In order to give himself ample time to prepare for the ritual, Dominic arrived early the next morning to open the museum. Much to his surprise, someone waiting for him outside. Two someones, in fact.
“You’re back,” Dominic said, withdrawing his keys.
“I am.” Halldor replied. “Not a moment too soon, from the looks of it.”
Dominic glanced around at the decaying colors of the buildings surrounding them. “A lot of things are happening all at once. I fear we may have a perfect storm brewing.” The lock clicked open, but instead of entering he gave the second occupant of the bench a warm
Was he falling? Nay, he wasn’t falling. He wasn’t rising either. He was trapped somewhere in between, floating yet not in an endless sea of void. Then gravity seemed to remember its duty and pushed down on his chest and limbs, gentle at first, then harder and harder. Light, as if from the end of a tunnel, shown through the void, and with it came the buzzing hum that filled this time with all its gadgets and electronics. Sensation crept back, connecting mind to body and making his limbs tingle. Halldor groaned.
There was a faint rustle nearby, somewhere to the side and up. Up? Aye, that’s right. The cold,
“Amigo, look.”
“No, I don’t want to.”
“I am serious! Look!”
Alto cracked an eye open. He could still feel the flush of embarrassment across his face, extending to the tips of his ears. One hand over the microphone to prevent any more accidental slip-ups, he peeked around his friend.
Embarrassment faded to confusion.
“Is he…?”
“Sí, I think so.”
“Does that mean she…?”
His partner shrugged. “Your call, amigo.”
Alto cleared his throat and uncovered the microphone. “Well folks, it l
Current Residence: Planet Earth Favourite genre of music: Instrumental/Soundtrack Favourite style of art: Traditional MP3 player of choice: One that works
Favourite Writers
Christopher Stasheff
Tools of the Trade
Col-erase pencils are nice
Other Interests
Writing stories, drawing, playing video games, reading, and learning