Eavesdropper and the Bartender

April 14th, 2019 by P. Starks

Artwork by Russ Mills @  byroglyphics.com

Inside, everything was no different than the door William had walked through—it was all purple. The bar, the clothes people wore, the stage even—everything—purple. Smoke filled the air, like an erupted volcano. And compared to the air outside, the air inside was as humid as it could be on a Texas summer day. It had all become unbearable. And to add, from what William could barely see, a good ninety percent of the people in the room were nicotine addicts, presumably, but, of course, this was his assumption not mine. William coughed and then waived his hand in the air for safe passage. His vision was much clearer, and less smoky now. He pulled his watch up to his mouth and then spoke to the code inside of it.

“Hey… Sariah… Where are we?” he asked, concerned.
“We are at the Purple Down. It’s an underground club. Mostly filled with thugs, drug dealers, and prostitutes,” replied the code. “But don’t worry. No one will try anything, yet.”

William swallowed, and it was rough going down. He had no idea what he was getting himself into. He needed the bar. He needed a drink. So, he’d made his way over. As he walked across the floor, eyes pierced to the sides and the back of his head. It was apparent that he wasn’t wanted there. But he was there on personal business, and to him, it was the only reason that he needed, more so, it was none of their concern, he’d told himself.

“I’ll take a Mojitos,” said William, sharply staring the bartender in the eyes, to show everyone that he was no one’s bitch.

The bartender then gave an annoyed grin. She was tall, and taller than most of the men in the room. She had short dark hair—a little on the top and a little off the sides. Her arms were the size of both of Williams thighs combined, sadly. But out of all that might’ve been intimidating about her, her eyes were something else. They were crystal grey. Almost as if you could see through them. Yes, translucent, that’s the word. They were translucently grey.

“I don’t do Mojitos,” said the bartender, frustratingly. “This ain’t that kind of bar. But I got some creamer in the fridge for you. Maybe that’ll supplement for the milk you’re probably qwa, qwa, qwaa, qwaving.”

All the men and women in the bar started laughing, so hard that some were now on the floor—they tossed and turned. However, Williams eyes remained locked onto the bartenders. He said nothing and smiled confidently. Although, the bartender could tell a bluff of confidence when she saw one.

“Hey!” she yelled, waiving her hand in Williams face. “You gonna take a picture or are you gonna take a shot of what I just poured ya. And don’t even think about stiffing me on a tip or you’ll end up like the poor bastard over there.”

William looked to his right. And just the sight of the man alone was enough to bring him back to reality. It gave him the chills, undoubtedly. The man was all busted up—pants torn, shirt torn, one eye closed, with a note darted to his chest, no his nipple, that said, I GOT STIFFED. William swallowed again, and then swallowed for the third time right after, but this time chasing down the glass the bartender had placed in front of him.

“Did you by chance see the two men come by here?” asked William, sternly. “One with a banana colored suit and the other with a tailored suit.”

The bartender then turned her back, pretending to wash what looked like already cleaned glasses. For whatever reason she was nervous. And the sweat on the back of her neck would say it so. Chairs then slid back on the wooden floor William stood on. And the sound of boots clinked and clacked against it no different than how a tap dancer would. The closer they’d gotten, the louder.

“Careful William,” said the code. “There are five men behind you. Three with butter knives, one with a pool stick and the other with a gun.”

William stared at his empty glass, rolling it back and forward in his hand. In it, he could see the reflection of the five men the code had just described. Butter knifes came to mind, and for a moment he chuckled, but then his survival instinct reminded him of the thing he should’ve been worried about—GUN, said the angel on his right shoulder. Although, the devil on his left said, “Fuck em, your like Keanu Reeves, you can dodge it if he shoots.” But oh, how wrong the little devil was.

“Sariah, help…” Whispered William, pleading for safety.

One of the men then tapped William on the shoulder.

“So, you’re the one that’s been following our boss?” said the man. “He don’t like that. He don’t like rats. And my friend, you are in the wrong race.”

William turned around slowly. He looked down. The man was smaller than the bartender, smaller than most in the room, but the aura that was given from him was not one to take lightly. William responded.

“Fellas, fellas, calm down… I-I’m here like you just tryna get a drink, maybe even tickle my whistle a bit, if ya catch my drift.”

The five men then stared at one another, dazed and confused. They weren’t what any would call the brightest bunch. Yet, they all stood there, scratching the dandruff from their scalps onto the floor, deciding on rather William was telling the truth or not.

“Well!” yelled the man, with the gun, slowly edging himself forward. “That ain’t what I heard, little bird. You see, word on the street is that you’ve been stalking our bosses. And I don’t know about the rest of the dimwits here, but I ain’t buying your shit. Not for one second my friend.”

The man with the gun was about the same height as William. Five eight, or maybe five nine. Who knows?

“No… It’s not like,” stopped William.
“Clear the room everyone!” yelled the man, with the gun. “We’re about to have ourselves a little showdown.”
“Did someone say hoedown,” laughed a man, from deep dark corner.
“Oh, fuck off already Victor!” yelled a woman. “A gerbil would have a better chance getting it up than you!”

The whole club then let up like fireworks with the insults that had been thrown back and forward. Still, the man with the gun wasn’t laughing. And neither was William.

“Shut up!” yelled again, the man with the gun. “Everyone shut! Up! Were about to dance!”

The whole room had gotten quiet. Chairs and tables were moved to the corners of the room—everyone had spread out. At the bar, it was just William and the man with gun now.

“I ain’t gonna need this,” said the man, putting his gun on the floor and kicking it over to one of his comrades. “Besides, it been a while since I’ve had a good fight. Although I’m pretty sure this will be a quick one.”

The man cracked his knuckles and took his stance. He slowly grooved himself forward.

“Sariah, what the hell,” William urged.

The man then cocked back his fist and through his first punch, but before it made contact with Williams face, everything would go black.

“Hey what happened to the lights!” yelled the man.

Glass shattered in the background. Women screamed, even the men, who seemed like they were getting the worst of it all. William could feel a gush wind flow in front him. It was fast.

“Okay… Its good now Sariah, you can cut the lights back on,” William said.
“But William… I didn’t do that,” said the code.

William then felt something warm on the back of his neck. Someone’s breath—someone behind him. But who? Images of channel 2 news started to fly across his mind like a motion picture. And all that William could think about was how it would all look—African American, middle age coder shanked in the back with a butter knife, at an underground titty bar of all places. His mother would be so proud, he told himself, humorously. The lights then came back on. It was odd. William could’ve sworn he’d heard bodies fall to the ground, but there were none. Literally, there was no one in the room. And the floor was, in fact, squeaky clean, as if it had been polished. The person behind then tapped on his shoulder.

“Hey, lets go,” they said. “I’ll explain everything to you later, but we need to get going before more show up.”

William turned around, slowly. It was the bartender. But she wasn’t in her work clothes anymore. She somewhat looked like a ninja, but they were a long way from Japan. It just wasn’t fitting. But again, who knows? Especially, in the day and age that they were in.

“What happened to everyone?” asked William.

The bartender smiled. And shook her head. “Really… out of what I just saved you from, you’re really worried about that?”

She grabbed Williams arm and pulled him out of the club. It didn’t feel like he’d been in there that long, but it was dark now. The homeless man still slept in the alley, although, by now William was for certain that he was dead. No one slept that long, not even a drug addict. They made a right, and then another right, entering in what looked to be an abandoned bakery.

“Where are we going?” William asked. “I don’t even know your name…”

The bartender was quiet. She let go of Williams arm and scoped out the place.

“Who are you?” asked William, but this time he’d asked the code.
“It is unknown. She has no records. I believe she was an orphaned child. However, I cannot confirm how she is tied with the Koroshimasu.”
“What the hell is a Kromasew?”
“It’s Koroshimasu. They are a ninja clan. Well… an underground ninja clan. Its been years since there have been records of them. Until now that is.”
“Oh my god! I fuckin knew it!”

The bartender turned around fast. “Who are you talking to? We can’t have contact, or we’ll be found. We gotta lay low. Give me your phone.”

William pulled out his phone hesitantly and the bartender snatched it from him. She threw it against the wall, and well… that was pretty much the end of it. William cringed. But if anything, he still had his watch, which she didn’t know much about. William swallowed as he’d always done when all hell was breaking loose. He thought about the two men in the suits. He thought about the guys that all much jumped him for pursuing the men in the suits. And then he thought about the suspicious bartender who was supposedly part of a ninja clan.

“What the fuck…” he whispered. “Did I get myself into…”


Thank you all for reading! And if you have time please go check out the artist for the phenomenal artwork tied to it, his name is Russ Mills @ byroglyphics.com. He has twenty years of experience at what he does and I highly recommend you follow him, especially if your an upcoming artist looking for a little inspiration. 



April 7th, 2019 by P. Starks


The smell of rain was in the air, as well the oil that had been embedded in the ground from all the heavy traffic. From all the buildings that had been built within the last two years there would hardly be enough room for cars on the street, yet, many still managed. Most had decided riding buses would be the best option, to escape the predicament of being delayed by others throughout their day, a few had argued. However, not even that was all that reliable seeing how the buses either pulled away too early, or always found themselves late for time. They were unpredictable. Cranberry, Nottitown was, in fact, a crowded city, but… it was a city were dreams became realities.

Williams William was just child when he’d gotten exposed to the city life, more so, the fruits of its labor it had normally delivered—computers, cellphones, videogame consoles and more. And at ten and a half years of age William would be given his first computer, the Pixie Square. And yes, it was square. It was solid white, bulky, and such that it was almost as heavy as the weights his dad had set up in their home garage. Although, his dad, never liked to admit that it was.

But it had all felt natural to William, the computer that is. He’d been working on it as if he’d been on the planet long before his parent’s, parents had.  The computer did everything he wanted it to do, anything he told it to, but longevity wasn’t its strong suit from what was said in its customer reviews. William had only gotten a year out of it, but still, he made more out of it than what most would do in their lifetime. He was that talented of a kid.

Not long after his early years, William would already have won multiple awards for his extraordinary coding abilities, the judges of the T.A(Technological Advancement) Awards had cheered. But it wasn’t enough. At least not enough for him. He’d watch many before him accomplish so much, and still, they were at the top reaping in all the benefits that came with it. Of course, knocking them off the pedestal wasn’t what he wanted. If anything, he just wanted to be at the top with them. However, if knocking them off was what was required to being at the top, he wouldn’t be afraid to make that decision either.

But on the rainiest of days, William was now at his favorite coffee shop, “Drinking Beans.” He now had dark hair with a pinch of grey, to show that he was aging. Although, his facial hair had shot him up ten years more than what he’d liked to admit. Like father like son. He was casually dressed, the normal t-shirts and jeans, but wore dress shoes that he argued to his co-workers at Metric Tunic, was more casual than tennis shoes.

William was on the brink of discovering the first ever code to process on its own. Like, artificial intelligence but literally its own organism in a sense. He’d been working on it for years and was seconds away from finalizing what many of his fellow coders thought was impossible. And… Indeed, he’d finished it on his last sip of coffee, that of which tasted as burnt as a marshmallow at a campfire.

Nevertheless, as great as the moment was for him, William had had hard time celebrating. For the time that he had been there, he couldn’t help but tune into the conversation of the men from behind him. He had had on his headphones the entire time, but little did the men know that the right earbud had been broken for at least a week and a half. Although he couldn’t understand their language either, so, it they were safe either way. But still, William could somehow feel the intensity from their talk. It was an unusual conversation—one that would probably get you killed if ever caught listening, he swallowed.  On the screen of his brand-new Surface Pro 6, he could see the two men’s reflection. Business men, presumably, from the way they were dressed. One wearing a tailored suit and the other, well… Business attired in his own unique way, for he’d worn the brightest colors a man could wear for the winter. Tt was obvious that he wasn’t a local. Not a fraction of him was. But for a city, this wasn’t all that suspicious to William. It was just the conversation alone.

It was the perfect time to test out his new code.

“Sariah translate the conversation from the men behind me,” he whispered to his computer.

Williams screen then flickered from bright to all black, and white lettering tackled across it, as if a screenplay were being written.


“Yeah. I heard that they were going to get five-hundred mill for getting the job done. I mean, come on Frank, we can do that job in our sleep. That’s our money. We just gotta let the boss in on it,” said the man with the bright colored suit.

The man in the tailored suit then smiled and rubbed is well-groomed beard. He took a sip of his coffee and leaned forward.

“Alright,” he said. “But we can’t tell the boss man. Out of the question. You know he’ll never let us do this mission. He’ll just send out his butt-boys Tom and Hank instead.”


“But… Are you sure this is a good idea?” said the man in the tailored suit, concerned. “I mean… You know this could mean the end of the country?”

“Yeah, but what does it matter to us? We got nothing to lose. Plus, by the time that happens we’ll be somewhere on the opposite side of the planet, sipping on mojitos, eating sushi off of a naked woman. Live a little! Don’t you bitch out on me now Frank. Don’t you do it”

“Okay, okay… When do we start?”

“Tonight. By the pier, on West pine and grove. At least that’s what the little birdie told me.”

“Right mate… well lets just make sure your little birdie is valid. Anymore screw ups and you know boss will have our heads for this.”

The two men then got up and walked away from the table. William was left in awe. He couldn’t believe what he’d just heard, no, read. Should I call the cops? Said the voice in his head.

“No, this is the chance for me to show the world what Sariah can do,” he said.

William closed his laptop and threw his empty cup of coffee in the recycle bin. The doors opened. He was now amongst the horde of people that paraded the streets. He needed to hurry back home right away. And as smart as he was, thankfully, he’d installed Sariah in his watch. He pulled it up to his face.

“Sariah. Red light, green light, one, two, three,” he said.

Successfully the crosswalk would turn green, but unfortunately it wouldn’t be the only light to turn green. There was now a car pileup. Horns honked and smoke spewed from indented bumpers.

“Ahh Shit!” yelled a man. “I’m hurt..”

William recognized him. It was the same tailored suit individual he’d heard plotting what he felt would be the end of the word, more so, a terrorist attack. Out of the car came the brightly colored suited man as well. He had a nervous look in his eye. So, he took off down the street and had gone through a vacant alley way with graffiti along the walls by god knows how many gangs. The tailored suited man followed.

Urgent for time, William followed the men. There was no time to go back home. He went down the alley way. There was an old man in a sleeping bag to the left of him. Little did William know that he was awake. As William had passed him, out of nowhere, the old man yelled at the top of his lungs.

“Ahhhhhh! Who let the duck shit in my shoes,” he yelled.

William jumped a little. And picked up his pace. He was halfway through the alley way now, but before making it to the end bumped into a woman, that looked to be in her early thirties. She wore a short skirt, heels that gave her more girth around the hips. Her lips wore cherry read and her eyes gorgeous with eye lashes surrounding them that were as big as a camel’s.

“What ya looking at?” said the woman, wiping herself off with the baby wipes from her mid-sized purse.

William said nothing.

“Oh, a shy one aye…” said the woman. “Well… for you sweetie, I’ll only charge ya seventy-five if you don’t cry in the middle of it like the last chump. Ya know, some of you men are build to be so damn sensitive nowadays. What happen to the Leonidas’s of the world? huh…”

William chuckled. “I’m sorry maybe… Another time…” he said.

“Pussy,” said the woman.

“Okay… Anyways, did you by chance see a man in a loud suit and one in a tailored?”

“Yeah! It’s the same crybaby I was just talking to you about. The banana suited one. Such a shame… To be a thug, he sure is in the wrong line of work. But if you must know, the pussy went that way, with his little friend” pointed the woman.

To the right of the corner was a purple door. William had never seen anything like it. It was like something out of Alice in wonderland. He turned back to the woman to ask her one more question, but she had vanished.

“Sariah. What’s behind the door?” asked William.

“Your destiny,” she said.

Williams mind then wondered around the question, but still, he couldn’t grasp what the code had meant by it.

“W-what do you mean Sariah? Give me more details.”

“I unfortunately cannot tell you that, for the future is nothing to play with. Be careful what you seek or what is sought will seek you. Be careful what you desire for the desire will require something out of you that you will seize to fail.”

“Okay… but tell me, will I die if I go through that door? I don’t understand.”

There was silence. For once the code didn’t answer. Nevertheless, William had thought about all that he’d done to get to that very moment. To show the world that a middle-aged coder could still accomplish his childhood dreams. It was destiny, he convinced himself. Anxiety ran through his spine. He was excited and nervous all in one.

Without any further thoughts, William had walked through the purple door.




Nightwell Keep

January 20th, 2019 by Patrick Starks

nightwell keep

Waterfalls plummeted down like ink from a wet canvas. The trees danced with the wind, and the grass that sprouted from the ground made everything within its midst appreciate the true meaning behind a breath of fresh air. All about the wildlife was beautiful and refreshing, some say like a painting from DaVinci himself. No doubt about it, Kazu was a place of magic, however, many scientists disagreed with this notion for nothing of the sort existed, at least not to them. Sere fairytales or it’s all in our heads, some of them would say. But at the end, out of all they disagreed with, there would be Trey Tomkinson to prove them wrong.

Mrs. Tomkinson, Trey’s mother, of course, disapproved of the whole thing.  Any mother would towards a fifteen-year-old, especially an adventurous, gullible boy like himself, Trey that being. But Mr. Tomkinson, on the other hand, felt differently about the situation, felt it be good for him.

It’ll put some hair on his b… I mean… It’ll turn em into a fine young man,” he said, holding his smile as best he could.

Mrs. Tomkinson would then stare at Mr. Tomkinson with poised eyes as if she were trying to find a message within a bottle. Luckily for Trey, his father was a perfectionist at persuasion. And it wouldn’t be a surprise being the car salesman that he was.

“Trey did you get all your things!” yelled Mrs. Tomkinson, voice carrying up the stairs and underneath the crevice of the bathroom door like smoke.

Trey’s ears tingled to the call of his mother. He’d just jumped out of the shower just moments prior, and nothing but a  Marvel towel remained wrapped around him, with a toothbrush lodged in the side of his mouth. Coming, he mumbled.

Sooner or later, Trey would run down the stairs with so much as a backpack around his shoulder and one leg through his denim jeans. He was excited, although, not quite prepared for the day it seemed.

“Boy. I know you don’t plan on going out there like that,” said Mrs. Tomkinson.

“You see that right there, that’s what I’m talking about. I swear these boys nowadays don’t know the definition of a belt,” said Mr. Tomkinson, pulling his pants up over his belly button. “Tuck your shirt in boy.”

Trey then chuckled and shrugged, to the sounds of his father’s belly popping a button. Unlike the boys at his school, Trey was a lot smarter than what he’d let off. And both Mrs. And Mr. Tomkinson knew that, more so, his teachers who always urged him to enter into the competitions that they knew would bring them credibility knew that—self-interest at its finest.  He had beaten a few college students already in the arts of smarts. Some from prominent schools like Harvard and UCLA. And doing so would get him just the adventure he’d long for. Or then again, maybe he had signed up for more than what he had asked for, he pondered. Nevertheless, he was prepared to prove the world wrong, no matter what dangers would come his way. And Mrs. Tomkinson… Well, let’s just say she obviously wasn’t for it, but they’d struggled enough already. From eviction to eviction, to nearly being homeless, whatever the stake, Trey was on the verge of either changing their lives for the better or putting them out of their own misery, and that was just the thing Mrs. Tomkinson would be told from her Mr. Tomkinson. They had nothing to lose at this point.

As the day had gone on, it would be nearly noon, Pacific time. Trey and his parents were now on the Delta flight to South Africa. Trey curled and squirmed in between Mr. and Mrs. Tomkinson, holding on for dear life, holding on to his soul, in fact, that was trying to run away from him. He had never been on flights before and it wouldn’t be long before he’d realize that heights weren’t his strong suit.

Mr. Tomkinson was already night, night for the flight—seven small bottles of Jim Bean sitting in front of him like an ashtray of cigarettes. All while Mrs. Tomkinson who gawked at the young flight attendant that reminded her of the husband she used to have—the young man had a chiseled body like the sculpture of David, smile whiter than the paper plate that sat in front of her, and well-groomed hair that went everywhere, like Michael J. Fox in Teen Wolf, when he was a werewolf. But all that was left now was an alcohol-filled belly, the scent of Old Spice, and a receding hairline that was running away from its owner faster than Trey’s soul. And the saying goes; beauty fades over time, but Mrs. Tomkinson wasn’t doing so good herself as the wrinkles she hid around her neck were now beginning to be a little more noticeable as the years went on.

“Mam are you cold,” ask the young flight attendant. “I see you got your scarf around your neck still. We could possibly turn the heat up a little if that’ll help.”

Mrs. Tomkinson just smiled and nodded, for she did not want to reveal her age, physically. Still, out of all that has been said, Mrs. Tomkinson loved Mr. Tomkinson dearly. The plane had finally landed. And all who could splurge out of the only exit way like a herd of wildebeest.  Everyone had longed for a standing ovation. Not for the pilot but for their legs that had been so patient, jokingly.

“Trey! Mrs. Tomkinson! Mr. Tomkinson!” yelled a man. “You made it!”

The man was tall. Beard like a schnauzer but eyes like a snake. It was no secret to anyone that he was the man they were to meet. Tan shirt, khaki pants, no, shorts to be exact, and a hat that sat on his head better than a pat.

“Is this really the man we want to leave our little boy with,” whispered Mrs. Tomkinson.

“Yeah. Well… I don’t know. Just smile honey. And let’s hear the man out,” replied Mr. Tomkinson.

The man would then grab their luggage and guide them all to the front of the airport where they could catch a cab. They, meaning just him and Trey, unfortunately. Although it had already been discussed over the phone, Mrs. Tomkinson still felt that she and Mr. Tomkinson should stay at least for a few days until things had gotten settled. But again, she was persuaded by the master himself, Mr. Tomkinson, number one salesman in the city of Seattle, previously, two thousand and eight, but not currently, sadly.

“Oh, where are my manners. My name is Professor Pudding. It’s such an honor to meet the parents behind the genius himself. I honestly can’t even believe that he’s fifteen. Your fifteen, look at you! Remarkable!”

Mrs. Tomkinson grabbed Trey’s hand and pulled him behind still unsure of the whole thing. She had never even let him even spend the night over at a friend’s house. But here it was she was leaving her little boy in a place they knew nothing about, and for a whole year.

A car pulled up. And smoke spewed from its exhaust pipes like a nicotine addict. But thankfully it was a windy day. The car was yellow like mustard and rusted as if ketchup was mixed in with it a little. And just the thought made everyone’s stomach growl for the everything on the plane that they tried was as stale as a taco shell that had been left out for a week.

“Are you all getting in or not,” yelled a woman.

“You’re a cab driver?” Professor Pudding questioned.

“Yeah. What of it? Are you getting in or not? I don’t have all day safari boy”

The woman’s hair was no shorter than Treys or Mr. Tomkinson. Her eyes were hazel, matching the blonde coffee she’d pulled up to her marshmallow lips. Professor Pudding now looked confused just as Mrs. Tomkinson once did. He was attracted to the woman but also very intimidated all in one.

“Uhm… Yes. Yes, we’re getting in,” he said, sweat pouring down his forehead as if he’d just ran a marathon.

While Professor Pudding loaded the cab, Trey turned back to say goodbye to both Mr. and Mrs. Tomkinson. Tears were exchanged. And as much as he was excited to unravel the secrets of magic, being a year away from his mother or his father was something that Trey still felt was a tough pill to swallow. Mrs. Tomkinson clinched onto Trey one last time.

“This isn’t goodbye… You call us sweetie if anything goes wrong okay. We will be here like that,” said Mrs. Tomkinson, snapping her fingers to the wind.

Trey nodded and before he’d realized it, he was all alone, and amongst nothing but strangers.

“So, where you two headed?” asked the cab driver, with her eyes reflecting off of the rearview mirror.

“Well… Where going on… No. I probably should be quiet about the whole thing until we arrive,” hesitated Professor Pudding.
“Well if you ask me, you’re coming off as quite the pedophile, ya know. I mean, a young American boy in South Africa of all places with a fifty-year-old man who he just met. I’m sorry but…”

“Excuse me! But first of all, I’m thirty-three, and second, you have no idea what we are on the verge of discovering.”

“Yeah I’m sure that boy doesn’t realize it either,” said the woman sarcastically. “Say, boy, what’s your name?”


“Shh… Don’t be saying your name around her. She might be… Um… We don’t want to cause any attention to ourselves you see. If the locals knew who you were they would probably…”

“Probably what?” asked Trey.

“N-nevermind. Look. We’re here. Sir, I mean, mam if you could please,” chuckled Professor Pudding.

“Yeah like I haven’t heard that one before,” replied the woman.

The cab then pulled around the corner to a neighborhood. It wasn’t quite the luxury motel Trey had been expecting.

“Come. I’ll introduce you to the rest of the kids,” said Professor Pudding.

“Ugh. Hmm. That’ll be seventy-three-twenty-three,” said the woman.

“Your joking… I’m not paying that.”

“Well, it looks like I’m going in with you guys then until I get my payment of course. Besides, it’ll be nice to see what kind of perverted setup you got running here. Probably should have the cops on speed dial just in case.”

“Oh go to…”

“What is this place?” pointed Trey.

It was a castle of some sort. Or at least what Trey thought it to be. Grey all over. And narrow at the top where it pointed towards the golden skies like a spaceship.

“That my boy is the place we will be staying, your new home. Welcome to Nightwell Keep,” said Professor Pudding.

When they walked in the smell was the first thing Trey had noticed. It was something he’d studied or had done a research paper on at some point.

“Is that?”

“Yes. It is the Pelargoniums your smelling,” said a voice.

“Who, who’s there?” yelled Trey.

To his right, Professor Pudding then walked over to a garden of pink and purple flowers, and in the middle of them, all lied one that was as big as his head.

“I told you to be quiet when we arrived. I asked you just ten minutes, just ten freakin’ minutes, and still, you find a way to run your big fat mouth. Christ… you’re going to scare him off. Don’t forget that he is the key,” whispered Professor Pudding aggressively.

The woman who had entered with them had a blank expression on her face. And her phone had already been pulled from her pocket, and ready for speed dial.

“Umm… Hey kid… You sure you want to be here with this man…” she said, on hold to the South African Police.

Trey nodded.

“Sorry about that, where were we. Right, let me show you to your room. We will have a long day ahead of us tomorrow. No telling what we’ll find in Kazu,” said Professor Pudding. “Sir, will you be staying with us for the night.”

“Haha. Yeah. Just don’t try anything funny ya pervert,” said the woman, tucking her phone back in her back pocket. “And the name is Oshay, Karma Oshay.”

Professor Pudding then guided them up the stairs to Trey’s room. Pictures were all over the walls, most of Professor Pudding himself and his adventures, and his discoveries. Karma would roll her eyes to the sight. Conceded are we, she whispered, elbowing Trey. Trey chuckled.

“Ah. Here we are, home sweet home my friend. Be sure to get a good nights rest will you. I mean it, tomorrow will be a long journey and quite the hike from what I’ve been told. And for you… Karma was it? Will the couch downstairs be good for you?” said Professor Pudding, with the smile of an orangutan.

Karma smiled back, but the only difference was her smile was a lot more pleasant to Trey than what he had just seen from Professor Pudding.  I should as her out, no, I should tell her how beautiful she is, no, you are the sun and I… no, no, no, no, get it together Tomkinson, he babbled.

“You mean that couch that looked like it had just been pulled out of a dumpster. Yeah, no thank you, but I’ll stay with the boy,” said Karma

Trey’s heart began to jump a beat. He’d never spent the night with anyone, let alone a girl, more so, a woman that he was to love blind to realize.

“That’ll be fine…” hesitated Professor Pudding. “I guess…”
“What about the rest of the kids,” asked Trey.

“Oh right, well there all probably tucked in for tonight. And I don’t want to startle them so late with two new face’s. We’ll have a meet and greet in the morning. Pinky swear it,” replied Professor Pudding, with his pinky out towards Trey.

Trey’s pinky then wrapped around Professor Puddings. Right, he said.

 “Alright then, night, night Trey. And sir, I mean, mam, sleep tight will you,” laughed Professor Pudding on his way out.

Little did Karma know, Professor Puddings heart was pounding in excitement behind the door. What a woman, so beautiful, so strong, he said.

 Not long after both Trey and Karma would be asleep. And when they’d awaken they would be given a whole new perspective about what life truly was. After all, they were in Nightwell Keep.

FOR MORE PACHARC STORIES: Please click on the book tab and it will take you to Amazon.com. There the first volume of Pacharc will be obtainable for just $0.99, and if you have kindle unlimited it will be for free 🙂 

Happy Readings my friends!