His gun is carefully sitting beside him as he drives just in front of Wilson Avenue, a few blocks away from the Mansion and the exact point where Laurel resurfaced. He steps down, observing the camera positioned at the rear end of the street. Walking down the street, he observes every building.
He hears the bleating of goats and whistling of the wind as they brush against dry leaves. The ground is a sticker and Sebastian is sure he stepped on animal waste. Fuck.
He arrives in front of an old house and roof made of palm fronds and striding farther, the blasting of
Curiosity:The sad thing about it is the mesmerizing urge. The interminable doubt and the cast-iron certainty that only the truth brings peace. Only the truth can save the mind from cluttering into an entanglement and wrapping itself into the foils and claws of a mystery. Only the truth will unravel the mind which has become a slave to the hidden things.Another sad thing is that the mind is unable to acknowledge the red lights that shine its path. It seeks what doesn’t seek it and even then, when it knows to turn back, it is fueled by rebellion to keep up till the truth unravels. But the truth is not always what is expected.The truth. Is that even a thing or just the phrase that keeps Sebastian late out this night, driving back home to his sleeping daughter and wife. He shuts his eyes and the only words that registers are;“Are yo
They say when trouble is near the wind becomes thick and the people we walk by always wear the masks of sadness. When we run and trouble rings, our pace quickens and we have somehow connected the dots in our subconscious but is yet to receive the news, even then, we feel the trouble in our chest heaving with every beat the heart makes and the sweat pouring out our skin pores retain the fragrance of fatigue.Laurel Brown is running back home, her pace just a little faster than the normal jog. Her sky blue sleeveless shirt is pressing against her padded breast and a folded black hair is swinging behind her as each foot leaves and bounces on a different spot. She is oblivious of her surrounding, oblivious of the man in a ragged clothe and barefooted screaming at the top of his voice. Words that have no meaning, if they are to be considered words.She doesn’t notice the lady stru
The air is thick, almost like it is made from a double sheeted metal, fogging a clear thought flowing through her brain. The walls seem like they are her only refuge but they seem miles away, continually fading into the distance. She closes her eyes, counting her breath before the anxiety takes full control. One, two, three.“State your name for the record.” Sebastian’s words disrupt her practice.She doesn’t say a word or even acknowledges his words. She wraps her hand tightly against her black purse, casing the handle on her clenched fist. Her feet are tensed and she can feel the relaxation in his eyes – the relaxation that causes her to wonder what he knows—what he thinks he knows.“Fine, Laurel Brown.” Sebastian bends to scribble some words on a journal before raising his head to meet her gaze again. He falls back
Twelve Years ago:It is a Monday evening and a lovely one. The sun is setting amidst the bright, gold clouds and its influence spreads amongst them like shiny pigments of beautiful rays. The wind is calm and soft as though the previous day had not brought stormy and terrifying weather with roaring thunderbolts and chilling, brightened light quakes.Sophie and Laurel are walking down the road back home from school. The school is only a few streets away and since the car is still undergoing maintenance and repairs, Sophie had opted to pick Laurel rather than waiting for Michael to drive back from the farm.She had worn faded blue jeans and a transparent top with a jacket to give her some modesty. Sophie is always conscious of what she exposes to people and although everybody knows and loves them, one can only be careful enough not to be
The sad thing about numbness is not the trembling hands nor the total loss of control of one’s own body, almost like they are another entity habiting an oversized body. It is neither the inability to keep one’s feet steady on the floor that slowly fades away nor the incessant buzzing ring inside their ears, or the sweat streaming down their face. The problem with numbness is the rushing that comes just immediately after – the forceful rush of adrenaline invading every part of the body and the sudden hypersensitivity from zero to above hundred.
“It is just that I was wondering if I could get a job in your firm.”Laurel stares into his eyes as the words escape her lips with no accident, every word precisely where she wants them to be. She lets her lip fall just slightly open but not obvious to the eyes. The
Sometimes the things we lose are the things we value the most—the persons we value the most. Side effects of an act done in a moment of weakness but while we blame ourselves, we still hope things had turned out differently. And just as we wish to turn back the hands of the clock and do it right, things don't always go the way we want them to. A way of saying, we are not God.
“Laurel, welcome. You look even more ravishing than when I first saw you.” Malcolm scrutinizes her. Laurel is used to this kind of gaze so she doesn't feel conscious of her body, instead, she is washed with more confidence as she knows she had the man just where she wants him, his eyes devouring her body and no doubt ripping the white office top and black body con skirt off her body.
Sebastian stands in front of what used to be Agent Hannah. Her charismatic presence now a swollen pale body with blue lips washed up by the side of a river.Her eyes, now an empty vacuum, hollow to show the presence of her missing eye balls. Sebastian closes his eyes first, trying to evade the sight that lays in
The sun blares against the glass wall sending a dim ray into the cafeteria that sits on the side of the road. From the end of the road, one can see inside the building at the table just beside the wall and two people sitting on the same side of the table.The man wears a white top and brown trousers. He leans fur
Sebastian feels a new surge of energy. The truth has its way of coming out the light, that is sure of. His vision might not be what he used to be, and he is coming to realize that sometimes, black isn't really black and white isn't really white. He presses through the night back to Bushkill with two things in his mind. One: he had given the pompous bastards things to ponder about. Two: He knows betrayal well enough to get Laurel to open her bowels.
One year agoEleven years ago, Laurel would never have seen her life to take this turn. A life of crimes and violence, being a survivor and striving to live the next day.
Sebastian stares at the once quiet hut where he had just had a conversation with his newly found favorite old couple. A love he wonders if he would ever have such opportunities with Maria anymore or their story had reached its end that day.The truth of what Maria had said begins to hit him. It is more of a redem
Five Years ago“No. Please No.” Laurel pulls away from the man with all the strength left inside her but nothing she does seems to get her out of his grip.
Truth has taste. A distinctive kind of taste that fills the air and telling you that you are on the right path and about to uncover something hidden, about to pull to the light, something unseen but what happens when the air is tastes like water and the force which it brushes through your skin is nothing but soothing? What happens when you ride down the road to a town you’ve barely been to and against your legal rights as a law enforcer but still, you ride blind, leading with nothing but the words of a prostitute and your hunch.
The sun burns through the sky in its full glory, scorching its way through the skins of the people gathered out in the cemetery. The wind howls carefully, soothing their skins in opposition to the effect of the sun as they stood in all blacks waiting for the young dark-haired girl to finish her speech.Sadness fi
“What? I am getting dropped from the case?” Sebastian presses his lips on a hard line. The words escaping the chief’s mouth feels like a razor piercing through tender tissues of Sebastian’s heart living him drenched in a pool of his own blood. Except there is no blood or any razor, just the vengeance of a hurt double officer.