Los Angelos, USA
August 2016
Lynn Vandestine
He enters in this long building.
The building is cloud-kissing, like it was built to stand with pride. He's feeling a bit tired because of the five hour driving, yet he can't avoid the anger in his mind.
The sexy black receptionist in the desk, Landy Keller, smiles sweetly after seeing him.
"Handsome boy, long time no see!" She pouts playfully. "Where have you been? Oh, my mistake. Of course, you had work, didn't you?"
Lynn puts his elbows on the mahogany desk, no mood in flirting with her. "Yeah, I had. Can I see Chief now?"
"Um...Chief's not here, Agent Stanley." Her smile immediately drops, smoothing her curly hair nervously.
"Landy, it's important." He ignores her, briskly stepping front to
● Music recommendation : Not in that way Mahone tiredly slams the door of his bedroom, unbuttoning his coat. He spent more than three hours at some secret underground space for a certain address, got into a few fights too, when he finally found it, but the thought of being betrayed made his blood boiling. So, he did something to the guy who gave him the address and all he's feeling now is tiredness, not any regret.He suddenly notices Lake lying on his bed. "What are you doing in my room?" he asks, pulling off his tie. "Don't you have your room? Go lie down there." Lake glances at him for a second, then looks back the book she's holding. "I'm reading. I will go back when I finish this book. And no offense, but I couldn't like the guest room. It was kinda_ horror movies type room."Mahone starts to unbutton his shirt, stepping to his
"Ah...."Celandine observed the man curiously who just came out from the chamber, going downstairs. She noticed the small hand batch on his black robe, wondering what that might be meaning.Suddenly everything around her changed.They traveled dawn to dusk, past woods and orchards and neatly tended fields, through small villages, crowded market towns, and stout holdfasts. Come dark, they would make camp and eat by the light of the moon and the lamps. The men took turns standing watch. Celandine would glimpse firelight flickeringthrough the trees from the camps of other travelers. There seemed to be more camps every night, and more traffic on the kingsroad by day.She somehow knew it was a dream.Morning, noon, and night they came, old folks and little children, big men and small ones, barefo
San Diego, USAMahone covers his head with the black hoodie, then steps briskly to the small house. He sniffs, the irritating heat of the sun causing him fever. He's not so sure of that, but he can feel it, his head is light-weighted, everything he sees, seems blunt and bright. He climbs the stairs and rings the bell three times, the first two was quick, the last one was differently long. Actually it was a code, but who knows if his friend still remembers it.The door opens fast.An innocent looking boy, has thin beard at his jaw, wearing loafers, is standing at the doorsteps, watching Mahone suspiciously."Assalamu Alaikum," he finally greets him in Arabic. "How can I help you, Mister?"Mahone removes his black sunglasses, then smiles at him, "Lays alyawm, Musa."Musa stares at him in disb
San Francisco, USASeptember, 2016 Mahone tightens the knot of his black tie around his neck, then fixes the collar of his coat. Actually, suit-coat always makes him feeling uneasy, but since it's a mourning day, he can't go there with his usual outfits. It has been three days since Garrett Greenham died. His daughter Samlin is sick, haven't waken up from coma yet in hospital, it was obvious that she would have a nervous breakdown again. Her mother was devastated after seeing them, she still is. The Greenham family has already declared the news of his death in the mass media, said the cause was an unknown assailant's gunshot. The police and detectives are investigating the case, but it's useless. Lynn and Mahone clearly saw who did that and the cops won't do anything about that, because The Conditorem always controls them. Since this two brothers
Somebody is brushing hairs from my forehead. Then nudging my shoulder."Sam, wake up," a voice tells softly.A Male voice.I am feeling confused. There's no male person in our home. Then who is it?I try to open my eyes, but can't, because sunlight is hitting me. Who the hell opened the damn curtains of the damn window?I raise my hands to cover my eyes, but something is in them. Something muddy.Wait...I'm not in home, am I?"Sam," that voice tells again.I snap my eyes open.A strong face welcomes me.I adjust myself in a seated position, glancing around. Who is this guy?Shit!I fell asleep on the mountain top.All the night.I squint at the sunlight, not feelin
"Ah...."Celandine observed the man curiously who just came out from the chamber, going downstairs. She noticed the small hand batch on his black robe, wondering what that might be meaning.Suddenly everything around her changed.They traveled dawn to dusk, past woods and orchards and neatly tended fields, through small villages, crowded market towns, and stout holdfasts. Come dark, they would make camp and eat by the light of the moon and the lamps. The men took turns standing watch. Celandine would glimpse firelight flickeringthrough the trees from the camps of other travelers. There seemed to be more camps every night, and more traffic on the kingsroad by day.She somehow knew it was a dream.Morning, noon, and night they came, old folks and little children, big men and small ones, barefo
His head ached. His senses were strangely dulled; a peculiar lethargy assailed every bone and muscle in his body.Mathios rolled onto his back and sought to recall where he was. Eventually he was forced to resort to prising his eyelids apart in order to survey his surroundings and settle that pressing question. He managed to focus on the rough beams that supported the roof of the shelter, but this was not his longhouse. There were none of the familiar scents that pervaded his home—the aroma of baking bread or the smell of madder boiling over the fire to make dye. His stepmother’s cheerful chatter was absent also. Instead he was surrounded by silence, broken only by the occasional snuffle or snore. He turned his head to the right. Vikarr lay sound asleep not a foot from him. To his left he spied Ivar, just starting to stir.&ldq
Mahone quickly adjusts the scope rings for the second time and pulls the trigger."Hey, wait, wait," Lynn calls out at the walkie-talkie from the down road. "Stop shooting.""Why? I haven't emptied the chamber yet.""Stop it, Mahone." He sighs and picks up the rifle by its carrying handle. He glances at the .50 BMG cartridges miserably, regretting that he can't use them anymore right now, his brother forbade him. He pushes the gun into a plastic container and eyes the rooftop for the last time, if someone was here, fortunately it is empty. He grips the bag tightly and steps to the emergency elevator for exit, covering his eyes by the cap, because police will be here in any moment."How many bullets did you use?" Lynn asks, when they both already got in the car."Seven. Five missed. Before you say somethin' I would like you to remind you that I'm not a professional sniper.""Where are the another two?" he steers the wheel to the left of the road."One drilled his patella, another o
Moriah opened his eyes, blinking at the light. Everything around him was white just like vast space, except there wasn't darkness. All around the place was so bright, but there was nothing except him as if he was floating on there alone, in the middle of nowhere. 'What happened? Where am I?' He slowly lifted his head up, it was pounding like a hammer. Of course, he found it slightly ridiculous that he was sitting on nothing or perhaps on an invisible seat. He should have been scared and worried and felt lost, but since he was unaware of those feelings, he became wary. "Slept well?" A female voice made his head jerk to the other side. Moriah grimaced. Hadassah muttered something under her breath, and the next moment he fell from that place. He opened his mouth to scream, but the air was rushing him down, he could feel the unbelievable weightlessness of him. He squeezed his eyes shut, a second later he heard the desperate shriek which could be his own voice... Crunch!
She was grubbing for vegetables in a dead man's garden when she heard the singing. Arya stiffened, still as stone, listening, the three stringy carrots in her hand suddenly forgotten. She thought of the Bloody Mummers and Roose Bolton's men, and a shiver of fear went down her back. It's not fair, not when we finally found the Trident, not when we thought we were almost saf Only why would the Mummers be singin The song came drifting up the river from somewhere beyond the little rise to the east. "Off to Gulltown to see the fair maid, heigh-ho, heigh-ho . . . Arya rose, carrots dangling from her hand. It sounded like the singer was coming up the river road. Over among the cabbages, Hot Pie had heard it too, to judge by the look on his face. Gendry had gone to sleep in the shade of the burned cottage, and was past hearing anythi "I'll steal a sweet kiss with the point of my blade, heigh-ho, heigh-ho." She thought she heard a woodharp too, beneath the soft rush of the rive "Do you h
"Ah...." Celandine observed the man curiously who just came out from the chamber, going downstairs. She noticed the small hand batch on his black robe, wondering what that might be meaning. Suddenly everything around her changed. They traveled dawn to dusk, past woods and orchards and neatly tended fields, through small villages, crowded market towns, and stout holdfasts. Come dark, they would make camp and eat by the light of the moon and the lamps. The men took turns standing watch. Celandine would glimpse firelight flickeringthrough the trees from the camps of other travelers. There seemed to be more camps every night, and more traffic on the kingsroad by day. She somehow knew it was a dream. Morning, noon, and night they came, old folks and little children, big men and small ones, barefoot girls and women with babes at their breasts. Some drove farm wagons or bumped along in the back of ox carts. More rode: draft horses, ponies, mules, donkeys, anything that would walk or ru
The morning air was dark with the smoke of burning goods. The old dry wood and countless layers of paint and varnish blazed with a fierce hungry light. Heat rose shimmering through the chill air; behind, the gargoyles and stone dragons on the castle walls seemed blurred, as if Moriah were seeing them through a veil of tears. Or as if the beasts were trembling, stirring . . "An ill thing," Hadassah declared, though at least she had the sense to keep her voice low "Silence," said Moriah. "Remember where you are. They were heading to the Garde Hundreds had come to the battle gates to bear witness to the burning of the Battle of Blood. The smell in the air was ugly. Even for soldiers, it was hard not to feel uneasy at such an affront to the gods most had worshiped all their live Moriah was thinking about his ancestors. They had overturned the altars, pulled down the statues, and smashed the stained glass with warhammers. The old Hand could only curse them, but Ser Hubard Rambton led
The drapes kept out the dust and heat of the streets, but they could not keep out disappointment. Dany climbed inside wearily, glad for the refuge from the sea of Qartheen eyes. "Make way," Jhogo shouted at the crowd from horseback, snapping his whip, "make way, make way for the Mother of Dragons." Reclining on cool satin cushions, Xaro Xhoan Daxos poured ruby-red wine into matched goblets of jade and gold, his hands sure and steady despite the sway of the palanquin. "I see a deep sadness written upon your face, my light of love." He offered her a goblet. "Could it be the sadness of a lost dream?" "A dream delayed, no more." Dany's tight silver collar was chafing against her throat. She unfastened it and flung it aside. The collar was set with an enchanted amethyst that Xaro swore would ward her against all poisons. The Pureborn were notorious for offering poisoned wine to those they thought dangerous, but they had not given Dany so much as a cup of water. They never saw me for a qu
xlq_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 Francisco, USA September, 2016 Mahone tightens the knot of his black tie around his neck, then fixes the collar of his coat. Actually, suit-coat always makes him feeling uneasy, but since it's a mourning day, he can't go there with his usual outfits. It has been three days since Garrett Greenham died. His daughter Samli
"I don't recall as we did." Giant was no more than five feet tall-his true name was Bedwyck-but a fierce little man for all that. "Slayer, did you ask Craster for his counsel?" Sam cringed at the name, but shook his head. He filled another spoon, brought it to Bannen's mouth, and tried to ease it between his l "Food and fire," Giant was saying, "that was all we asked of you. And you grudge us the food "Be glad I didn't grudge you fire too." Craster was a thick man made thicker by the ragged smelly sheepskins he wore day and night. He had a broad flat nose, a mouth that drooped to one side, and a missing ear. And though his matted hair and tangled beard might be grey going white, his hard knuckly hands still looked strong enough to hurt. "I fed you what I could, but you crows are always hungry. I'm a godly man, else I would have chased you off. You think I need the likes of him, dying on my floor? You think I need all your mouths, little man?" The wildling spat. "Crows. When did a b
"Mr. Jeong, are you okay? You suddenly seem.... distracted." "I-I'm...fine, it's.... fine," Sung-ho answered somehow, his hands were shaking because of that ugly memory. He pressed his hands together forcefully under the desk, ignoring the pain running through his nerves Choi Dea looked at him with slight worry, wondering why he was sweating so hard. After he explained everything what happened with her sister and him, even though she wasn't sure whether it was truth or not, her expression softened a bit. She also noticed how he had reacted when she had mentioned his father Shi-woo. So she assumed that the relationship between Mafia son and father might not be good "Thank you for your explanation about Joo-eun," she said after a moment. "And I would prefer if you don't tell about this incident to anybody. Ever. Sung-ho frowned a little. "Urm, sure. She glanced at the bracelet again which her friend had given it to her when she was little. Even though she couldn't remember that,
Samlin Greenham "I told Emilia about the real you," I pull out a grass from the ground, watching it closely. "I don't like lying to my best friend.""It's fine," the corner of his mouth moves up as a smile. "As long as she doesn't spread that I'm twenty-four years old and didn't even finish college. In the meantime, it's cool."I laugh, my eyes focusing at the sky. You might wonder where I am now. You do remember Alone Five, the tiny mountain, right? Like that, this place is Alone Two, a strangely beauteous fountain, it has a pretty little garden in front of it, full with wildflowers. And that's where I'm lying on, my mind is peaceful, quiet, Lynn is beside me. I inhale deeply, feeling the smell of flowers and fresh air and leaves of the trees."My eyes aren't burning looking up at the sky anymore. Maybe it will rain," he speaks in a low tone, then places his arms under his head. "Someday the sun shines so bright, so my eyes hurt, but I can't seem to pull my gaze from the sky.""Y