Short Stories

This being  a page where Mike posts short stories, enjoy....




PSYCHO CAT

A CAUTIONARY TALE:

AS TOLD BY TONY THE TOY-PINSCHER

 

BY

MIKE D. BURKE

 

                        I warned my parents, warned them of the hideous nature of the horrible feline creatures. For years I warned them! Yet still they made the horrible mistake of bringing one into our home! Our home! Where we play and eat with our toys and delicious treats. I love my parents, love them, but sometimes they’re idiots. After all they’re only weird looking dogs called hoo-mans. For years we were happy, a happy little family. In fact we were the best little family a king could ask for. My father would always play with me for as long as I wanted. My mother would always cuddle and kiss me as much as she could. At night we would all get as comfy as possible under the nice warm blankets.

                        When the weather was nice we would all go for walks. Sometimes even a nice ride. After eating, if I did “the business” as dad called it I would get a treat. A nice bone-cookie! They always would give me the best food too, right off the table! I think.

                        One day everything changed though. They had gone out for a bit. When they came back home I went to the door to greet them, wagging my tail with a toy in my mouth in case they wanted to play right away. When they came in they smelled different. So I started to sniff them all over as they looked to each other and said, “I think he knows.” Knows what, I wondered. “Here you go Tony, we got a new friend for you. His name is Bruce.” They said as they set down the kennel and went into the kitchen. I sniffed around it because it smelled so weird. Then a single paw came out and slapped my snout behind me. Out stepped the cat they called, Bruce.

                        I got real low on all fours and barked to let Bruce know who was king of this castle. Then I heard my parents say, “Tony you be nice to Bruce.” I looked to Bruce for a while and he at me and then suddenly he started to choke me. My parents looked around the corner and saw the two of us and just said, “Awe they’re hugging!” After that I managed to get away. There was something not quite right with this feline.

                        I tried to tell my parents when I saw him worshipping the cat-demon, Meowll. I tried to warn them when he was measuring them for either the oven or a coffin while they watched television but they only shushed me, “Shush!” they said. I tried telling them when he flushed the toilet while they were in the shower. “Bark!” I said. They only looked to me and replied, “Tony don’t flush the toilet!”

                        Then one night when my parents and I were fast asleep in our warm bed I heard a noise. I pricked up my ears and heard a scratching, “Scrtch, scrtch.” I peeked out from under the covers and saw Bruce! Half his torso was coming up from under the door like some Hell-spawn who hath no spine and in his hand he had a butcher’s cleaver. Which was odd because I never knew we had a butcher’s cleaver. I yelped in despair and woke my parents. Dad screamed and mom yelled, “Bruce what’s gotten into you?!” To this Bruce made no response but got closer smiling manically. We bolted for the hall and left him in our dust!

                        He chased us down the hall to the kitchen. Cornering us we screamed incoherently. Then he leaped in the air with the knife ready to slash my parent’s throats. To which I quickly pushed them aside and opened up the window and out he flew!

                        We locked all the windows and doors and stayed up the whole night through. The next day there was no sign of him.

                        It’s been three weeks now and nary hath we heard of him. There is a rumor going around though. That if you’re out late at night and you see a stray cat. Beware! For it could be Bruce, the Psycho Cat!

END




THE TALE OF MR. JAMES PEDDLETON

 

 

                   Each morning Mr. James Peddleton awoke to the sound of his alarm clock telling him it was time for work. The time being five in the morning. Ranger (Mr. James Peddleton’s dog) knew it was time to get up as well or food time as he knew it. Ranger jumped up on the bed and made his way to his master’s face and proceeded to lick it good. These licks were like Morse code; lick-liiick-‘get up’-liiiick-lick-lick-‘come on you ass, I’m hungry’.

                   “Ranger. Ranger come on dear boy. Let daddy wake up a bit first.” Said Mr. James Peddleton. “Time for another glorious day at the factory isn’t it boy?”

                   Mr. James Peddleton worked at a factory where they made medical supplies. He had been working there for fourteen years now and was due for a raise. Mr. James Peddleton walked over to the calendar and tapped the date, “Today’s the day Ranger. Time for my annual raise, another glorious fourteen cents. Making the big money now boy.” Ranger just barked at him as if saying, ‘good for you man. Give me food.’ “I suppose you want your food? I too hunger this day! I think it’s time for a little reward for my hard work.”        

                   Opening up the cupboards he took out a honey bun and Ranger’s food. They shared breakfast together then Mr. James Peddleton got ready for work. As he left, Ranger started barking like someone stole his favorite chew toy. He ran to the window to see his master drive down the lane. This made Ranger sad but in the back of his mind he knew his master would return.

                   The parking lot was surprisingly full this morning but Mr. James Peddleton still got his usual parking spot next to the only light pole. As he dropped his things off in his locker he clocked in. It was a nice and sunny day and Mr. James Peddelton looked forward to getting out at three o’clock like usual. Maybe he would call up Kim and take Ranger to the park. Five men and woman passed by him in suits carrying brief cases and talking on satellite phones in a hurry nearly knocking the smock and safety glasses Mr. James Peddleton was carrying. Although it was a bit of a hassle to put on all of the safety equipment necessary to work in the factory he quite enjoyed it. Mr. James Peddleton had worked in factories all his life, he had gone to college for something else but it never worked out. He tried hard every day not to think about that.

                   “James! Another glorious morning in the shit mines right?!” said Bill Seferajic. Bill was a man of Bosnian descent who had worked with Mr. James Peddleton for thirteen years now. Bill was the head of a department called: two-fifty-two.

                   Mr. James Peddleton gave a big smile, “You said it buddy! Ha! If you don’t work for dollars-“

                   “It don’t make sense!” Bill finished the saying as they pounded fists. They parted ways and went to start their day.

                    Over the years the factory had gotten a surplus of workers form foreign countries. Countries like; Bosnia, India, Korea, Cambodia, Burma, Russia, England, Vietnam, and etc. So the factory was a cornucopia of diversity which helped when it needed to ask for government grants. Foreign investors from Greenland and Argentina had become a big part of the factories business. Even going so far as to shut down a factory or two in the United States and ship them overseas. This had been profitable for the company for a number of years. It had however caused a few problems. More than once an employee from overseas had gotten there illegally. You see in the beginning the factory didn’t do extensive background checks regularly. Just last week a man had been arrested for crimes against his homeland and deported back to his country to await trial. This had caused a chain of change in command and a rehash of their foreign work policy. A big change was to their budget.

                   As he began running his machine, Mr. James Peddleton started to let thoughts slip in. The time he almost got his dream job but took up his current one because of the money. That was stupid. The time his wife, er, ex-wife left him because he had been pulling double shifts at the factory. Why’d he do that? He shook his head as if to throw the thoughts from his head. Focus on work. This is fun. This is money. As he was lost in thought his machine grabbed ahold of his smock and pulled onto him and made him repeatedly smack against it. He ripped himself free right as his group leader was walking by him.

                   “Hardly working or working hard Peddleton?” said Lou Benni as he smacked Mr. James Peddleton’s back. “Peddleton, today’s the day for your annual raise isn’t it?”

                   “Yes sir, today’s my annual increase. You gotta love working for such a great place right?!” laughed Mr. James Peddleton.

                   Lou Benni scoffed, “It’s a shit-hole Peddleton. A damn shit-hole that’ll rip out your soul and replace it with a rash on your ass and high blood pressure.”

                   “Is there something wrong Lou? A rash? Really?” asked Mr. James Peddleton.

                   “Things are about to change Peddleton. Great, the suits are at my desk. Pardon me while I go suck up their asses. What we’ll do for money Peddleton. What we’ll do.” Said Lou as he walked over to his desk. He shook hands with the suits. Men and women of the board come to have a ‘walk-through’ to see the cogs in their giant machine.

                   That was strange, thought Mr. James Peddleton. Lou was the best boss he had ever had and always such a calm, content guy. He had hardly ever heard him talk badly about anything. Even wool sweaters, despite him being deathly allergic. Mr. James Peddleton tried to banish these thoughts. It was time for lunch now. Time for Sudoku.

                   Every day for the last fourteen years Mr. James Peddleton sat at the same table, alone. He’d invited people over to sit with him but he lunched with most of the foreign workers. Oh everyone was friendly and respectable but they mostly stuck with their own, speaking the languages of their respected countries. So Mr. James Peddleton had surrounded himself with Sudoku puzzle books and brain teasers. He had just bitten into an apple when he received a call on his cell. He flipped it open and answered, “Mr. James Peddleton, hello?”

                   “Jim it’s Kim.” Said Kim Cruz. Kim was Mr. James Peddleton’s girlfriend.

                   “Hey Kimmy! I was just thinking about you. Are you busy today, around three?”

                   She paused a bit, “Jim. It’s over. There’s someone else. Plus I’m pregnant.”

                   Mr. James Peddleton spit out bits of his apple, “Pregnant?! Is-is-is it mine?”

                   “No you simpleton. I’ve sort of been seeing someone on the side. And well we’re getting married. Sorry. Look for your invite in the mail!” Click.

                   Mr. James Peddleton was speechless. He let his cell drop out of his hand and smash on the ground. It was a cheap flip phone from a very evil and cheap department store. Well at least I still have my raise today, thought Mr. James Peddleton.

                   “Son of a bitch! Did you guys see this?” said a woman with a very high pitched voice and a robust waist. Her and a bunch of other workers were standing around a bulletin board looking at a past. The factory generally used this board to post good news for the business.

                   This peeked Mr. James Peddleton’s curiosity. He made his way through the crowd to see the post which read:

UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE ALL ANNUAL PERCENTAGE RAISES ARE CANCELLED. THANK YOU. MANAGEMENT.

                   “At least we still have our jobs.” Whimpered a slender black man to Mr. James Peddleton.

                   Mr. James Peddleton just smiled, “You aint kidding brother. At least there’s that I guess. What a great job. A great job.”

                   The rest of the day went by in a blur for Mr. James Peddleton. He tried to keep up a positive demeanor despite this frustrating news. When he got out to drive home his mind started racing. Over the years the factory had cost him a lot of things now, come to think of it. A marriage. A chance at his dream job. A life he wasn’t constantly trying to convince himself that he was happy. Happy. Happy? What a strange word thought Mr. James Peddleton. Had he ever really experienced the word? The true meaning? He remembered back to when he was seven. His parents were taking him and his sister to the drive-in theater. Mr. James Peddleton remembered thinking, this is pure happiness. As this thought occurred to him he heard the sound of someone screaming. He thought, who the hell screams at ‘Lady and the Tramp’? That’s when he realized it was him. He snapped back to reality and stopped screaming. Looking at his hands he realized he had gripped his steering wheel bloody tight. “I want to go to the drive-in theater.” He said.

                   He looked around to see where he was. It was the parking lot. Mr. James Peddleton had driven himself off the lot and somehow had ended right back in his spot. Curious. Looking at the door he was filled with conviction. It’s time I gave them a piece of my mind, he thought. Closing his car door he began walking toward the factory, again. Walking through the halls a strange eerie feeling filled the place. Where he was heading was the main office, the head honcho’s , the big Kahuna’s case de big head chief. When he reached the door he stood still for a moment, taking it all in. This was his moment.

                   Over the years this office had seen many visitors. It was the office of Thomas DeLaney, a business school graduate who had made his way up the ranks. Thomas hadn’t been afraid over the years to cut a few corners. He had basked himself in Epicurean delights. There had been foreign profiteers, investors and the occasional green card bride. Many a time he had had to let go of one or two American workers, preferring the cheap labor rates he was able to offer immigrants and refugees. Thomas had never truly thought of what he was doing as evil, it was just business.

                   Mr. James Peddleton almost knocked. No. This time he didn’t deserve a knock. A knock is for someone you respect. No, Mr. James Peddleton just walked right in. The office was filled with lavish delights form across the globe. Mr. James Peddleton took notice of his surroudings. Thomas was just finishing up signing a contract. A tall man with hair, wild and untamed stared at him, this man wore an all red suit. A deep red. A blood red. “Oh Thomas. Thomas I believe you have a visitor.” Said the man in the red suit.

                   Thomas looked up, he was sweaty but smiling as he did, “Sorry son, not now. I’m in the middle of a contract signing.” Thomas DeLaney was around fifty and showing it not one bit (trade secret).

                   The man in the red suit smiled slyly, “No Thomas, I believe we’re all set here.” He took the contract rolled it up and put it in his pocket. “What was your name sir?”

                   Mr. James Peddleton puffed up his chest, “Mr. James Peddleton sir.” They shook hands, “And I’ve come to talk with Mr. DeLaney.”

                   “Talk? Hmm, yes of course. Well Mr. Peddelton my name is Mr. Lucien as Mr. DeLaney knows me.” With that Mr. Lucien walked out of the office.

                   “Have a seat Mr. Templeton.” Said Thomas as he pointed to a chair, “What can I help you with?”

                   “It’s Peddleton sir. Mr. James Peddleton.”

                    Thomas coughed to clear his throat, “Right. Right. Well John what can I do for your?”

                   Mr. James Peddleton winced at the misunderstanding of his name, “Well sir I was wondering why all the annual raises were suddenly cut this year. A lot of people depend on those Mr. DeLaney. A lot of people. And it’s James.”

                   Mr. DeLaney walked over to his window out looking the smoke stacks from his factory, “The world’s changing Templeton. America’s economy is shit. Our workforce is continually getting lazier and our people fatter and stupider. While overseas our foreign competitors are thriving in a dead market. So I’m selling the plant.”

                   “Selling the plant?!” Mr. James Peddleton stood up at this, “All of the factories? Where will they go? What will happen to all of the people who work here? Where will-where will they go?!” At this point he was right up next to Thomas.

                   Thomas turns right around and looks at Mr. James Peddleton square in the eyes smiling like the Grinch, “I don’t care.”

                   As they stared at each other deep, Mr. James Peddleton’s fists clenched tight, the veins in his neck pulsating. The door opened up and in popped Mr. Lucien’s head, “Anyone for some soothing chamomile tea?” asked Mr. Lucien.

                   They both turned and looked at him without changing their expression. Mr. Lucien smiled, “No? Okay just me then.” With that he popped back out.

                   Thomas DeLaney turned and walked back sitting at his desk turned toward Mr. James Peddleton, “it’s a dog eat cat, eat hamster world Mr. John Templeton. And I’m a lion.” He smiled snidely.

                   That is the point when Mr. James Peddleton simply could not take any more. He idled closer and closer to his boss, his oppressor, till they were nose to nose. Thomas DeLaney just continued smiling as if he knew something Mr. James Peddleton did not.

                   “It’s Mr. James Peddleton. Mr. James Peddelton!” Mr. James Peddleton grabbed onto his boss’s tie and began to strangle him while shaking him wildly. He screamed his own name over and over again, “Mr. James Peddleton! Mr. James Peddleton!” As the strangling went on he disappeared in his mind, he was back to the drive-in, he was happy. A smile began dancing across his face.

                   A knock came at the door, he looked toward it as Mr. Lucien walked in, his vision blurred. Mr. James Peddleton’s hands and fingers were covered in blood and eye juice. Looking over to the body of Mr. Thomas DeLaney he realized that at some point during the strangling he had jabbed his thumb into his dear dead boss’s eyes. That didn’t seem to matter, he just kept smiling. All was right. He no longer felt like he was holding anything in, his stress was relieved.

                   Mr. Lucien walked closer to the body, examining it, “Gee you really went all kinds of iguana crap cookoo on him didn’t you?” He plopped himself onto the dead man’s lap and propped his feet on the desk.

                   “Who are you? Really.” Asked Mr. James Peddleton still smiling.

                   “Oh me? You people have so many names for me I can never pick one. Although here in the states you pretty much agree on one name for me. Give you a hint, I have a lot of daddy issues.” Smiled coyly, Mr. Lucien.

                   “Were you in a band or something?”

                   At this, Mr. Lucien dropped his feet and his jaw, “You’re kidding right? I’m you know, Lucifer. Fallen angel and all that. Getting my jollies from messing with you folk. Can’t actually make you do anything but hey, I can set some poop up. No, I have no more control over you than that stupid rabbit trying to get those children’s cereal does in convincing you they’re delicious. I think they taste like butt.”

                   “It was all a test?” asked Mr. James Peddleton.

                   “A test? No. A joke dumbass. And your’e the punchline chucko. Funny, eh?” said Lucifer.

                   “Not really. So am I going to Hell now?”

                   The Devil scoffed, “Are you dead genius? No. This carcass I’m sitting on however? Yes. No, no Hell for you. I did call the cops though.”

                   “The Devil called the cops on me? But didn’t make me kill this man.”

                   “Pretty much. They’ll be here any minute now. Wanna order a pizza? I’m starving. Oh how rude of me. You’ll probably be gone before it gets here. Oh well.” He picked up the phone, “I wonder if they have diet coke.”

 
THE END


ONCE UPON A FOX

 

Written by

 

Mike D. Burke

 

 

One day I sat upon a bench

From the bushes came a red fox

My ice cream in hand that I did wrench

He smiled coyly like a Jester that mocks

 

My eyes became very suspicious

As he looked from left to right

Which made it hard to focus on my delicious

For it seemed he was checking who was in sight

 

I began to lick slower as I thought

When he raised his paw as if to say, ‘stop’

Like he knew what I would say would be for naught

Hw walked slowly and sat on the bench with a hop

 

The next thing he did took me by surprise

He crossed his legs and took out his pipe

Looking at me as lit his tobacco, droll in his eyes

It seemed the moment was far from ripe

 

He looked to sky and let out a breath

I looked to him and this is what I said,

“I wouldn’t share my ice cream with you even if it was meth.”

The fox just blew out some smoke and scratched his fur, so red

 

He shook his head and sighed as he spoke,

“You know, I knew your Aunt Sue.”

Realizing he could speak I started to choke,

The fox couldn’t have known her, she lives in Kalamazoo

 

“It can’t be,” I said, “Unless, Venice?”

My ice cream was melting and the fox could see this

“Yes,” he laughed, “The two of us were quite a menace.”

My brain went fuzzy and I lost my bliss

 

I laughed and continued to lick

The fox was sly, but I wasn’t going to fall for his swindle

He was very sly and conniving like a, like a, sick

What was it? Oh yes, a fox! A fox with a kindle

 

“Do you have a kindle?” I asked quite unsure

He scoffed and replied, “I have a nook.”

“Well excuse me, sir!”

I rolled my eyes and said, “Still not sharing my ice cream, crook.”

 

“So you say, so you say.” He laughed and sighed

Then he popped on his tail and began to juggle

This awesomeness left my tongue tied

He laughed and called me a muggle

 

With a swift kick to my face

I lost my pose and air

The blow making me, my ice cream displace

The fox caught it with dashing flare

 

I fell off the bench

The fox ran into the woods

My desert desires never to quench

 

And that’s how I lost my damn ice cream to a stupid, talking, juggling fox.

Jerk.

 

 



A STRANGE OCCURRENCE

 

Written by

Mike D. Burke

 

 

                              You know that feeling that someone is staring at you from behind? However when you

turn around and look, no one is even looking in your direction? Yeah, well, this isn’t just a feeling I’m getting…I’m actually being stared at.

                                Now I’m not one to complain, I’ve been stared at before. Usually it’s nothing big, I just brush it off but this was different. I mean holy shit! She’s burning a hole in my back for Christ’s sake. Who is she? New girl must be, pretty good looking too. I suppose I’m an attractive guy? Maybe I should go talk to her, nah, no. Too easy. I know she must be sending me some kind of Morse code through her look, that’s got to be it. It would really help if I was a telepath, so much for that though. Man it would be really cool If I was a telepath. Ooh, ooh! Focus she’s getting up. Wait what’s she doing? She’s, shit she’s coming toward me! Damn look at her walk…Heh. What’s this? She walks passed me and drops a note on the table? Who is she with these swift moves?

                                Guess I better open this folded up secret note on wrinkly pink paper. Hmm, she has cute handwriting. This message is strange:

 

9:45 Baseball Field

You+me. No one else.

Be there or miss FATE’S window.

Curious Aren’t you? Daved?

XOXOXO

 

                                What the Hell is this all about? A guy goes to lunch in the cafeteria of his college and expects a normal lunch. No surprises. Then someone turns the whole “no surprises” switch off and this happens? Well what can I do but try to figure this girl out a little more. Hmm, she spelt my name wrong though. DAVED instead of David. Weird.

                                Let’s see her; she’s about five-two, brunette with red highlights, rounded face but not chubby, good teeth, thin high eyebrows, straight nose and red eyes…Say now there’s something odd. She has red eyes? Contacts maybe? Red eyes aren’t exactly a normal eye color. In any case; um, she seems to be fairly well off judging from her clothing, athletic build but as the British would say, fit. She has a certain air about her, an air of mystery and confidence. Do I have any classes with her? It’s hard to think, damn history teacher won’t shut up. Hold the-what the hey?! There she is in the second row from the front in the lecture hall. Has she always been in this class? How could I not have noticed her before?

                                Seems to be the case. “Mr. Bell!” yells Mr. Conrad, my history professor catching me off guard.

                                “Yes Conrad?” I reply.

  “Mr. Bell I would appreciate it if you would actually pay attention for once in class. After all it’s your money.”

                                “And I would like to sleep one night without worrying about a surprise test in her but here I am, part insomniac.” A few laughs escape from some of the students around me. I smile.

                                “Very funny Mr. Bell. Now then, since you like surprises so much here is a question for you.”

                               “Oh boy, you’re tickling my fancy.”

  “Do you know how vexing you are? In what year did what is known as the New Empire occur and by what two pharaohs did Egypt extend her rule to Asia as far as the Euphrates? Do you know, David Bell?”

                                Okay this is a bit of a curve ball, we weren’t even talking about Egypt. We were discussing the Neolithic era but whatever. When you’re a history enthusiast like myself you remember these things between tennis practice and Abbott and Costello films.

                                “Tough one old Conrad, tough one. The New Empire as it is known to Egyptologists happened around sixteen-hundred b.c. And as for the extended rule of Egypt, it was due to Pharaoh Thothmes the third and Amenophis the third. Good enough for you?” My answer appeases him easier than I thought it would.

                                I know I’m pushing my luck with my professor but I don’t really feel that it matters. Like nothing matters except for my dreams and how I get there. A little Machiavellian I know, but that’s how I think. Well for right now anyhow. I look at the clock and it’s just about the end of this class. Then I can go home and relax before this FATE-full meeting on the field of dreams. 

                               “Mr. Bell?” My professor stops me as I’m heading for the door.

                                “Yes, sir. Look I’m sorry about my behavior. Today’s just a little strange for me.” I respond to the look he’s giving me.

  “That’s fine Mr. Bell, I’m not worried about that.” Clearly I’m no good at reading faces. A man of extreme intelligence and a keen observer. Such the like I think of myself, seems I need a little more practice. “Is something a little off today for you? You don’t seem your usual self my boy.” He reads me keenly.

                                “I’m not sure. I just have this feeling I’m blowing on fate’s wings without control. Like I’m compelled by destiny’s light to follow a certain path. However today, for the first time another trail has come to me and I’m at a crossroads. I don’t know which road to follow. Do I continue on the path I’ve been following or do I take a step toward this new path?”

                                He looks down for a moment then back to me. It seems like he’s contemplating how to respond to this question. His black bushy eyebrows come to a crease on his strained face full of experience. Professor Conrad is a robust man with plain taste in suits. He has a slight accent, whether it’s Russian or a really deep voiced Italian one I’m not sure. His mouth opens and he starts in, “David you remind me of a saying or two by the philosophers, ‘Do our ideals, hopes, acts and wills mean anything in the universe? Is it true as some hold, that we come from the unknown, are buffeted around by forces which we have no control, and at last return to the unknown?’ Now whether you believe in this saying is your own creed. However, If you take in to context that nothing is certain in thought until it becomes action then enters a new belief but an old one. You believe in free will, yes? Well there you have it, every decision can be changed in “thoughts” universe but in “actions” things are what they are. Just keep that in mind, Bell.”

                                We say our farewells and leave. I walk down the long hall, it’s about seven o’clock. Only two in a half hours about till that meeting happens. Such a strange girl she is, red eyes and all that. Maybe I should think about the meanings behind those red eyes. I get in my jeep and start it up and drive home. It only takes ten minutes to reach my street and two more to get out of my jeep and into my house. Looks like my parents are out for the night. As I turn the corner from my kitchen to the living room a figure jumps into my peripheral vision. I step back instinctively and get a look one step back. Just my Aunt Marie.

                               “Hey Aunt Marie, where’s my parents? Out?” I say cautiously.

                                She looks at me strangely for a minute and gauges my actions, “So you met her today did you? Then you know of your lineage and the power of the autumn equinox coming upon us.”

                                What the Hell is she talking about?! I mean, huh? Met her? Does she mean the girl who gave me that cryptic note, “Met who? What lineage and what power of the autumn equinox? I did get a strange note from a girl today.”

                               “Azrali? Red eyes? Red highlights?”

  “Yeah that’s her! Hey wait how do you know her? What does she have to do with all this?” I start to get really flustered.

                                “Go out to that meeting place at the time you were given. Find out the truth in lies. Except it and don’t push it away, I have to go now. Before they find out I’ve spoken out of term.” She heads toward the back door still talking and darting her head around like she is expecting an attack, “Go to her tonight David!”

                                “Aunt Marie?! Marie?!” she leaves and I’m left here standing, wondering what the Hell’s going on.

                                Azrali? What kind of name is that? Sounds Iranian or Babylonian. There must be some meaning behind those red eyes even more that I thought. What could Aunt Marie mean by my lineage? What does all this have to do with the autumn equinox? How the Hell does one day complicate my life this much? On the bright side this is kind of cool if I really think about it. Then again what if it’s really dangerous knowing all this information. My life, those around me could be in danger.

                                I have to find out tonight. Red eyes, red eyes. What could that symbolize? A vampire maybe? Blood lust and all that. Or maybe a demon of some sort, trying to tempt my soul? Curious, aren’t you? The letter said that. What time is it? I look to the nearest clock, a microwave clock. Eight fifteen. Time flies when you’re slapped in the face with new possibly dangerous information that still seems really cool to you. What do I do? I don’t want to get eaten or turned into a vampire or have my soul tempted by some possibly wicked scary demon in hot-girl’s clothing. God’s on my side though. Yeah I’m slightly protected that way.

                              Of course, I mean, my Aunt wouldn’t send me off to my death would she? Or my

damnation? Then again she seemed a little pottsie today, like all her marbles weren’t together. If I just had some clue to figure this out. The only lead I have is the meeting with Azrali tonight. I am curious, I am.

                                Nine fifteen, screw it I’m going now. Whether to my death, damnation or heritagal destiny I got to I do not know. But I know one thing. I am curious.

 

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