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2024-10-29 19:42:56I-SHIRLEY
CHAPTER 18Ackermann stood in front of Martha and Michael, with the knife still in his hands and a tear-dripping face. Michael had locked himself in his mother's arms as they both stared dead at Ackermann. The Angel of death stood and watched the show from a distance. He had spat to Ackermann how he'd get out the never-ending nightmare, and that way was the only way to go out. "All you have to do to get out of this is quite simple actually. I said that would not work earlier, but scratch that. I make the rules here and I can change them as much as I see fit. You claim these two are not real, you claim they are long dead. So if they are already dead and not real, there wouldn't be any problem with slitting their throats and gutting them limb from limb right? After all that was what you brought the knife for, right?"Ackermann knew he was a complete monster for even considering to do the bidding of the Angel of death, even if they are not real, butRelated chapters
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I-SHIRLEYCHAPTER 19Chief Tador took a better look around and saw the Angel of Death's writing on the wall; "I am the angel of death, and this is my design." And then below it, "My work is almost done!" Chief Tador's eyes opened wide for a few moments, and then he smiled in an irritating smug. Azriel spotted the Chief's smirk from a mile away and approached him. "I didn't know you were already awake, and you seem almost excited about something. You just woke up from a weird deep sleep, and you are not freaking out…?" said Azriel.Chief Tador's upper eyelid raised, and the lower lid drew down, which exposed the white sclera above and below his iris. "Huh…? Are you a mind reader…." The man didn't even realize the devilish smile he had put on his face. He might have thought he was smiling in his head.Chief Tador turned his eyes away from Azriel and looked back at the writing in blood on the wall. "He said he's almost done?" asked Tador.
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I-SHIRLEYCHAPTER 20“Yeah -- it’s tonight. I’ll be on the plane right after.”“Oh ok
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Azriel wiped off the steam from the mirrors. She looked into her eyes through the reflection for a while. "This is it... Tonight is the night!" She said to herself. She didnt know what she was going to find out; she didnt even know what to expect. "I'll disclose the identity of this "Angel of Death" to the world."Azriel sighed."Why do i get the feeling something bad is going to happen...? According to him, the angel of death wouldn't attack him no matter what, because he has a list, and he doesn't kill for fun.Well, I guess that should be reassuring..." Azriel thought."Now, what to wear."Azriel opened her traveling bag and turned it upside down - emptying it. She spread the dress apart and looked at each of them closely. "Red, black, summer green... which is which?" She put her index finger on her pointy nose and thought for a while."Black!" She finally decided.Azriel didn't take longer than half an hour to dress up. She closed her eyes once her hands felt the coldness of the me
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“Rebekah might have sleepwalked or whatever, but she ends up waking up in the middle of the woods, confused on how the hell she’d gotten there. The howls of the wolves in the woods woke her up. She sits up and breathes heavily, as if she had just escaped from someone who almost strangled her to death, or she just came out from the bottom of a river that tried to swallow and suffocate her.She coughed violently, but after that the tension in her breath and the pounding of her heart had reduced. After moments of taking care of herself not to cough out her heart or get a heart attack, she finally noticed the environment. All her efforts of relaxing herself went straight into the bin, because where she found herself gave her more fright than what startled her in her sleep. She looked down at her dress and saw what she was wearing; It didn’t belong to her, neither did she recall any memory of her putting it on. It was a sleeveless overall dress which looked even blacker and darker than a n
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I-SHIRLEY 23 A deep passionate kiss woke Shirley up from sleep. She opened her eyes slowly, and the first thing she saw was Gehrig’s blurry face, smiling down at her. “Good morning, babe –” He greeted and planted another kiss on her lips. Shirley smiled. “Hi…” She said as she sent her hands over her face to caress her eyes. “Wait…” Shirley sniffled jokingly. “Is that –” “Yes, it is…” Gehrig interrupted. “ Oh my… I haven’t had that in like forever! No actually, I haven’t had a good breakfast in months… Years even.” Gehrig chuckled lightly. “I’m aware, honey.” “Well, what am I waiting for then?” “Exactly my thought…” Gehrig grabbed her hands and helped her off the bed. Breakfast was soft pancakes and berries, as warm as they would be in the sun, maple syrup threaded upon the top, with a glass of cold orange juice at the side. Shirley dug in, the moment her butt landed on the chair. She closed her eyes and moaned slightly when the pancake came into contact with
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i-shirley24Shirley parked her car a few meters from the crime scene and just looked. She knew everyone was waiting for her to throw more light on what had happened; the local police waiting to wrap everything up, the corona was waiting to transport the body for an autopsy, and the press waiting impatiently to get the story or a statement at the very least. The press might have been the reason she got held up in the car, but that wasn’t all. She couldn’t get herself to walk in the building and look at the bloody scene. The angel of death had a habit of making every subsequent murder more unbearable than the previous one. They thought killing a baby was the last line the bastard would, but no, he showed them he had no lines to cross; he did everything and anything he felt like doing.Shirley sighed when she realized she was tearing up. She wiped the edges of her eyes with her thumb.“I’m so sorry --- I’m so sorry…” She repeated; more tears filling up in her eyes.“I’m sorry for the pr
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I-SHIRLEYCHAPTER 25“Smell…? It smells like blood alright. What other smell are you looking for?” asked the Officer.“It does smell like blood, doesn’t it? Does not what we’re looking for.” Shirley answered.“Oh — then what exactly are you looking for?” He continued.“The smell of death itself; you get me?”“Not really, I don’t.”Shirley sighed and caressed her eyes.“When the angel of death visits, there’s this kind of scent that he leaves around the crime Scene. Not the scent of the dead bodies… he’s own kind of scent. Faint but noticeable by us, because we’ve been to all of his crime scenes.” Ackermann mouthed.The officer looked at Ackermann for a while, Ackermann looked back… And then the officer sent his eyes to Shirley for a while. Shirley had her eyes locked somewhere else, lost in thought for whatever.Ackermann tapped her shoulder a third time until she reacted to it.“Ye – Yes…” Shirley answered, blinking her eyes a couple of times.“Why are you spacing out, Shirley?”“Sor
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I-Shirley BEVERLY HILLS, CALIFORNIA Peter Benedict saw his reflection and marveled at the way his image was chopped up and scrambled by the optics of the glass. The front of the building was a deeply con- cave surface, soaring ten stories over Wilshire Boulevard, almost sucking you in off the sidewalk toward the two-story disk of a lobby. There was an austere slate courtyard, cool and empty except for a Henry Moore bronze, a lobulated and vaguely human conception off to one side. The building glass was flawlessly mirror like, capturing the mood and color of the environs, and this being Beverly Hills, the mood was usually bright and the color a rich sky blue. Because the concavity was so severe, the glass also caught the images from other panes, tossing them like a salad-clouds, buildings, the Moore, pedestrians, and cars jumbled together. It was wonderful. This was his moment. He had reached the pinnacle. He had a scheduled and con- firmed appointment to see Bernie Sch
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Shirley had waited for Azriel for hours and finally given up, after getting no response from her in text. Shirley felt like something was wrong at first but shook out the negative ideas from her head. The robbery staged case didn’t even take half a day to break. It might have been that easy, but Shirley was that good as well; she needs to be acknowledged. Who would have found out the apartment manager had something to do with the incident… yet, Shirley did; quite easily for that matter. Shirley rushed to the airport right after cracking the case, to pick up Azriel, who was supposed to have arrived 45 minutes ago, at 14:00. The thought of her missing her flight didn’t cross Shirley’s mind, because Azriel had confirmed earlier about joining the flight. Shirley went on home.Azriel didn’t miss the flight… She actually took it, saw Shirley at the airport and avoided her. She had her reasons though. She had found the identity of the angel of death, and that saddened her. Professor Wake tex
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Frazier clapped his hands together in triumph and yelled,"Two birds with one fucking stone! Thank you, Lord!" Hestarted thinking. "Any outbound calls? How's she passin8the info?""No calls from her home line or her cell since ths oneOkay, she's in Georgetown, right? Get a bead on allpublic phones in a two-mile radius of where she lives andcheck them for recent calls to other pay phones or prepaidcells. And find out if she has a roommate or a boyfriend andget their numbers and call logs. I want to see a crosshair overPiper's forehead"It was evening in Los Angeles and the heat was starting todissipate. Mark remained in his bungalow all day with a DoNot Disturb sign on the door. He vowed to do penance forKerry by fasting but got light-headed in the afternoon andbroke into the assortment of salty snacks and cookies at thebar. In any event, he reasoned, what happened to her wasmeant to happen, so he wasn't really to blame, was he? Thethought made him feel a little better,
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Marilyn Monroe had stayed there, and Liz Taylor, FredAstaire, Jack Nicholson, Nicole Kidman, Brad Pitt,Johnny Depp, and others whom he forgot because he wasn'tpaying attention to the bellman, who could see he wanted tobe alone and watched him leave quickly without the custom-ary grand tour.To the bellman, the guest looked confused and disheveled.His only bag was a briefcase. But they got all types of richdruggies and eccentrics, and for a tip, the mumbling fellowhad stripped a hundred off a wad so it was all good.Mark woke up, disoriented after a deep sleep, but despitethe cannon fire in his head, he quickly snapped to realityand closed his eyes again in despair. He was aware of a fewsounds: the low hum of an air conditioner, a bird chirpingoutside the window, his hair rubbing between the cottonsheets and his ear. He felt the downward draft from a ceilingfan. His mouth was so desiccated, there didn't seem to be amolecule of moisture to lubricate his tongue.It was the
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The heavy, sweating animal between his legs warmed hisbody against the crisp chill of the mid-December day. Hewas not a good rider. Stonecutters were used to slow speedsin an ox-drawn cart. He gripped the reins tightly, pressed hisknees against the belly of the beast and held on as best hecould. The horse was a healthy animal that the monasterykept stabled on the mainland, just for this kind of purpose.A ferryman had rowed Ubertus from the shingled beach ofVectis to the Wessex shore. Josephus had instructed him tomake haste and return within two days, which meant thehorse must be made to canter.As the day wore on the sky turned slate gray, a hy.to the rocky face of the coastal undercliffs. He rodethrough a frosty countryside of fallow fields Pacewalls, and tiny villages, much like his own. Occasionallyakinde at pace stonehe passed dull-looking peasants, trudging on foot or ridtlethargic mules. He was mindful of thieves but in truth h:only possessions of value were t
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It was harvest time, perhaps Josephus's favorite season.when the days were pleasantly warm, the nights cool andcomfortable, and the air was filled with the earthy smells ofnewly scythed wheat and barley and fresh apples. He gavethanks for the bountiful proceeds from the fields surrounding the abbey walls. The brothers would be able to restockthe dwindling stores in the granary and fill their oakenbarrels with fresh ale. While he abhorred gluttony, he be-grudged the rationing of beer that inevitably occurred bymidsummer.The conversion of the church from wood to stone wasthree years complete. The square, tapering tower rose uphigh enough for boats and ships approaching the island touse as a navigational aide. The squared-off chancel at theeastern end had low, triangular windows that beautifully illuminated the sanctuary during the Offices of the day. Thenave was long enough not only for the present community,but the monastery would be able to accommodate a greaternumber
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Luis had looked at it and had told him it was probablypolice? He hadn't. He was too frightened. They had arguedwith a postcard pinched betweenl his fingers. It's a Doomsdayostcard, Asshole, with my name on it and today's date!a sick joke. Maybe the idiot clerk John had recently firedvetting back at him. And anyway, had John called thewasack and forth for a while until Luis's cellphone had goneoff on the hall table with its campy "Oops I Did it Again"ring tone. John had leapt for it and had cried out, Who thefuck is Phil? Answer, truth be told, was the guy from SuttonPlace, but Luis had dodged the truth unconvincingly.John's emotions had red-lined and, according to Luis, thenormally mild-mannered fellow had lost it, grabbing thealuminum softball bat that he had abandoned by the frontdoor a decade earlier after tearing an Achilles tendon inan adult-league game in Pelham. John had wielded it likea lance, pushing the end into Luis's shoulders, screamingobscenities. Luis
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When Martin was young, his father would take him fishing, because that's what fathers were supposed to do.He'd be woken before dawn with a poke on his shoulder.throw on clothes and climb into the pick-up truck for thedrive from the panhandle town of Quincy down to PanamaCity. His father would hire a 26-footer by the hour from aworking-class marina and chug south about ten miles intothe Gulf. The journey, from his dark bedroom to the spar-kling fishing grounds would occur with scant exchange ofwords. He would watch him pilot the boat, his bulky frametinged orange by the rising sun and wonder why even thenatural beauty of a warm morning boat ride on calm shim-mering waters did not bring joy to the man's face. Eventu-ally, his father would stub out a cigarette and say somethinglike, "Okay, let's get these lines baited up," then lapse intosullen silence for hours at a time until a snapper or a wahoohit the tackle and orders had to be barked.Crossing City Island Bridge and
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At the end of the day, they went back through buck nakedSince scanners couldn't detect paper. Underground was ster-Building 34 vas the most sterile complex in the Unitedby a cadre of Department of Defense recruiters who didn'tlie ground. Nothing came in, nothing came out.States. It was staffed by employees who had been selectedhave the slightest clue about the nature of the work for whichthey were recruiting. They only knew d the of skill interviews set that they wwere allowed to reveal that the job involved Area 51, athen only with the permission of their superiors. Inevitablthat wasrequired. At the second or third round of inter51, andInevitablylace theyed replyinstallationall that cansful applicantment employeesathe recruiters were then asked, "You mean the place theykeep aliens and UFOS?" to which their authorized renlwas, "This is a highly classified government installaidoing critical work on national defense. That is all thatbe disclosed at this time. Ho
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The man was thin but extremely muscular, clean-shavenman said.to me?" he asked.all over, you know what I mean?"each other, having a jolly time."Maybe not. I'm just saying what I would have done."and black-haired, with soft fleshy lips and oily skin the colorof hazelnuts. He was Puerto Rican with a strong islandaccent, casually dressed in black slackS and loose-fittingtropical shirt open to the breastbone. He had long mani-cured fingers, a square gold ring on each hand, and shinygold chains around his neck. At most he was thirty-five. Heextended a hand, and Mark had to grab it out of politeness.The ring seemed to weigh as much as the appendage. "LuISCamacho," the man said. How you doin' ?"Peter Benedict," Mark replied. "I'm doing okay"Luis pointed emphatically at the floor. "When I'm in towthis is my favorite place. I love the Luxor, man"ed sipped his beer. There was never a good time foremall talk, especially tonight. A blender whirred loudly.JIndeterred, Luis cont
