Obsession, Part Two

Tuesday, May 10, 1978

Maxwell was an artist! Today I found an old comic that he drew by himself. How I knew this, I’m not sure. There was no name or anything proclaiming that he drew it, but I just had a feeling that he was the man behind it all. It was a fine piece of art, and I stopped my research and began reading it.

I’m sure that if Maxwell survived, he would have gone on to become a great artist.

--

What are the odds that Maxwell’s comic was still there? I mean, it survived all these years of abandonment and the changing of tenants! Intrigued, I started reading it too.

It tells the story of a young boy who moved into a new home with his family, and started becoming obsessed with a family heirloom until it consumed him.

‘My name is Michael. My life was never meant to be a story. Until I read the atlas. That darn atlas. At first, I thought it was a gift. Now I really see that it is a curse. A curse that I hope ends with me.’

--

Thursday, May 31, 1978

Is it odd that I somehow feel that the comic is now mine? I feel like I am its owner now. It’s quite unbelievable, but that’s how I feel. Maxwell is an amazing artist. I feel everything that Michael feels. I see everything that Michael sees. I know everything. It’s as if I was being sucked into the comic itself. It really is spectacular.

--

I was on my way home that day when I felt like getting a cup of coffee. Stopping at a local diner, I ordered my favourite cup of cappuccino to bring home, but not before telling the waitress to take care not to spill the next order, which of course she did. How I knew this, I do not know. But it feels awesome! When I got home, I started reading Jack’s journal to see if this ever happened to him.

--

Thursday, June 7, 1978

This is exhilarating. I have never felt so amazing in my life. It was just like what Maxwell said. First, I started seeing things. I saw how time passes by. I saw patterns in human behaviour. I see everything. Today, I told Colin to go to his locker to get his spare clothes so that he would not get wet. Nobody believed me until a car passed by and the puddle of water nearby splashed into Colin as a result a few hours later.

Michael must have felt this way too. I don’t know how to explain it, but it is exciting- it’s as if I inherited Michael’s psychic powers somehow. Suddenly, everything has become clearer, sharper. As time passed by, I began to expect and predict events. I could tell when Dad would be back from his work, I could tell when Mum would announce that supper’s ready. I could tell when a car would pass by the road outside the estate. I feel truly invincible.

--

I went for a boxing class today, and it was amazingly fun. I knew exactly where my opponent was going to attack and could defend myself against her. After my lesson, the instructor told me that I’m a natural at this.

Life in this small town really is turning out well. I think I might find a way to document this experience. Maybe I should record videos everyday? There’s no point in uploading them online, but it would be nice to have a collection of my memories somewhere.

On my way home, I was too absorbed in my thoughts to warn the girl to not let her cellphone ruin her life. I should have paid more attention; I could’ve prevented the car from ramming into her.

--

Friday, October 13, 1978

Something is not right. My head is getting flooded with things and patterns. It feels like it’s exploding. In the past few months I’ve witnessed too many accidents and events that I could have prevented that I fear I am slowly losing my mind. I’m starting to lose my focus in smaller things- I can barely pay any attention in school, I can barely eat. All I can think about is everything that’s going on in my head.

I found some journals that belonged to Stanley Beck, Maxwell’s father. According to it, Maxwell had started getting disoriented and started hallucinating. His lack of awareness and ability to care for himself wasted him and caused him to contract a weird disease. Apparently, he had then infected the entire family one night.

What this means, I do not know. All I know is that if this doesn’t stop, I’ll have to put an end to it myself. I already know where I can find the quarry. That would be a fitting place.

--

‘Oh shit’, was all I could say as I shut Jack’s journal. 

-----------

And that's the conclusion! With this story I was really pushing myself trying to write this exactly as I had imagined it- trouble is I had envisioned certain parts of the story only and so had to fill in the blanks and so this really pushed my creativity and writing skills. Hope you enjoyed it! 

Obsession, Part One

Hey everyone! This week I decided to write a story without using prompts. Midway through writing it however I realised that it was too long for our standard entries so I shall be splitting this story into two parts. This is the first part- hope you enjoy. Please read & review!

---

I never imagined that my life would change so abruptly. I thought my life was going nowhere- I was stuck in a place where I was constantly shunned, where I had no friends, and no company at all. I kept being told that things would get better, but nothing seemed to be changing- I really thought that that was it. I was going to be stuck in a depressing life.

But that all changed when my parents surprisingly bought a new home in the countryside and forced us to uproot our entire life to settle into a new place. It was easy for me of course, but I could tell that it was stressful for Mum and Dad. It definitely wasn’t easy for them having to change jobs and everything, but I was grateful that they were still willing to do this for me.

It was a huge estate that Dad had bought with his hard earned money. It was a small town where everybody knew everyone, so I was quite nervous about not fitting in- but that all went away when I met my friends. Plus, there was all this greenery and space for me to roam around during the day, so I could also occupy my time exploring my wonderful new home.

I had a great time, and my life could not have been better. Every day there was a new place to explore. One day, I decided to silence my fears and went into the basement which had always creeped me out. It must have been from the stories I’ve read and movies I’ve watched, but I was not going to let this irrational fear take over me.

I’ve never understood the purpose of basements. If you had such a huge estate you could easily build a shed to store your belongings. But upon entering this basement, I started to see why. This wasn’t just a basement to store tools; it was where the previous tenants had kept their precious belongings.

How long have this been here? I wondered as I leafed through all their belongings. All I knew about them was what Dad had told me- that a family used to live here, until their son died in an accident and they decided to leave town and move elsewhere. The house was abandoned for many years, until now. Beyond that, I knew nothing.

My attention was brought back to my surroundings when I spotted a diary. Blowing the dust off the cover I saw that it belonged to a Jack Coleman. I flipped to the first page. After a few pages I gasped. This was the boy who died!

Saturday, January 15, 1978

I can’t believe Papa and Mama moved us here. I hate that Papa got the job offer. Why does he need to bring all of us here anyway? I have no friends here, and everyone seems to already know each other in school. Just today I thought I had a friend in Colin, but he was clearly not interested. What else can I do? Just spend my time here I guess. Every day I run around this estate, exploring every nook and cranny. But one very interesting idea came to me today. I want to research and understand the previous family who lived here, and why they left. After all, what else is there for me to do?

‘Honey, time for supper!’ my Mum yelled, which brought me back to reality.

--

That night, I spent the entire night reading Jack’s diary.

Monday, April 5, 1978

I found it! I have been at the library almost daily trying to find records of who used to live in our estate. I now know that it is called the Beck Estate, after the Beck family. The entire family died here, but I could not find any information on that. Tomorrow, I will search for more. But I wonder what would cause an entire family’s death. I hope it isn’t a murder, that would be awfully bone chilling and I would have some sleepless nights for sure.

I can now proudly tell others that Stanley Beck used to be the owner of this house, with his wife Maria, and his kids Nicholas, Isabella and Maxwell. Not much is written about the family; it appears that they were quite reclusive. All I know so far is that Mr Beck was in the farming business, and that this huge estate used to be a corn farm. 

From old school records, I have also gathered that Maxwell was quite the scholar. He may be the youngest, but he is definitely the brightest. He’s won everything from the local math competition to the spelling bee contest. I think I would have gotten along with him well.

My next research target would be the basement. I have always feared the basement a little, but I think it is now time to finally venture there. It says that the family kept their most prized possessions there, and I overheard Father saying that he might want to clear it out soon.

I wonder where this obsession with the Becks would lead.

--

I could not believe myself. I had stumbled upon something historical and monumental! This is amazing. I found that I could not stop reading Jack’s journal. The more I read, the more I understood. Maxwell had died of some disease that was common back then, but he had also infected the whole family. It was quite a sad tale- an entire family perishing just like that.

The more I read, the more absorbed I became. What happened to Jack and his family? Did he die of some disease too? I wonder where this obsession with the Colemans would lead…

--

(to be continued)

My Cassie

The alarm clock rings.

I'm already lying awake in my bed. My husband is deaf to it, as he has always been for the past 10 years. I turn the alarm clock off without even looking at it and the morning is still again. I push my feet off the bed and allow them to be greeted by my warm, fluffy slippers before I make my way to another room.

I rub my eyes. I was up all night, tired but unable to sleep. I walk through the corridor, quietly turned a familiar brass-plated door knob and pushed the door, praying that it doesn't creak.

And there it is, the most beautiful thing in my life.

Cassie is still sleeping like a rock, peacefully tucked in thick blankets with elephant prints. The story book that my husband reads to her every night is at the foot of the bed and I look for signs of late night Fruitloop treats that I specifically prohibit my husband from giving her but he gives her anyway. He spoils her, I tell you. And sometimes they turn off the lights in her room to make me believe that she's already sleeping but my baby can't laugh softly, only capable of exploding with ecstatic fits of laughter, just like me, and I hear my husband 'Shhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!'-ing her like he always does with me. Goodness knows how often I hear them giggling and agreeing not to tell me about their little snack. Sometimes I burst in the room and catch them red handed. Sometimes I just let it go. Most of the time, I join them and tell them while laughing "THIS IS THE LAST TIME, YOU HEAR?!"

I take a few silent steps forward and sit at the edge of her bed, careful to be silent, just admiring every detail of her. Her mouth that looks like her dad's is slightly opened. I look at her little nose and sepet eyes that she got from me with wonder once again. Her hair is soft and messy and her skin fair. I count the number of times I see her tiny chest rise up and down, reluctant to wake her up.

I sigh. Life passes us by too quickly. It seemed like it was just yesterday I married my high school sweetheart, got pregnant and reassured my clueless, sobbing hubby that just because Cassie vomitted on him it DOES NOT MEAN that she hates him. And now, here we are.

"Hey dear....wakey, wakey," I soothe as I patted her belly. 

"Mmmmmm........." she silently groans and turns away from me. I don't blame her.

It takes awhile, but eventually she's sitted up. Sleep is still in her eyes but I'm glad. At least she won't see my puffy and swollen eyes. 

"Mummy??"

"Mmm?" I replied. 

She doesn't continue, almost as if she forgotten what she wanted to ask. It's a trait we both share and I smile to myself as I kiss her forehead.

"Come dear," I say, guiding her to stand up. However, she sleepily, instinctively and maybe even stubbornly lifts both her hands in the air, expecting me to carry her. I know the books tell me I shouldn't give in and let her walk herself and I always have been doing that, but today, I make an exception.

"Mummy?"

"Mmm?" I replied, wondering if she's going to remember her question this time. 

She doesn't. 

"I love you, Cassie,"

"I love you too, mummy".

It was only then I notice my husband standing by the door of our room, smiling at us as he watches. I smile back.

"Mummy?"

"Mmm?"

"Will you be with me on my first day of school?"

My heart jumps to my throat and I grip her tighter, feeling fresh tears welling in my eyes.

"Yes, honey. Of course!" forcing myself to sound more cheery than I felt. I kiss her cheek hurriedly, wishing I could immortalise moments like this before she grows up too quickly.

The Glass Shoe Rewritten

I decided to try my hand at using a prompt again! More after the story. 

Fairy tales have happy endings. All of us know what happened in that mushy fairy tale, Cinderella. Write your ending to the Cinderella story, but this time make it so that the shoe fit one of the icky sisters. What does Prince Charming do? How does Cinderella cope with it? And what about the Fairy Godmother?

----------------------------------------

Cinderella was not surprised when the shoe fit Tisbe. After all, there must be more than one person who would have the same sized feet. How else could shoemakers make a living? Cinderella tried to keep herself calm. This was just like everything else that has happened to her. It was one unfortunate incident after another and she would brave through it all.

Fighting back tears, Cinderella tried to smile while Tisbe lapped up the attention of being the Prince’s favourite. She hoped that perhaps the Prince would see that the girl in front of him whose foot fit into the shoe is not the girl he met the night before. But alas, it was just blind hope- the Prince immediately got on his knee and proposed to Tisbe.

‘My beautiful maiden, will you do me the honour of being my princess and wife?’ he said.

Cinderella’s heart sank. She knew that this was probably her only chance to get out of her existing life. The Prince was not only the love of her life, but also her one-way ticket out of misery. But it looks like the door had just shut before her eyes. Cinderella was crushed; it felt even worse than when she was punished by being hit repeatedly with a broomstick.

How can I live with this? Cinderella thought. Can I stop Tisbe? Can I do anything to fight for my Prince?

--

‘Cinderella, where is my dress!’ came a shout from the house.

Sighing, Cinderella moved the pot of soup from the flame and proceeded to find Tisbe’s dress. She couldn’t believe that the Prince would be getting married to her stepsister after only five months. After all, they did encounter some problems at the start. But it looks like the Prince is finally happy. Although it pained Cinderella, she knew that she had to let him go. This is the right thing to do- she wanted him to be happy.

Cinderella only just handed the wedding dress to Tisbe when she heard a knock on the door.

She rushed to open it, knowing that she would land in hot water again if she doesn’t attend to guests quickly enough. Opening the door, she found an attractive young man with a parcel smiling at her.

‘I was told that this is the residence of Tisbe, future Princess of our kingdom. Is that true?’ he asked.

‘Yes,’ Cinderella replied. ‘This is where Tisbe lives.’

Upon hearing it, the young man handed the package to Cinderella. ‘A gift from Her Majesty the Queen,’ he said. ‘Have a good day, miss…’

‘Cinderella’.

‘Beautiful name. Have a good day, Miss Cinderella.’ And with that, he turned to leave. But before exiting the garden he turned back one last time. ‘Name’s Oliver, by the way.’ Then he left.

Cinderella felt a weird tingling sensation in her heart. She had not felt this way since she met the Prince. For the first time in months, she felt alive again. And it was because of Oliver. From that moment on, Cinderella knew that she had been blessed with a second chance. The Fairy Godmother must still have been watching over her. This time, Cinderella knew that she mustn’t be afraid.

Acting on impulse, Cinderella ran out of the house. She ran past the beautiful garden that she had tended to, that was her only distraction from the Prince and Tisbe’s wedding. She continued into the forest that she was all too familiar with, recognising certain trees and corners where she used to play as a child and where she walked towards town.

After what seemed like forever, she spotted him.

‘Oliver!’ she yelled.

He turned back. When he set his eyes on her the biggest and most charming smile appeared on his face. Cinderella ran towards him and when she was close enough she jumped into his waiting arms.

They looked into each other’s eyes. Oliver smiled again. This time, Cinderella smiled back.

‘Will you marry me?’ he asked.

Cinderella was delighted. She knew that she had finally found her prince, and that she didn’t need to be royalty to be a princess. Oliver had not needed her to be in a beautiful dress, or in a sparkling glass shoe to love her. He had seen her as she is, in her worn out hand-me-downs and still loved her.

Suddenly, the Prince and Tisbe didn’t seem to matter anymore. The Fairy Godmother was watching over her, after all, for she wouldn’t have met Oliver if the circumstances were different. And as Oliver carried Cinderella in his arms back to town where he lived, she said a silent thanks to the Fairy Godmother before living her life with Oliver happily ever after.

--------------------------------

So there you go! This is actually the first time I've ever tried writing a fairy tale or a children's story. I originally tried to go for that approach and writing it as if my audience were children, but then decided to go for something in between. At the end of the day I thought that a good children's story and fairy tale carries morals, so this was my attempt at giving a lesson on morality, added with some cliches of fairy tales and hopefully, a writing style that is suited for children's writing! 

Kor (Chinese for older brother)

Hey guys! MZ here and this is my first entry. To be honest, because I've not written anything creative properly in a very long time I found this incredibly hard to write and even harder to start, though I must say I enjoyed the whole process. I initially tried using prompts like how Jerrenn did but that proved to be too difficult for me so I decided to write something completely of my choosing. It's a very simple story but I suppose it's a start. Enjoy! And comments are much appreciated!


Tiny feet approached the room and a tiny head peered in. There he was, in the dark room on the couch, pushing the buttons of his console with his thumbs and his eyes glued to the screen. BANG! BANG! BANG! blared the speakers. She had no choice. Inhale, Jen. Inhale.

Here goes nothing.

“Kor?”

“Go away or I’ll tell Mummy you talked to a stranger when you were outside”.

 “But I didn’t!!”

RAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT!!!!

“But she won’t know that, will she?”

“I, er, need you to help me clean my fish tank when I’m away at grandma’s place,”

“STUPID CONSOLE, WHY AREN’T YOU…!”

“I said…” “Argh, can’t you get MOM to do it?! She always does it, doesn’t she?”

“Um…she’ll be away too. You’ll be the only one at home and so you’re the only one who….”

“DIE YOU ZOMBIES! DIE!!!!!”

“IF YOU DON’T CLEAN IT MY FISH WILL DAAAIIII!!!! IN ITS SHEEEEEEET!!!”

The little feet began jumping anxiously.

“Jen, can’t you see I’m a little busy?”

 “IN!!!!”

“ITS!!!”

“SHEEEEEEEEEEEEEE……..!”

“TAKE THAT YOU HORRIBLE MONSTER! AND THAT! AND…”

It was getting harder to see with the tears blinding her eyes.

“KOR!!! I SAID MY FISH WILL ….!!!”

 “And I should care because……….?”

“AHHHHH!!! YOU’RE THE WORST BROTHER EVER!”

 “And you stink! HAHA!”

The last thing Jennifer remembers of that incident was the sound of a door slammed in her face. That incident took place years ago when she was 6 and her brother, John, was 10. After the deafening door slam, everything went silent, and I mean everything. Her senses ceased to work momentarily, she was unable to move and the only thing functioning was her brain, and this left room for a quiet, powerful epiphany to form in the little girl’s mind: Did you see the way he treated you? How little he listened? How he DIDN’T listen? How can you deny the brutality of his words? I mean, come on! He's going to let your fish die in its waste!

Right there and then, she saw nothing but an invisible barrier that was built between her and her brother, him being the builder who was evidently incapable of treating her with kindness or respect, much less love. A barrier that she could do nothing about. In fact, it was just as impossible for her to do anything about it as it was for her to knock on the door in front of her or turn the door knob open even if she wanted to.

 You see, dear reader, Jennifer was born without arms.

 That is why she couldn’t clean the fish tank when she was 6. That is why she still couldn’t clean a fish tank when she was 20. That is why she couldn’t wipe away the salty frustrated tears from her eyes or the snot from her nose with a tissue paper after the shouting match like how people with arms can.

And that, my friends, is why she felt that there may have been some truth when her brother said that she stank. It was for that same reason the epiphany in her head was that her brother couldn’t, and so didn’t, love her.

 ********************

“Can you PLEEEEEEEEASE hurry up! The match is going to start any time soon! 50 bucks is at stake here, mom!” he impatiently drummed the steering wheel.

“Be patient, John! Your sister’s not decided if she wants the blue or red bag! And it’s her birthday!” Jennifer’s mom shouted just as loudly on the phone, 10 years after the fish tank argument.

“Can’t you just go on Facebook or something while waiting? We’ll look for your car in the parking lot. We’ll be done in 15 minutes! PROMISE! ” Mrs Wong then turned to her chuckling daughter and mouthed “TAKE YOUR TIME!”

 “WOMEN!” Mrs Wong heard John exclaim just before she hung up.

“Thanks mom” Jennifer smiled.

 “No problem, sweetie. You just decide which bag you want. I’m going to the toilet for a bit and if you’ve not decided by then, I suppose we could get you both bags”.

“REALLY?!”

Mrs Wong winked. “Just don’t tell your dad. It will be our little secret. Will be back soon, honey!”

Jennifer laughed. She’s 16! Finally! It sounds like SUCH a big number! She shoved both the blue and red bag into the shopping basket. It felt like it took eternity for her to be this grown up! Speaking of growing up, maybe her mom wouldn’t mind buying her one of those fountain pens…

“HEY WEIRDO!” someone hollered in her direction.

“Huh?” “What happened to your arms eh?”

“Oh, hi Alex”.

Alex was the captain of the football team of one of the high schools in the area, and yes, he was tall, dark and handsome and yes, Jennifer had a huge crush on him.

“Um, I never had arms, Alex”

“NAWH! That can’t be right! Everyone was born with arms! Come on! Show me where you hid them!” 

“Quit it, Alex,” Jennifer’s lips started to quiver.

“HEY EVERYBODY! LOOK AT THIS FREAK!!”

“Alex, stop. Please".

"Hey! Hey! Maybe you could join the circus or something! That would be sooooooooo cool!!"

Then out of nowhere, “HOW’S THIS FOR COOL, YOU LITTLE PUNK!!”

 *BAM!*

Before she knew it, Alex was on the floor writhing in pain and screaming something about his nose being broken. You should have seen his face, guys. It was bloody.

“YOU STAY OUT OF HER WAY AND YOU NEVER COME CLOSE TO HER AGAIN OR I’LL FIND YOU! YOU UNDERSTAND ME?! YOU DON’T EVER! EVER TALK TO HER LIKE THAT EVER EVER AGAIN, YOU UNDERSTAND ME??!! DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?! ARE YOU LISTENING!?”

Jennifer gasped.

“KOR, STOP!”

************************

You know how sometimes you can’t sleep because something’s on your mind? Yeah. It was 2AM and Jennifer couldn’t sleep. She kept thinking of her little epiphany when she was 6 and she couldn’t stop replaying what happened in the mall earlier that day. She had never seen John so violent and frankly it scared her a little. She got out of bed.

His room door was open.

 “Kor?”

Silence.

“Kor.”

“WHAT! I’m trying to sleep here!”

 “Thanks for….um, you know”.

 “Ee-yer! You stink! Get lost!”.

She smiled.

“Love you too, kor. Love you too”.

A Mysterious Request

Hey all! This is the first post on Five Years On! For my first entry I decided to challenge myself in two ways: Firstly, I wrote a short story, probably for the very first time. Secondly, I decided to go with fantasy, a genre that can be very tricky. I used a prompt from Writer's Digest for this one. Enjoy and please do comment!

You receive a letter at your workplace from a high school classmate, who is now in prison. “I know I’ve caused you a lot of grief,” the letter says, “but there’s something I need that only you can get for me. Don’t tell anyone about this.”

_________________________

How did she even get my work address? I thought to myself, still reeling from the shock. I didn’t need to read the rest of the letter to know what she wanted from me. There really is just one thing that we both share- a secret that should’ve followed us both to our graves.

I forced myself to continue reading anyway. I needed to know why she did this, and how she got into this mess.

“I know we agreed back then to not talk about this, but I was recently involved in a prison scuffle. I know the signs; I know what’s coming next. If I’m not careful I would probably be another casualty real soon. But you can help me, Leslie. You know how. I’m begging you, if you can find room in your heart to forgive me, then please, help me out with this.”

The first thought that came to my mind was that she must be very desperate to be asking for this. But I can’t just risk everything for her; I can’t just walk into a grave without anyone noticing me. Plus, this could definitely be another of her games, except that this one could end up very badly for me. Very, very badly.

I had to proceed very carefully then. Scout the area for a few days first before making my move. As I was planning all this it hit me. When did I even decide to help her out? After all she did to me, she deserved being in prison. I mean, what’s prison compared to a mental institution halfway across the world?

I considered my options, but found that I was too panicky to be able to think straight. I considered paying her a visit to find out what exactly is happening before deciding whether or not I wanted to lend her a helping hand. But can I risk it? If she really is in trouble then I might just land myself in hot water too.

But before I knew it, I found myself sitting in my parked car at the Keynes Cemetery in the middle of the night. I don’t know what made me do it, but I kind of acted on a whim. I was just sitting at home by myself doing the dishes when the thought of heading to the cemetery came to me, and before I knew it, I couldn’t get it out of my head.

I tried to calm myself down as I looked out the window. It looked like a calm night, and I was sure that there was nobody around, I had drove in a circle to check beforehand. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.

Am I really doing this? I thought. My mind brought me back to more than a decade ago when Julie and I were the best of friends. We did everything together. Needless to say, she was the wild one and I was just mostly tagging along. While she got me into trouble a couple of times, they were all minor scuffles. Until the night we came to Keynes.

And of course, having the luck that we did, on that same night a group of people in long, red robes with a hood were conducting a ritual of sorts. At first, I thought that they were just a group of crazy people who believed that they had the power over the Earth’s elements or something like that.

Julie and I hid and stayed quiet. When they left, we went to the spot where they were standing, and found just one thing- a black box. And Julie being Julie, she took the box. We ran away after that. When we went home we opened it and found black powder inside. Not knowing what it was, I sprinkled some on Julie. She immediately went into a trance and I could tell her what to do. It was like mind control.

Realising that this wasn’t something we could fool around with anymore, we decided to bury it, and keep it only between the two of us. I was terrified that night, because I know just how powerful this thing can be and wanted nothing to do with it, whatever it is. But now, of course, Julie needed it to get herself out of trouble.

I got out of the car, trying to be as quiet as possible.

‘Finally,’ a voice said. ‘I was getting bored, Leslie.’

I was stunned. ‘Julie?’ I said.

It was her. She stepped out of the shadows. How did she get out? What is happening? I was beginning to panic. Obviously this was a trap. Julie wanted me here. But for what?

‘What do you want from me?’ I said as Julie came closer to me.

‘Oh you’ll find out soon enough,’ she replied. ‘But first we need to take care of something.’

And the last thing I remember was her blowing the black dust towards me.