The Timepiece

         

By Jay Nystrom

            Marine Sergeant Clive Rothwell walked through the doors of the small used bookstore, the two tarnished silver bells affixed above the doors chimed as he entered. The smell of old and rotted paper wafted to his nose, he took a deep breath and relished the familiar smell. For him nothing struck that loving chord like the air found in libraries or bookstores, it was like stepping back in time and knowing that the great writers and philosophers both ancient and new had worked in such environments. He had walked through the doors thousands of times, and just like the very first time nearly fourteen years before he was greeted by the same aging Doctor. Over the years the Doctor had gone from a distinguished and proud man to a silver haired shell, his pale blue eyes glassy, father time himself seemed to have stood upon his stooped shoulders. The Doctor feebly shook hands with Clive and waved him to the sitting area, his old liver spotted hands shook at the effort of pouring two cups of tea but he would never accept any offered help.

            Clive added sugar to his cup and stirred the aromatic liquid with a tiny spoon, he took a sip and enjoyed the smooth and sweet drink as it traveled down his throat. “I’ve finally finished it you know,” said the Doctor, his voice tinged with sadness, “after nearly all of my adult life spent here I’ve finished it. It all seems quite anticlimactic to be honest, the rush of discovery has long since lost it’s luster and sheen. I remember the beginning, I don’t remember much at all anymore but I remember the beginning.” The Doctor rose slowly from his chair, his old skin sagged on his skeletal frame. He moved to a shelf filled with books, knickknacks, and curios, he removed a golden pocket watch from it’s place.

            He laid it on the table next to Clive, he pressed a button on the side and the watch sprang open. The second hand ticked softly, counting the minutes precisely. “This is the watch that my Great-Great Grandfather carried with him as he crossed the Atlantic after leaving his home in Belfast to come to America. After all these years it still keeps time just as well as any of those fancy satellite connected smart phone can, hell maybe even better so.” The Doctor opened the back panel to reveal the inner workings of the timepiece, the gears spun and whirled in a beautiful blur of motion and expert craftsmanship. “Each gear was hand cut and placed by an expert artisan who trained for decades perfecting his craft,” continued the Doctor, “these are not just a way to tell the time Sergeant Rothwell, these are priceless works of art.”

            “I’ve never seen you so sentimental before Doctor, in all the years I’ve visited you here in this quaint bookstore I’ve never once heard you talk about yourself. Why now?” The Doctor chuckled softly as he closed the pocket watch with great care, “Like I said Sergeant, I’ve finally finished the project. It will truly be the greatest thing I’ll never be known for, the curse of working on secret government projects I guess. I don’t regret it for one single second but I gave my entire adult life in this pursuit, my marriage crumbled shortly after I took on this project twenty eight years ago. I didn’t get to see my son grow up, I haven’t seen him in nearly twelve years and even then it was just meeting a stranger who happened to carry my DNA. But that’s the thing about life, you only get one shot, you don’t get to do it over.” Clive agreed but this only elicited another chuckle from the Doctor.

            “Oh Sergeant, that truly is grand, I know you come and check in on me for your department. I hand you a file marked ’Top Secret’ and you go along your way, sometimes with a book or two in hand. However, you do your job like a good little soldier, never peek at the files, never bother to ask what it is I do here. Well today that all changes, I’ll hand you your precious little folder but you get the pleasure of being the first and quite possibly the only person to see the fruit of my labors.” The Doctor got up and beckoned Clive over to the door at the back of the little room. “That’s above my pay grade Doctor,” said Clive, “I have no authorization to lay eyes upon your project. I could report you for even suggesting it, hell I should report you but after all these years I’ll let one slide.”

            The Doctor seemed to ignore the warning from Clive, he just beamed a huge smile, it looked as if his face had forgotten how to do it. The Doctor inserted a key into the lock and turned it, he walked into the back room without looking back towards the Sergeant. The door was left swaying as the Doctor disappeared into the room, beyond the threshold of the frame Clive could glimpse shining machinery that turned and ticked with tiny bursts of steam emanating from tubes and gauges. Clive thought twice about following but decided that maybe just this once he would let his curiosity get the better of him, he lived his entire life listening to the orders of others. First his father, then after his death his step father, football coach, and finally the string of commanding officers of his military career. Clive stepped through the door.

            His eyes widened at the sight, gleaming brass turned and twisted in knots. The machine was nearly twelve feet high and spanned the entire width of the sixteen foot room, Lord knows how deep it went. The entire thing shook with pressure and sputtered like an engine, the tubes wiggled back and forth. Clive’s eyes traveled the tubing, he traced what seemed to be the logical course but got lost in the labyrinth of piping. The Doctor was near a control panel of some sort, he was pulling levers and tapping on the glass of various needled gauges. He turned to Clive and was still grinning ear to ear. “Welcome, United States Marine Corp Sergeant Clive Rothwell, today you witness history all the while I rewrite it.” The Doctor walked over to a bookshelf, he grabbed a book from the shelf. It looked old and worn, it’s pages yellowed, the cover faded beyond recognition, and a well worn crease on it’s spine. He stepped onto a small raised dais, “Sergeant, if you would be so kind as to push that green button to your right.”

            Clive walked over to the button, his hand hovered over it for a moment, “One question Doctor,” The Doctor nodded his head, “what book is that?” The Doctor’s smile grew even wider, his eyes sparkled with a fire that the world hadn’t seen in decades. “H.G. Wells, The Time Machine, a personal favorite.” Clive pushed the button and a light from below the dais illuminated the Doctor, the machine quaked mightily causing steam to burst forth from several pipes. The Doctor closed his eyes as the light brightened, then without warning a blinding flash emitted from the machine. Clive covered his face for protection, after realizing the machine had fallen silent he turned back and opened his eyes. The Doctor was gone.

Epilogue

            The tide ebbed and flowed gently turning the unconscious half naked man on the sands. A lifeguard sprinted down the beach, his footprints filled with water nearly as quickly as they formed. He slid down to his knees and turned the young man to his back, the man looked no older then fifteen, just a boy. The lifeguard gently lifted the chin with two fingers and forced a breath into the boy’s lungs and compressed his chest firmly with his palms. The boy coughed and spewed water, the lifeguard turned him to his side. The boy looked up with surprise, “What year is it?” The lifeguard looked puzzled, “What year sir?” The lifeguard shook his head, “It’s 1939 son, December to be exact.”

            The boy sat up, he flashed a huge grin, his pale blue eyes sparkled.

End

The Dead Drop

By Jay Nystrom

    Matthew South sat down on the dirty, stained park bench. It had, in it’s many years served as a bed, a meeting place for lovers, a rest stop, and in the beginning a tribute to a person whose name had long ago been scratched from the brass memorial plaque affixed to the back. Today it served as a dead drop, a small watertight compartment had been carved into one of the wooden planks that served as a seat. Matthew discreetly slipped a small tube that contained a micro SD card into the hidden cubby, he sat for another ten minutes at that bench before he left for home. Along the way he would walk by a foreclosed house that now was succumbing to the vines and weeds in the yard that surrounded it. He quickly glanced to see if anybody was around, satisfied that he hadn’t been followed he placed the tiny red flag on the mailbox in the upward position.
    Once home Matthew sat at the edge of his bed, he looked around the cramped space. He lived in a studio apartment that was barely big enough for his few possessions, he could literally piss from his kitchen counter into his toilet. The depressing place was made tolerable by the fact that as soon as he earned a degree he could find a high paying job and leave this shithole far behind him. He lay back on his bed and closed his eyes, he hoped that when next he walked by the derelict house the flag would be down. If it was he would walk to the corner market after dark and crack open a loose brick in the alleyway behind it. Inside the hole would be a wad of non-sequential small bills and maybe another card, a big payday for the simple task of placing memory cards into a park bench.
    How he had stumbled into such a money making endeavor was pure happenstance and luck. At his lowest point, jobless and drowning in student loan debt, he was contacted by one of the men who worked in the student cafeteria. He was offered the simple job and he accepted immediately, easiest money he had ever made. He kept a job at a grocer just to help pay bills but without the money on the side he would have starved long ago.
    The next morning Matthew walked by the house and sure enough the flag was down, he walked the three blocks to the corner store and retrieved his payment. He went inside and bought a basket full of ramen noodles, an eighteen pack of the cheapest beer, and a pack of Light 100’s. As he left the market he nearly ran right into a woman turning the corner, she apologized for the incident but Matthew’s eyes had muted his hearing. In front of him stood the most gorgeous girl he had ever seen, and that can be said without exaggeration. She was tall and lean, her hair was a natural brunette cut in that pixie style that Matthew loved so much. Her face had barely any makeup on it, just a little eye shadow tastefully placed around big brown eyes, and tangerine lipstick, but it was absolutely flawless.
    Matthew stumbled through an apology and started to walk away, she grabbed his arm and stopped him. “You nearly run me over and don’t even offer to take me to dinner in apology?” Her voiced dripped like honey, thick and smooth from her lips, a slight accent elongating the ’A’ sounds. He somehow managed to muster enough courage to agree and exchange numbers with her, after she walked away he looked at the scrap of a paper, above the numbers was the name Chloe.
    The night of their date Matthew showered and put on his best clothes, a pair of high end jeans and a black button up shirt. He waited outside the café where they had agreed to meet, when he saw her walking up the street his heart filled his throat. She was wearing a simple blue sundress, her sway caused the bottom hem to swish hypnotically, he barely noticed that she had drawn close. He was about to offer his hand when she stepped in and with her hands gently on his shoulders she kissed his cheek, he got lightheaded but regained focus quickly.
    They spent the evening talking and laughing, he did his best to play the smooth talker, the suave gentleman. After their cups had nothing but drops left she offered to walk home with him, he didn’t know if it meant what he hoped it meant but any time spent in her presence was time well spent. The walked slowly back towards his apartment, there was no rush and the two of them enjoyed the cool breeze on the warm autumn night. Halfway home she looped her arm in the crook of his elbow and placed her head on his shoulder, the sweet floral notes of her perfume swam in his head.
    At the entrance to his building he stopped, his hands started to sweat and his heart pounded in his ears. Should he kiss her? Invite her up? What signals had she thrown his way? He was no good at this sort of thing, he had had a few girlfriends here and there but nothing like her, nothing like this. She interrupted his frantic inner monologue by grabbing his hand, she stepped ahead of him leading him up the stairs to his place. The night was intense and passionate, he had never felt like this before, instant love he thought.
    The dawn came through the open blinds, they hadn’t slept all night. Her naked leg was tossed over his lower body, she was tracing imaginary things on his bare chest. Chloe asked him what he did for a living and he told her about his job, not his real job but the crappy cashier job he had at the grocery store. She kissed neck, then his chest, then up to his lips. She asked what he wanted to be, what he was going to school for, how he could afford his bills and tuition. He told her about his side job, the little thing he did for extra cash, he didn’t know why but he couldn’t help but let her know.
    After a few more hours spent blissfully in her presence she started to dress, her lacy black panties and bra went on first, then the dress she left her house in. “Will I ever see you again Chloe?” he asked nervously, afraid to break the spell the perfect night had cast. She climbed on top of him and whispered “Yes” into his ear, then she put on her heels and left.
    The rest of the day was spent as usual except for the afterglow of an exceptional evening, he picked up another SD card from the brick wall and placed it in the park bench. He went by the broken down house and placed the little red flag back up and headed home. In the evening he went home, at the door he fumbled and patted himself looking for his keys. He looked up and saw a woman with long blonde hair walking down the sidewalk towards him, for a second he was confused, she looked  eerily familiar, as she got closer he noticed her rhythmic strides. She took off her glasses to reveal big beautiful brown eyes, three sharp cracks shattered the calm night air.
    Matthew fell to the ground, his mind unable to comprehend what was happening, the concrete quickly became soaked and sticky with his blood. He choked and the red spittle splashed from his mouth to the ground, soon he stopped moving all together. He died never knowing why, and he left nothing behind but a strawberry stain on the sidewalk.
End

Dirty Shallow Graves

By Jay Nystrom

Part I:
Long time Coming

    Raymond put the ear pieces of the stethoscope into his ears, he put the other end against the safe next to the dial. He closed his eyes and slowly turned the dial until he heard the first click, he began to twist the dial in the reverse direction. Then he heard the second click, as he started the other way he was interrupted by another click. Then another click, and another, click, click, click, click, click. The rhythm increased, click, click, click, click. Raymond wiped the sweat from his brow with a handkerchief, the clicking was now almost a steady sound in his brain threatening to consume his very mind. Raymond woke with a start, the dark room confused him at first. A steady thumping caused him to become frightened until he realized it was just his heart trying to escape the confines of his chest. He absent mindedly touched a long scar running from behind his left ear jaggedly down his jaw line and ending just before it reached his tracheae. It had been nearly three years since the injury occurred, he got it from the grounded to a point end of a cheap plastic toothbrush while he was eating in the prison cafeteria.
    He was lucky that his stretch was a short one, the prosecutor wasn’t able to pin theft charges on him. The rest of his group wasn’t so lucky, while he was trying to crack the safe in the upstairs room the other four men were down below raiding the rest of the rich man’s house. Raymond could see the flashing lights of the cop cars as they came down the street running silent, he packed up and climbed down from a large upstairs deck that jutted from the house. He was able to toss his tools into a fast running stream that ran at the edge of the property, the police caught him a little ways down the street and while his tight lips kept him from being connected to the burglary the cocaine in his pocket was enough to put him away. For some reason ditching the tools crossed his mind but the drugs didn’t, call it a slip in clear thinking, it wouldn’t be his last.
    Raymond took a quick shower and chugged down a half pot of black coffee and some plain wheat toast as he headed out to work. Very few companies would hire a convicted felon but he found some under the table work for a pick and pull junkyard. Raymond was underneath a green and rust colored ’77 Nova when a large pair of boots crunched the gravel near his upper body, they stopped near the front of the car and a face dipped down to look at his. Raymond hiccupped at the sight of his little brother’s beaming face, he slipped out from under the car.
   
“Ray Ray, it’s been too damn long big bro.” His brother hugged him tightly and kissed him affectionately on the cheek. He stepped back and gently slapped Raymond on the cheek, “Tim told me I might be able to find you in this sleepy little burg, didn’t think this was quite your scene my man.”
   
    Raymond gained a little distance from his brother, it had been six years since they had last seen each other and for Raymond if he had never seen him again it would be much too soon. His fists clenched ready for any action, his brother’s face started to lose it’s stupid grin. Soon the seriousness of the moment took hold of the both of them, Raymond turned away without a single word  and started across the car filled yard. His brother ran from behind and turned him with a strong hand.
“What’s your problem? After all these years we don’t see each other you treat me like shit Ray? That’s the way this is gonna be huh, you really want to do it this way then that’s how we’ll do it.”

    The knee caught Raymond right in the groin, he fell to one knee as his brother threw a looping right hook that caught Raymond on the temple. His vision blurred and he could feel his consciousness slipping away, he crawled and grabbed the pant leg of his brother who took a slow step back and let him fall face first to the ground. Raymond felt spit rain down from above and a kick of dust caked his hair, his brother walked away muttering to himself. 

Part II:
First Time, Last Time

    It had been two weeks since Raymond’s brother had beat the hell out of him, the bruises to his body were beginning to fade but the anger had only boiled over. After a few hours on the internet he was able to track down all four of the other thieves he had worked with. Two had been killed while in prison, it made his job easier sure but also robbed him of a little justice. The third moved across the country and was now happily married and according to his latest status update was “Clean, sober, and at peace with God.” The research was really unnecessary, Raymond knew that the reason he was targeted in the cafeteria was because his brother wanted to make sure that he kept his mouth shut. After all that his brother had done he still thought it was okay to hunt him down just to assault him in the junkyard where he worked. It was the first time in years they had seen each other, next time would be the last time.

Part III:
Dirty Shallow Graves

    Raymond’s brother was sitting in a lawn chair smoking a joint and sipping on cheap beers. Empty cans surrounded the chair like tiny aluminum alarms, an impromptu perimeter. Raymond swung his fist as hard as he could and his brother caught the full force of the blow in his neck, this produced a gurgling sound from his throat. The blow didn’t stop his brother like Raymond had hoped, he didn’t care for knives or guns but thought that he should have bent his own rules. His brother wrestled Raymond to the ground and began to wail away with a fury of fists and Raymond clawed at his face in defense. The two struggled for the upper hand with Raymond landing sharp elbows and his brother fracturing an orbital bone in Raymond’s face, that eye would never be the same again. An elbow found a nose and blood spurted uncontrollably from it, Raymond took the opportunity to roll on top and a few hammering fists ended the fight quickly.
    Raymond found an old shovel in a tool shed behind his brother’s broken down single wide trailer. He found a place a good distance away and started to dig. The shovel chipped away at the hard, arid ground. The summer had been harsh on this stretch of Earth. Fireflies began to fill the evening air twinkling like stars surrounding a black hole. A black hole built for one. Afterwards Raymond just walked away, leaving the last hanging thread left of his old life dead in the ground.

End

5-1

By Jay Nystrom

       The air hung thick and still as waves of heat rose shimmering from the asphalt. The steady shuffling of feet across the parking lot promised that despite the oppressive summer sun a large crowd was guaranteed at the track. Most of the people who passed through the turnstile were here for a fun day of horseracing at the local track, however five of them were here for a different reason. Five people who had nothing more in common then a debt owed, that and the shared anonymity of a nickname derived from birds. Despite his considerable and well toned girth the man called Hummingbird was quick with his feet and his wits. Hummingbird made his way across the lot and nervously shifted his eyes beneath the brim of his fedora, he wiped away the powder from his palms with a handkerchief. He would probably be late for the first race but his timing guaranteed a mostly empty lot.  He was here to collect for a job he had performed for his boss, he never understood the need to launder money through the racetrack but it was of little concern to him. Soon enough he would be a made man and that was all that mattered to him.
    At the very same time Goose was already seated in a lower row of bleachers with a great view of the finish line, not that it mattered much because he already knew the outcome. Never the less it was great to be back, he often came with his late father when he was just a child. As he took an offered smoke from the cigarette vendor he saw Nightingale walk to her seat a few rows down. She was wearing a wide brimmed hat with a large flower gaudily glued to the side, he had only seen her one other time but he was instantly smitten by her astounding grace and beauty. ‘Maybe’ he thought to himself, ‘after this is all said and done I’ll ask her to dinner. We already have something in common so I’ll have a conversation starter. Yes, I think I’ll do it, why not? What do I have to lose?”
    Nightingale glanced from behind her glasses towards the man she knew as Goose, he was staring at her just like he had the night they passed each other in the back room of the pool hall where she worked. She guessed that he too was here to bet on a certain horse that was a sure thing. She sat down and tried her best to deal with the unbearable heat for the next few races so she could get her money and leave. She hoped he wouldn’t try to engage her.
    The last two men had come together and were just now on the betting floor, Raven and Heron pretended to study the tote board intently despite the fixed nature of the second race. The two men were nearly identical in size and shape, both were on the smaller side with almost no fat on their bodies. The two were known around town as tough customers who ran numbers in the ghetto, a fair pair but not known to take shit from anyone. Heron was amusing himself by reading the colorful names of the competing horses: War Machine, Good or Glue (that one elicited a chuckle), Superluminal, Try as He Might, Divine Intervention, and the one he was really looking for, Sterling Stanley. He took his spot in line and prepared to lay down his large bet, the cashier repeated the horses name and odds to make sure all was correct, “Sterling Stanley at five-to-one.” Heron nodded confirmation and in a few minutes and a few people back Raven would repeat the bet. Both would come out with a whole lot of money in their pockets and smiles across their faces.
    While the first race was pretty exciting for the five connected people the second race held little surprise as Sterling Stanley made an amazing come from behind victory in the home stretch to steal the win from Good or Glue. The five people nonchalantly made an early exit despite the remaining races and went to collect their substantial winnings from the cashier. A few other people where in line to collect winnings from the early races, but one by one the big winners were led to a different area altogether with heightened security. Only six people were led to this area, all but one knew they would be making this much money. The first man entered into a room by himself, through the briefly open door Nightingale could see a cashier flanked by two armed guards with another door beyond. The five exchanged a quick glance, maybe all of them had the same thought, maybe all were about to give in to the greed. The door opened and the man walked away with a small bag full of money, Hummingbird decided to make the move.
    He rushed into the room past Nightingale gently pushing her aside, the guards put their hands to their guns. Hummingbird began to speak quickly, “Sorry babe I just gotta get my money real quick, there’s a train I gotta catch.” The guards began to relax a bit at the explanation, the guard behind the door opened the safe room too early and Hummingbird charged to block him from closing it. Feeling that an opportunity was about to pass Heron and Raven rushed the confused guards as Goose closed the door behind him. The guards were barely able to draw their guns before they both were tackled to the ground, a few punches from Raven subdued the first guard while Heron used the butt of the pistol to take out the other. The five looked to each other in wide eyed lust, despite the lack of not knowing each other they knew that a heist was just started. Hummingbird beckoned the others to the safe room using the frightened cashier’s chair to prop open the door. The cashier was shoved to the floor by Goose and Heron with the gun pushed against the nape of his neck, the others sprang to action. The room was filled with stacks of cash and Hummingbird filled bags as fast as he could. The money was split evenly between the impromptu crew and a silent moment was exchanged. The cashier was knocked unconscious and thrown into the cash room with the two guards, the five people began to hide the money on themselves. Heron and Raven simultaneously said, “Kansas City” and having the only two guns in the room leveled them and opened fire, the other three people had no time to react and fell to the floor in heaps of blood and cash.
    Heron and Raven quickly grabbed as much cash as they could, the shots would alert more guards. They peeked out the door and saw it was clear, they ran out towards the parking lot. Through the turnstiles they passed several policemen who were hurrying the other direction, they paid little heed to the two men leaving the area. A few other officers blanketed the lot but the duo snuck deftly around cars, any road blocks would be easy to crash through in their heavy beast of a car. They found their vehicle and slithered in, Heron stuck the key in the ignition and turned the car over.
    The explosion rocked the entire race grounds and in the parking lot a rainstorm of blood fell to the ground as burning bills gently fluttered down. The sun began to set in the distance and the sky glowed in beautiful shades of purple in pink.

End
  
  

Crying Stars

This ended up being a little like a sugar skull which was not my intent, but that's okay. It is what it is.

Edge of Time/Sanity

DOCTOR OCCULTUS AND THE GHOST OF RUE DAUPHINE

By Jay Nystrom

    The cold November wind bit harshly into the skin of Doctor Occultus and he drew his heavy wool coat closer, it had been nearly three years since he had walked these streets last. He remembered the sights then, the streets were dirty with rubble and the flags and propaganda posters of the Nazi occupiers were ablaze on the ground. Desecrated in more ways then most could imagine. Occultus had been part of the Allied forces that marched in to free the famed City of Lights, but it was the resistance that had done the leg work to free themselves. He had made many friends in the following months, most had worked in one way or another with the French underground. Many cut phone lines and sabotaged food stores, others still ran the tiny hand presses to spread newspapers written beneath the noses of Hitler’s own Waffen-SS. Occultus counted those men and women as the bravest of the war and found kinship among them more then he often found in his own army, among the Parisian he was judged more on his actions as a man then the color of his birth.
    As Occultus wandered down the street he noticed the shadows of war all around him, houses unoccupied and others burnt husks were people once ate, drank, loved and lived. Despite all that she had been through the city pushed on, vibrant and full of life but with the undercurrent of a city shattered swirling beneath the veneer of energy. A few of the abandoned buildings still bore the mark of the Croix de Lorraine, a mark to distinguish itself as part of those brave enough to stand against tyranny. One of the buildings caught the eye of Occultus, a fresh coat of paint on its exterior almost led to it being overlooked but the hanging wooden sign was the same one that hung in 1944. It read “Un petit Oiseau” and a peeling painting of a small black bird adorned the sign, it meant ’A little bird’ and the humor was never lost to the good Doctor. When Occultus entered he saw his good friends Margot and Savon seated at a corner table. When Savon saw Occultus he quickly rose and embraced him.

    “Bienvenue ami!” Savon kissed Occultus affectionately on the cheek.

    “Savon, Margot good to see you both, although I wish it were under better circumstances.”

    “It seems fate would conspire to join us in distress only chéri.”

    Margot’s voice wavered slightly as she beckoned Occultus to the empty chair and slid over a glass of wine. The years since had been kind to Margot and Occultus thought to himself that she was even prettier with age, Savon however looked no less world weary then the first time they had met. Savon shifted uncomfortably in his chair and tried to hold the eyes of his old friend.

    “There is no need for that Savon, we are friends and you can always speak freely.”

    “Sorry, it’s just that this has been a difficult time for Margot and myself. Vivienne is our everything.”

Margot reached her hand to enclose Savon’s but Occultus could see the tears form on her cheeks, both were having a hard time keeping it all together let alone tell of what had happened but he needed information and time was always of the essence in a case like this.

    “Tell me what happened Savon, take all the time you need but spare no details. Even that which seems unimportant may hold clues to finding her.”

    Savon told Occultus all he could remember about the events that surrounded that terrifying day. It had been a warm fall day when Margot and Savon had taken Vivienne out to shop for a new winter coat. It had all been so sudden, two masked men had stumbled out of the boutique, cash fluttering from hastily stuffed bags. One of the men crashed into Margot and Vivienne sending them sprawling to the ground. Savon tried to intervene but the second man fired three rounds towards him and two found their way to his side puncturing a lung and nearly rupturing his spleen. There was little he could do as the first man grabbed Vivienne by the hair and started to run, the very last time Savon saw her was as his blood soaked outstretched hand grasped the air as his vision faded to black.
    Margot then lost all of her composure and break down, Savon hugged her close as he too couldn’t hold on any more. Doctor Occultus reached over and did his best to console them both, he knew that this was going to be very hard on them but he would do all in his power to help them. Savon steadied himself and took a sip of wine.

    “I understand that this is a lot to ask of you, and it is a great thing for you to fly here for the sake of friends you haven’t seen in years. When I tried to think of who could help you were the first person in my mind, I know you took up detective work in the States. I just…”

    Savon nearly broke down again but Occultus squeezed his hand.

    “I will do all that I can Savon, you and Margot are very dear to me and I will not stop until this is resolved.”

    All three rose from the table and Occultus hugged both as he took his leave. The story ran through his mind as he walked back in the stiff icy breeze, the air helped clear his mind of attachment and the soft fog of the wine. He knew that there was very little hope of finding the girl alive, it had been nearly a week since the kidnapping and the local police force had very little to go on. For Doctor Occultus this was personal and the men who were responsible would pay. His search wove in and out of the Paris underworld, angry men stuck in the past plotted against Germany and Britain. Petty men took advantage of weak and downtrodden patriots, all of them sickened Occultus but their information slowly led him towards the kidnappers.
    A small time hood by the name of Sebastien knew of a few crooks who stole high end clothes to sell in the smaller towns around France. After some rough persuasion Sebastien told Occultus of a townhouse near a burned out church that housed two men named Remy and Allard. The stench of death wafted to the nose of Doctor Occultus as he entered the house and he knew his suspicions to be true, the living room was empty and his footfalls rang in the hollow house. Nobody was here, his search continued slowly and from the corner of his eye he caught a fleeting figure run down the hall. As he drew nearer the figure ran the other direction, always on the fringe of his vision the ghost darted to and fro. Any other person wouldn’t be sure they saw anything at all but Occultus was experienced in such things so he followed the ghost skillfully, as he cracked open the door to a basement he heard a muffled cry from within. The stairwell was dark and no light was to be found so Occultus traced small runes as he descended, each one slowly flickered to life and began to illuminate the area. At the bottom of the stairs the room widened and in the corner lay the small shriveled corpse of Vivienne, his balanced wavered and tears poured to his cheeks. Occultus had seen horrors before but this was personal, two of his dear friends would learn from his tongue that their daughter no longer lived. The burden of knowledge quickly gave way to rage at the monsters responsible and his mind flooded with horrid and villainous things as he plotted vengeance.
    Occultus left the house with Vivienne wrapped in the cleanest blanket he could find and as he walked the lonely dirt road he could see the little girl keep pace slightly behind him, her spirit restless and lost. Occultus didn’t reach the house of Margot and Savon until dusk and fog had begun to wrap about the fields and houses nearby. As the door opened Margot fell to her knees, Savon took the cold and tiny Vivienne from Occultus and walked inside. Occultus picked Margot up from the floor and helped her to the bed, little was said between the three of them, no words would do anyway. Occultus took his leave and made his way towards his rented room, the space was small inside, little more then a rough cot and a single uncovered bulb hanging from the ceiling casting stark and sharp shadows on the walls. Occultus opened his travel rucksack and carefully laid out its contents, a piece of black charcoal, small bones from a pouch, a folded sheet of papyrus and a small sharp dagger. He took the papyrus and unfolded it out onto the dusty wood planks of the floor, he slowly cut a shallow groove into his palm with the dagger and squeezed the bones with the bloody fist. While the blood soaked the tiny bones he drew a complicated sigil into the papyrus with the charcoal and when he was finished dropped the bones onto it. The sigil lit a blood red on the paper which was quickly folded and placed in a small leather pouch and shoved in a pocket.
    On the outskirts of town Remy and Allard snuck under the cover of darkness and fog into the husk of the church next door to the house. Under a trap door a secret room held the stolen loot of their misdeeds, stacks of cash sat on tables and high end clothes hung on crudely built racks in droves. Both took a small wad of cash and laughed together as they left, full of whiskey and covered by the potent perfume of cheap whores they sung and danced into the front room. Stopped in their tracks and nearly shocked sober the duo found Occultus standing in the center of the floor. He was covered in feathers and beadwork looking like some vengeful god of hawks and stood inside a glowing green circle, next to him stood the ethereal form of Vivienne. Before Remy could react Allard darted towards the door but fell in his haste, his liquor soaked brain misfiring his muscles and slowing his escape. Occultus tossed the folded papyrus to the floor and the blood covered bones danced like dice across the floor as they exited the now burning papyrus. As the bones continued to bounce each one lit on fire and quickly morphed to take the shape of a fiery bird that swooped and cawed towards Remy and Allard who shrieked loudly in fear. The birds circled and pecked as Remy fell joining Allard on the floor, both were covered in fire and burned as if drenched in fuel. In the commotion and scrambling the entire room had caught fire except the circle surrounding Doctor Occultus, the fire moved with unnatural speed and the bodies burned to ashes in mere minutes. In only a short amount of time the entire house had become nothing more then black ashes swept in the gentle breeze and lost in the thick fog that now shrouded the town.
    Only after all traces of retribution had dispersed did Occultus leave the safety of the circle, his hand gently held by the smiling apparition of Vivienne. Nothing more could be done now, justice had been carried out in her name. As they walked the form of Vivienne slowly dissipated into the fog forever leaving this Earthly plane. Occultus boarded his plane home two days later without talking to Savon and Margot, he was physically and mentally exhausted and longed for his own bed. 

                                                                             Fin