the old style lounge sofa, upholstered in red velvet with golden cord fringe hanging down. Wrapped in a heavy blanket, Larry found it difficult to move, which was probably the point. It took him a few moments to disentangle himself, after which he slowly sat up. His head was pounding, and he felt crusty dried blood on his left temple, probably a result of his fall. He attempted to stand, but his legs felt like jelly and he quickly resumed his seat on the couch. Just then, the tall man entered the room, carrying a tray with tea and food.
"Ah, you're awake. Good, I was afraid that I would have to wake you. Here, drink this, it will help with your head." Larry took the cup and saucer that was offered to him. He sipped the beverage but it was more pungent that he was expecting. Seeing the look on his face, the tall man offered sugar and cream, which Larry was more than happy to acquiesce to. As he stirred his drink, the tall man set down the tray on the coffee table and sat in a high-backed chair facing Larry. After a moment and a deep breath, he began, "Welcome to Drakewood Manor, my ancestral home. It was built by my great- great-grandfather, Sir Mallory Drakewood, to be his country retreat and place of refuge outside of the city. I will not bore you with my family history, but suffice to say that an unforeseen series of events led to this becoming the home in which I was raised. Please, make yourself comfortable. I shall need you at full strength and understanding before long. I needs must explain the situation and our impending course of action, but only once you have regained your full wits."
A frown formed on Larry's average face, and his brow knitted itself into a maze of knots. This evening had gone from dreary to bloody awful, and he had a sinking feeling in his stomach that it was going to get much worse before it was over. He sipped his tea again, and grimaced a bit, although less than before the cream and sugar. Despite the strong flavor and unappetizing smell of the drink, he head was, in plain point of fact, beginning to feel better. In fact, his headache had nearly vanished, as if by some strange sorcery. Again, as if by telepathy, the tall man opened his mouth and said, "This tea blend is an old family recipe. It has certain, ah, qualities that make it perfect for your situation. How are you feeling?"
"Better. But what is going on?" asked Larry. "How did we get here, and who were those people after us? Also, who the devil are you? I want some answers. Now!" As he shouted this he pointed his finger and attempted to stand once again, but his body was still not cooperating. His legs began to give way and he slouched back onto the couch.
The tall man made no move to help him, but a look did come over his face that was intensely reassuring. And then he spoke, "All in good time, my friend. All in good time. These are complicated proceeding that you have stumbled into, and I don't want to put you out of your depth. Let me begin by introducing myself. I am Allister Drakewood. You likely have not heard of the Drakewoods, although we are an old family, with a storied history. No matter, as it is of little importance to you or the goings on of this evening. Suffice to say, I am someone whom you can trust. Those who know me might say I am a bit of an eccentric, and they would doubtless be correct. I have, how should I put it, some particular quirks. But pay them no mind." As he said this, his hand delved quickly and silently into his jacket pocket, and he removed a tin and pipe. He deftly filled the pipe, lit it with a similarly produced wooden match, and began smoke. "Forgive this little habit of mine. It calms the nerves, which I am sure you can appreciate given your current state. All of our nerves are on edge this evening. But I'm come to that in due time. Now that you are awake, and feeling better, might I suggest you wash for a late supper? You'll find the washroom in the adjacent room. Everything you need it laid out for your convenience. Once you are refreshed, please join us in the dining hall. Proceed left down the hall, take the staircase down to the main floor, turn left once more, down the corridor, to the large doors on the right. The table has already been set, the food laid out, and we'll be awaiting your arrival." And before he was able to speak, Drakewood was silently up and out of the room, his pipe smoke quietly trailing him.
"Ah, you're awake. Good, I was afraid that I would have to wake you. Here, drink this, it will help with your head." Larry took the cup and saucer that was offered to him. He sipped the beverage but it was more pungent that he was expecting. Seeing the look on his face, the tall man offered sugar and cream, which Larry was more than happy to acquiesce to. As he stirred his drink, the tall man set down the tray on the coffee table and sat in a high-backed chair facing Larry. After a moment and a deep breath, he began, "Welcome to Drakewood Manor, my ancestral home. It was built by my great- great-grandfather, Sir Mallory Drakewood, to be his country retreat and place of refuge outside of the city. I will not bore you with my family history, but suffice to say that an unforeseen series of events led to this becoming the home in which I was raised. Please, make yourself comfortable. I shall need you at full strength and understanding before long. I needs must explain the situation and our impending course of action, but only once you have regained your full wits."
A frown formed on Larry's average face, and his brow knitted itself into a maze of knots. This evening had gone from dreary to bloody awful, and he had a sinking feeling in his stomach that it was going to get much worse before it was over. He sipped his tea again, and grimaced a bit, although less than before the cream and sugar. Despite the strong flavor and unappetizing smell of the drink, he head was, in plain point of fact, beginning to feel better. In fact, his headache had nearly vanished, as if by some strange sorcery. Again, as if by telepathy, the tall man opened his mouth and said, "This tea blend is an old family recipe. It has certain, ah, qualities that make it perfect for your situation. How are you feeling?"
"Better. But what is going on?" asked Larry. "How did we get here, and who were those people after us? Also, who the devil are you? I want some answers. Now!" As he shouted this he pointed his finger and attempted to stand once again, but his body was still not cooperating. His legs began to give way and he slouched back onto the couch.
The tall man made no move to help him, but a look did come over his face that was intensely reassuring. And then he spoke, "All in good time, my friend. All in good time. These are complicated proceeding that you have stumbled into, and I don't want to put you out of your depth. Let me begin by introducing myself. I am Allister Drakewood. You likely have not heard of the Drakewoods, although we are an old family, with a storied history. No matter, as it is of little importance to you or the goings on of this evening. Suffice to say, I am someone whom you can trust. Those who know me might say I am a bit of an eccentric, and they would doubtless be correct. I have, how should I put it, some particular quirks. But pay them no mind." As he said this, his hand delved quickly and silently into his jacket pocket, and he removed a tin and pipe. He deftly filled the pipe, lit it with a similarly produced wooden match, and began smoke. "Forgive this little habit of mine. It calms the nerves, which I am sure you can appreciate given your current state. All of our nerves are on edge this evening. But I'm come to that in due time. Now that you are awake, and feeling better, might I suggest you wash for a late supper? You'll find the washroom in the adjacent room. Everything you need it laid out for your convenience. Once you are refreshed, please join us in the dining hall. Proceed left down the hall, take the staircase down to the main floor, turn left once more, down the corridor, to the large doors on the right. The table has already been set, the food laid out, and we'll be awaiting your arrival." And before he was able to speak, Drakewood was silently up and out of the room, his pipe smoke quietly trailing him.
Sunday, November 4, 2012
Chapter 2
If Larry had still been holding his mug of tea, he would have spilled even more of it all over himself, and likely his unexpected guest, who wouldn't notice much difference to his overall condition, with the exception of now smelling slightly like an apple pie. But Larry was fortunately not holding his mug, and therefore did not make a larger mess. He was, once again, about to say something to the intruder, but he was silenced with a gesture of a finger to the lips. The large man once more gestures for to examine the peep hole, which he readily complied with. However, because of the dark and stormy nature of the evening, he was again unable to make anything out.
"Sir," said the voice on the other side of the door, "I'm Lt. Heinrichson, of the county police. We need to speak with you. It is an emergency." Larry thought about opening the door and seeing what it was about, since his safety could be at right, due to the hurricane or, more likely, the strange man in his entranceway. In fact, the police were exactly who he needed right now to get this thing under control. In his brief hesitation, the man behind him reached out and put his had on Larry's shoulder, and shook his head, almost as if he knew what Larry was thinking. The tall, wet stranger then mimed for Larry to lock the door, as quickly and quietly as possible. "Sure," he thought to himself, "make it easier for this guy to keep the police out", but he found himself complying. First, he chained the door, as it was the easiest. Then, he turned the knob lock. Finally, Larry slowly turned the bolt, which he was sure would make an impressively loud clank, which even the howling storm could not cover up. He was correct.
"Sir, I know you're in there. I can hear you. Open the door, so that we can talk with you. There is an escaped convict in this area. We would like to ask you a few questions."
Larry turned and looked at the man. Despite the complete silence between the two, he managed to understand simply from the guest's expression that the voice on the other side of the door was lying. He slowly backed away from the door, afraid even more now than he had been moments ago when it was unlocked. Just then, a series of loud booms came from the door, as if the man outside was knocking with a large stick.
"Sir, you need to open this door. We know you are in there. If you do not comply within the next 3 minutes, we will be compelled to force the door open." Larry gave the tall man a look of concern. The guest once again gestured, this time to Larry's coat and shoes, then to the back bedroom. Our hero quickly put on his outerwear and followed the man down the hall, to the last room on the left, Larry's guest bedroom. The tall man closed and locked the door behind him. Then he whispered, "I was afraid this might happen. We need to climb out the window. These characters are up to no good." Just then, a series of even louder booms came from the front of the apartment. Without even being stated, Larry knew this was the police or whomever they were breaking down his front door.
"Great," he thought to himself, "that won't be cheap to replace. And it's solid wood too." Again, as if by magic, the tall man turned to Larry and quietly said, "It's just a door. If we make it out of this, you'll be glad you've even still got your life. Doors can be replaced, lives on the other hand..." The man's voice trailed into silence. After only a moment's pause, not even long enough for Larry to process the implications of the tall man's statement, the guest was at the window, unlocking it and opening it. He stepped out onto the fire escape, and motioned for Larry to follow him.
As soon as they were both on the landing, a massive crash came from the entranceway. There was now a second group of intruders in Larry's apartment. The tall man pulled the level to lower the ladder. He began to climb down. At this point, Larry heard another crash, lost his footing, and stumbled backward. He fell down to the ground, and immediately blacked out.
"Sir," said the voice on the other side of the door, "I'm Lt. Heinrichson, of the county police. We need to speak with you. It is an emergency." Larry thought about opening the door and seeing what it was about, since his safety could be at right, due to the hurricane or, more likely, the strange man in his entranceway. In fact, the police were exactly who he needed right now to get this thing under control. In his brief hesitation, the man behind him reached out and put his had on Larry's shoulder, and shook his head, almost as if he knew what Larry was thinking. The tall, wet stranger then mimed for Larry to lock the door, as quickly and quietly as possible. "Sure," he thought to himself, "make it easier for this guy to keep the police out", but he found himself complying. First, he chained the door, as it was the easiest. Then, he turned the knob lock. Finally, Larry slowly turned the bolt, which he was sure would make an impressively loud clank, which even the howling storm could not cover up. He was correct.
"Sir, I know you're in there. I can hear you. Open the door, so that we can talk with you. There is an escaped convict in this area. We would like to ask you a few questions."
Larry turned and looked at the man. Despite the complete silence between the two, he managed to understand simply from the guest's expression that the voice on the other side of the door was lying. He slowly backed away from the door, afraid even more now than he had been moments ago when it was unlocked. Just then, a series of loud booms came from the door, as if the man outside was knocking with a large stick.
"Sir, you need to open this door. We know you are in there. If you do not comply within the next 3 minutes, we will be compelled to force the door open." Larry gave the tall man a look of concern. The guest once again gestured, this time to Larry's coat and shoes, then to the back bedroom. Our hero quickly put on his outerwear and followed the man down the hall, to the last room on the left, Larry's guest bedroom. The tall man closed and locked the door behind him. Then he whispered, "I was afraid this might happen. We need to climb out the window. These characters are up to no good." Just then, a series of even louder booms came from the front of the apartment. Without even being stated, Larry knew this was the police or whomever they were breaking down his front door.
"Great," he thought to himself, "that won't be cheap to replace. And it's solid wood too." Again, as if by magic, the tall man turned to Larry and quietly said, "It's just a door. If we make it out of this, you'll be glad you've even still got your life. Doors can be replaced, lives on the other hand..." The man's voice trailed into silence. After only a moment's pause, not even long enough for Larry to process the implications of the tall man's statement, the guest was at the window, unlocking it and opening it. He stepped out onto the fire escape, and motioned for Larry to follow him.
As soon as they were both on the landing, a massive crash came from the entranceway. There was now a second group of intruders in Larry's apartment. The tall man pulled the level to lower the ladder. He began to climb down. At this point, Larry heard another crash, lost his footing, and stumbled backward. He fell down to the ground, and immediately blacked out.
Saturday, November 3, 2012
Chapter 1
It was a dark and stormy night. This is usually a cliche, but in this instance it was literally true. No moon was shining, and the last hurricane of the season had just blown into town. Our protagonist, who we'll call, I dunno, Larry, was sitting on his sofa, sipping his tea, reading a magazine.
Larry is a fairly normal guy. He has a typical office job, a typical apartment, a typical social life, and typical interests. But something was about to happen that would change the course of his entire future, and maybe not for the best. You see, Larry was about to get an unexpected visitor. Like most people, during the early stages of a storm, he was not prepared for the knock on his door, especially in the howling wind, the pounding rain, the inky darkness, and the relatively late hour. But that is exactly what happened.
Larry flipped the page in his magazine, perusing the popular culture publication with half-hearted interest. He was a subscriber to this particular periodical, which left him as one of the dwindling group of people left to spend their money on paper, instead of online subscription. It wasn't that he didn't like computers, because he did. No, Larry just preferred to browse the articles in the edition printed on dead wood pulp. It felt more satisfying than on his multimedia devices. Besides, he could flip from page to page easier this way, especially when he was in the can. He found an article that struck his fancy, so he bent over to the coffee table to reach for his mug. The steamy vapor coming from the beverage container reminded him of the fall, with cinnamon, cloves, and just a hit of apple. Just as soon as the mug reached his lips, an almost deafening bang came from the door. In this wind and rain, Larry fully expected it to be a downed branch or a neighbor's lawn chair, carelessly left outside, despite his repeated warnings. Unfortunately, the sound had startled him and he had managed to spill some fairly hot tea all over his shirt and magazine. "No worry", he thought, "I'll just have to change. But maybe I should see what that noise was before I do." So, in an all together typically curious fashion, Larry went to his front door. He peered through the peep hole, but, it being a dark and stormy night, he saw nothing. Even the streetlights and outer building lamps seemed to be out. He unlocked the door, first the knob and then the bolt and finally the chain, and opened it.
"About time! I thought I would catch my death out here in this weather!" boomed a voice, as a large figure pushed past Larry into his apartment. In the surprise, he was not able to place the person who had just barged so familiarly into his entranceway. As he turned around, he wondered if this was the end of this excitement for the night, or just the beginning.
There he saw a tall man, well over six foot five, with broad shoulders and a stocky build. The man was covered in water, presumably from the storm. He wore a checked flannel driving cap, a long khaki-colored rain slicker, dark slacks, patent leather boots, and he carried what appeared to be a silver-tipped cane.
"Larry, we don't have much time. We must go, this instant. They'll be here any second." exclaimed the man, as he grabbed a coat from the coat-track and tossed it to Larry. Our hero was just about to respond in the negative, when another boom came from the front door.
Larry is a fairly normal guy. He has a typical office job, a typical apartment, a typical social life, and typical interests. But something was about to happen that would change the course of his entire future, and maybe not for the best. You see, Larry was about to get an unexpected visitor. Like most people, during the early stages of a storm, he was not prepared for the knock on his door, especially in the howling wind, the pounding rain, the inky darkness, and the relatively late hour. But that is exactly what happened.
Larry flipped the page in his magazine, perusing the popular culture publication with half-hearted interest. He was a subscriber to this particular periodical, which left him as one of the dwindling group of people left to spend their money on paper, instead of online subscription. It wasn't that he didn't like computers, because he did. No, Larry just preferred to browse the articles in the edition printed on dead wood pulp. It felt more satisfying than on his multimedia devices. Besides, he could flip from page to page easier this way, especially when he was in the can. He found an article that struck his fancy, so he bent over to the coffee table to reach for his mug. The steamy vapor coming from the beverage container reminded him of the fall, with cinnamon, cloves, and just a hit of apple. Just as soon as the mug reached his lips, an almost deafening bang came from the door. In this wind and rain, Larry fully expected it to be a downed branch or a neighbor's lawn chair, carelessly left outside, despite his repeated warnings. Unfortunately, the sound had startled him and he had managed to spill some fairly hot tea all over his shirt and magazine. "No worry", he thought, "I'll just have to change. But maybe I should see what that noise was before I do." So, in an all together typically curious fashion, Larry went to his front door. He peered through the peep hole, but, it being a dark and stormy night, he saw nothing. Even the streetlights and outer building lamps seemed to be out. He unlocked the door, first the knob and then the bolt and finally the chain, and opened it.
"About time! I thought I would catch my death out here in this weather!" boomed a voice, as a large figure pushed past Larry into his apartment. In the surprise, he was not able to place the person who had just barged so familiarly into his entranceway. As he turned around, he wondered if this was the end of this excitement for the night, or just the beginning.
There he saw a tall man, well over six foot five, with broad shoulders and a stocky build. The man was covered in water, presumably from the storm. He wore a checked flannel driving cap, a long khaki-colored rain slicker, dark slacks, patent leather boots, and he carried what appeared to be a silver-tipped cane.
"Larry, we don't have much time. We must go, this instant. They'll be here any second." exclaimed the man, as he grabbed a coat from the coat-track and tossed it to Larry. Our hero was just about to respond in the negative, when another boom came from the front door.
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