Eric Butler's Blog, page 34

Side note - I decided that something written last week was incorrect and since I would correct it for the book volume, I would go ahead and correct it now and repost for those reading this tale weekly.  Thanks for the support and I hope you are enjoying the story...

This starts with the 2nd section of Chapter 46 and leads straight into today's work.  

***

Zona floated in the dark. No magic trap kept her out of the way, she was simply unconscious. Her blood boiled at her foolishness. Always be on the lookout! She told herself for the hundredth time since sipping that tea. Whatever the Doctor had used was powerful. No...not the Doctor, but Mr. Cook, the medicine man. And while Zona appreciated his pain, she refused to forgive the man for his part in all the deaths over the last few days.

Taking a deep breath, Zona tried to contact Ephraim once again. Her cries seemingly fell on deaf ears, but she expected it was more likely the fool man was too far underground, running through the sewer tunnels looking for the boy. She shook her head at the thought.

"That boy will end up breaking him," she whispered, needing the words to be said out loud and not trapped in her head.

In all the commotion, Zona caught the boy's proclamation. She realized who the boy was and her heart ached from the information. It would do Ephraim no good to find his son after so long, to only discover his captor had corrupted the boy beyond redemption. So she floated in the darkness, praying to either gain Ephraim's attention or wake up naturally. That is if Cook didn't overdo the poison.

CHAPTER-FORTY-SEVEN

Constable Hill stood by the back door. He stared straight ahead, trying to keep his mind blank. Every few minutes, his gaze shifted as he studied something new in his attempt to distract him from his thoughts. Yet every time his mind slid back to the girl's chest exploding and the shadow creature slithering out. His hands trembled at his side as he replayed the girl dying over and over until he formed fists. Hill imagined he was squeezing the neck of that young lad who so easily drove the blade into her back.

The door opening shook him from his thoughts, and Hill turned to catch who was leaving. Dr. Livingstone strode out of the house and down the alley before Hill even processed what was happening. He was pretty sure the Inspector wanted everyone to stay in the house until he returned from his jaunt in the sewers. If he returns. Hill blanched at the dark thought. He'd known the Inspector for years; the man was tough as nails and would be none too pleased to find the doctor gone.

Hill stood still a moment, the internal argument in his head freezing him in place. Should he take the time to tell Clark up front or go after the doctor immediately? Hill jolted as he realized he no longer saw Livingstone anywhere and sprang forward, rushing to catch up. Clark will just have to wait.

***

Constable Clark leaned against the front door. He fought the urge to sit down on the stairs and bury his head in his hands. The little girl exploding forced his memories from the war to flood back in; memories he had worked hard to erase. You never really forget. The thought hung there for a moment before Clark shook his head.

"Of course not," he mumbled out loud, "But I finally had it to dreams." A tear ran down his cheek and his hand quickly wiped it away. Wouldn't do to be crying on the stoop when the Inspector returned; he forced a laugh at the thought. He would deal with the memories like he did every night, with a bottle of whatever he could afford.

"Stop," a voice called out and Clark stood straight, looking in the direction of the cry.

"Bloody hell," he growled under his breath, sliding to the top step. Dr. Livingstone was striding away, pretty as you please. The inspector had given them specific instructions to keep everyone together and safe until his return.

Has he come back? Clark glanced at the door and waited for it to open. There was no way the Inspector would keep me outside if they were letting others leave...would he? The door remained closed, so he refocused his attention to the doctor.

Clark shook his head as he spotted Hill waiving his hand and running after the doctor, screaming for the man to stop once more. Clark hurried down the stairs to join his fellow constable. As his foot hit the sidewalk he stopped, suddenly aware that Ms. Whitlock was nowhere to be seen. It seemed odd that the doctor would leave without her as they had been thick as thieves since the Inspector started dragging the boys after them just days ago.

Hill can handle the doctor, he decided as he rushed back up the stairs and into the house. Standing in the entry, Clark racked his brain trying to remember where they left the two. The kitchen! He darted down the hall, happy he would not be navigating past all the blood and bodies that filled this structure.

"Ms. Whitlock?" Clark called out as he moved through the house. He called out once more before making it to the kitchen and freezing at the entryway.

Ms. Whitlock sat slumped in her chair, a teacup shattered on the floor by her feet. A dark liquid shimmed around the pieces as a fire put off a stifling heat. He studied her a moment, willing her to move, but she sat so still. The Inspector is going to have our heads.

"Ms. Whitlock?" he asked, trying to understand what happened. She offered no explanation as he squatted at her side. Her breaths were so slight and her chest rising and falling so shallow, Clark was forced to move closer to investigate. 

As he leaned forward, she mumbled, "That boy will end up breaking him." 

Clark sighed in relief but wondered what she meant by that. He reached over and shook her gently. He increased his urgency, but she offered no other words and refused to wake up.

***

"Doctor, wait...stop," Constable Hill called out as he attempted to close the distance.

"Watch it, Peeler," a man snarled as Hill bumped into him. He shot the man a nasty look, annoyed he couldn't stop an address his attitude. The doctor was pulling farther and farther away. Gonna have to use the rattle soon if he gets any more ahead.

The doctor turned a corner and disappeared. Hill lowered his shoulder and pushed onward to the dismay of those in front of him. His hand wrapped around his truncheon in case anyone decided to issue a complaint, but after the first few people, they parted to let him rush by.

Hill turned the corner just as Livingstone entered a building down the way. Stopping in front, Hill studied the structure. What ever did the doctor need with a dress?

The door opened and a woman rushed out, "Praise the Lord, constable there is a strange man inside. Please remove him at once!" She tugged at his sleeve hoping to get him moving as she returned to her shop.

"Yes ma'am," Hill said with a tip of his cap. He entered first and glanced around. "Where is he exactly?"

"The back," she said pointing excitingly, "Over there."

Hill nodded and rushed forward barging through the opening and stopping in the back room. A young girl cowered in the corner; she raised a shaky arm and pointed to the staircase leading up. Hill sprang up the stairs stopping on each floor to check for the doctor before moving higher. The stairs ended at a door, and he burst through, finding himself on the roof.

Livingstone strode to the edge. He appeared to be arguing with himself as he moved back and forth. Hill watched as the doctor grabbed his head in pain and hunched over.

"Doctor," Hill shouted as he stepped closer. Livingstone straightened and glanced at the man before offering a wicked smile.

"See you in Hell," he said his voice deeper and fuller than the constable remembered.

"No," Hill cried out as he dashed across the roof and grabbed the tails of the doctor's coat as he attempted to step from the roof. A collective gasp issued from the people below, but Hill ignored it as he pulled with all his might. The doctor's right foot dangled over the empty air but his other stood firmly on the roof's edge. The doctor fell back into Hill.  The two men tumbled to the ground and Hill moaned at the weight of the man he just saved.

"I say Constable Hill," Livingstone asked, his voice back to normal, "Whatever are we doing laying on this roof?"

CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

Oringo slowed to a walk. If he counted correctly, he should be near the ladder he needed to escape back to the surface. Shifting the creature away from the glare, he held the lantern higher hoping to illuminate the tunnel better. After a few feet, the light reflected off the ladder. Now the hard part.

Oringo stepped past the ladder and walked a few more feet. Laying in the muck was a pile of corpses. His master said they would be fresh, but from the smell, Oringo doubted that. He was no stranger to death, but he was frightened of the dead. The image of his mother's lifeless eyes still haunted him in his dreams.

The creature squirmed in his grasp, and Oringo realized he was crushing it. He loosened his grip and it sprang forward burrowing itself in the dead flesh. Oringo fell to his knees, scrambling around trying to recapture the creature. Footsteps echoing down the tunnel grabbed his attention, and he stood.

No time for this. He hoped the creature would be unaffected. With the dagger gone, Oringo wasn't sure if his master would or even could make another. Reaching into his pocket, he removed a packet. He sprinkled the contents over the bodies and whispered the exact words his master had made him learn in a dark and unnatural tongue.

He waited a moment, shining the lantern on the pile. The creature emerged from the mouth of an old man, oozing down his chin and sliding to Oringo. He bent down and scooped up the creature. The footsteps were louder, closer and Oringo knew his time was up. He stepped back, holding the lantern high.

There, a twitch. His mind reeled from the implication. Now the bodies were writhing, chests moving up and down, and limbs flopping around like fish straight out of the lake. He threw the lantern in the muck, extinguishing the light. A grotesque smile came over Oringo's face as he began to climb the ladder. He would return at his leisure to retrieve his mother's locket.

***

"Do you hear that?" Kimbell asked over Ephraim's shoulder.

"Yes," Ephraim answered as he held the lantern higher, "Maybe an animal?"

Ephraim pulled up and waited. He failed to see how rushing blindly forward would help them. A loud clang sounded from down the tunnel.

"I think our quarry has departed this subterranean nightmare," Ephraim said glancing at the inspector who nodded.

Wet slippery sounds echoed down the tunnel. Splashes and moaning increased in volume and Ephraim stepped forward, trying to capture anything in the light.

"Good God," Kimbell said, disbelief filling his voice. He raised his revolver and fired multiple times into the shuffling mass.

Ephraim's ears rang as he stared at the group of bodies moving toward them. At first, he thought they were individuals, clustered together for support, but as they shambled closer he realized that was not the case. Instead, the bodies seemed to flow into each other blurring where one started and the other ended. His mind flashed to the Stanbury Estate and the fountain they used to enter this labyrinth.

The Inspector fired again, an old man's head exploded like an overripe melon but the mass of flesh pushed forward without a pause. A low hissing whisper filled the tunnel. Ephraim's skin crawled when he recognized the hiss as human voices. All who made the horde advancing towards them were speaking together.

"Inspector, I fear we need to backtrack to the last ladder and leave this pit of despair," Ephraim said as he backed up a few steps forcing Kimbell to do the same.

Tentacles started slipping from the mob of bodies, wriggling in every direction. Ephraim opened the lantern fully and swung his arm back. As his arm moved forward, he released the lantern and shouted, "Run."

Ephraim spun around and put his hand on the Inspector's back, encouraging him to move faster. A loud whoosh filled their ears as the lantern crashed into the bodies, spilling its oil and lighting the flesh on fire. The flames rose quickly, filling the tunnel with enough light for Ephraim and Kimbell to navigate with no issues save the nightmarish shrieks that filled the tunnel behind them.

© 2020 Naked Cat Press. All Rights Reserved

2020 has been a real gut punch as the family has lost another 4-legged member.  That's 2 this year, read about Montana here, and 3 in the last 8 months.  We adopted all of them around the same time and while they offered so much joy while they were here, it has been rather difficult to say goodbye to them all so close together.  

This one is especially hard as Isis was my baby.  All my animals are super spoiled, but Isis was the Queen Bee when it came to attention.  I'm having a difficult time writing this so I don't come across as completely insane, but with Isis, I kinda was completely insane.  My wife used to joke that one day I would have Isis in a carry-on bag and travel around the world while both of us wore matching bedazzled t-shirts.   She was the perfect buddy.

Like all Sphynx cats, she was quite the personality.  They aren't like any other cat.  They are a mix of cats, dogs, and monkeys.  They are super curious, very loyal, very loving, and while they don't mind hanging by themselves, they will eventually hunt down a human for snuggles and love.  They don't care if you like cats, because they know that they can win you over.  

I have a hard time remembering a time where Isis wasn't there, she was such a big part of the family.  And when I go back and look at the pictures when she first arrived, I'm shocked at how old my son is and where we were in life as a family.  I end up always thinking, "I could have sworn we had her before that."  

And so with this post, I'm going to share the process of getting her.  A story I enjoy telling and my poor friends and family have heard many, many times.  

Isis's story for my family begins in a McDonald's.  It was an Elementary School fundraiser and Dawn (my wife) and I were discussing nothing in particular as we waited for the kiddo to finish hanging with his friends.  At this time we had 2 cats, Brick and Mr. Pickles, and a dog, Montana.  We also had a little extra money and Dawn out of the blue asked me if I wanted to use the money on a pet I've always wanted.  The choice was between a bulldog and a Sphynx.  At the time, I couldn't imagine having 2 dogs (which is funny to think now since we have 2 very active huskies) and jumped at the chance to get a hairless kitty.  

It just so happened there was a Sphynx up for adoption on Petfinders.com.  She was one of a dozen or so cats rescued from a basement breeder.  From what we gathered from the rescuers, the cats were stacked in cages and rarely taken out.  Isis was a couple of years old when someone finally went in and shut down the operation.  The animals were taken by fosters and then put on the adoption site.  

Isis was in Nebraska and ready to adopt.  However, Isis had developed a bad upper respiratory infection and had some vet bills that needed to be handled.  So the foster had 3 stipulations: adopter paid for the vet bills, you had to write an essay to show why your house was the best house for Isis to go to, and she had to be picked up.  I wish I still had that essay but that was a few computers ago and it was lost in the shuffle of life.  

The foster accepted my essay, saying our big dog was one of the reasons since they also had big dogs and Isis loved them.  Dawn and I hopped on a plane and flew to Omaha and waited for them to show up with the cat.  Side note, I've had one of the best Philly cheesesteaks ever at the Omaha airport - easily top 3.  I was super nervous and excited.  I couldn't wait to meet this naked cat. 

They arrived with her in a carrier and we went to a spot off to the side to exchange her into our carrier and get any last-minute stuff needed to complete the trade.  They told us that she was sick with an upset stomach and in fact, had just had gone to the bathroom right before they got to the airport.  Not something you want to hear when you know you have a few hours wait in an airport before getting on a flight that was also going to take a few hours.  I was excited so I kept it together.  They reached into the bag and pulled her out.  Immediately I thought, "Oh God this is a mistake.  They are giving us a dying cat."

They held out a severely underweight pink and purplish colored thing that had exaggeratedly long limbs and a tail with a broken tip.  She may have made her customary chirps and meows to say hello but I heard nothing as I took the "cat" from the lady's extended arms.  I held her close, assuming she was cold since she wore only a collar.  She snuggled close and purred, and I was hooked.  Maybe she would expire the second we got home, but she was coming back with us no matter what.  

Thank God, nothing happened on the plane ride.  She slept the whole time and the only issue was when the flight attendant asked me to put her bag under the seat during landing.  I wanted to keep holding her and instead asked if that was an option.  That was not an option until he found out I had a Sphynx.  He was excited to meet one in person and decided to let me keep her on my lap.  All while Dawn stared daggers at me since she knew we really should have put her under the seat.  

Now I'd be lying if I said it was an easy transition for the animals but Isis took to the humans with no problem.  I'd guess it was a few weeks before the cats and dog accepted her as another cat and not some alien hybrid.  When she wasn't in her bed, many times she might be in our bed or our son's bed so Dawn had Isis wear a bell so we wouldn't squish her.  After a few months, the bell was retired as everyone got used to the little naked beast popping up where you least expected.  She gained some weight, got healthy, but always had that annoying respiratory issue that popped up frequently.  She was a big part of the family for 12 years.  

I can tell you without hesitation I made the right choice at McDonald's that day in selecting a Sphynx.  She was the perfect cat to watch TV, read, or nap with.  And while I can't imagine life without a naked cat running around it's going to take some time to find another one as perfect as Isis.

I wanted to share a few more pictures and a video so you can see how they "talk".  One of Isis's funny habits was to sleep like a person.  She would crawl into bed and lay her head on a pillow and be snug under the blankets.  She also had blankets and cloth sacks throughout the house to get into so she could stay warm.  On sunny days, which we get a lot in Texas, she would stretch out and soak up the rays.  The Post-lady often would stop by and see Isis through the glass door getting her sun on.  

Dawn's favorite picture.  Isis loved to watch the birds.

Isis and Montana getting some sun.

The gang...(left to right) Ms. Peanut, Mr. Pickles, Isis, and Brick

And while I rarely talk to babies with a "baby" voice, I almost always spoke to Isis with one...

https://video.wixstatic.com/video/7183c3_d992f9abb8ea4ce4879008efba1f891e/1080p/mp4/file.mp4

CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

Oringo ran down the tunnel, his swaying lantern casting shadows in front and behind. Mr. Cook told him to return straight away, time was running out. Oringo didn't understand what was going on half of the time, but he knew better than to disappoint the man. A lesson demonstrated on Mr. Hatty but learned by Oringo fairly quickly.

At the time, he thought all the blood was excessive but after each kill since Oringo grew to accept it. Blood was necessary for the master's plan to advance. Oringo licked his lips at the thought; necessary and enjoyable. Mr. Hatty used fear and intimidation to gain what they needed, rarely moving past a balled fist to deliver his message across. In the beginning, that alone scared Oringo. The few memories he possessed of his true father were warm and loving, more feelings than formed memories.

All that changed when his father left for the war. The family fell on hard times and then the letter came. He never remembered a time his mother cried more than when the man delivered the message with his hat in his hand and a sad look on his face; his earliest memory, but not the most horrific. That memory he blocks out...the best he can.

Oringo can still hear his mother's shrieks after Hatty slipped into their room. He stops in the tunnel, his eyes squeezed shut. Whispering a prayer to the dark god Mr. Cook introduced him to, Oringo begs them to help him forget the things done to her. His mother's cries seemed to get louder as dark, quiet laughter bounces off the stone walls. He bites the inside of his cheek until he tastes blood. The warm fluid shocks his senses back, and he is in the tunnel once again; his mother's cries as silent as when Hatty slipped his knife between her breasts.

Oringo yelped in panic when a dark blob fell on to his shoulder, slipping down his chest and into his free arm. He almost flung the thing, but something stayed his hand. The blob rolled in his grip, a face occasionally appearing, and he held the lantern up to shine brighter on the creature. It shied away from the hot box, squishing flat against Oringo's chest.

He wasn't sure what it was, but Mr. Cook would be happy. This made three. But if it's here, the others must be close. The thought did nothing but fuel his anger. Oringo needed that locket back; the last connection to his mother. If not for the creature, Oringo would wait for them to advance, so he could retrieve it but Mr. Cook would have his hide if anything happened to it.

Footsteps echoed in the darkness. Oringo held still, listening with the effort Hatty taught him over the years. Two sets of footfall, both too heavy to be a lady's so must be the Doctor and the locket-stealer. He cursed under his breath and ran the opposite directing. There'd be time; he'd been promised an eternity.

***

Ephraim stood at the bottom, waiting for the Inspector. The tunnel amplified all noise, and he thought he heard a scream...if not in terror than surprise at least. He strained to separate all the noise but failed as the Kimbell jumped to the stone floor. He motioned for Ephraim to lead as he slipped out his revolver.

"Wouldn't do to be caught unaware down here," Kimbell said as he fell into step behind Ephraim.

"Yes, but the Lord only knows where he is leading us," Ephraim said, his focus solely on the boy.

With all the confusion above ground, he wondered if he possibly misheard the boy. There had been a terrible racket between the screams, the water, and the creature exiting the girl; maybe the answer had been something other than mother. Ephraim shook his head as they hurried forward. He knew in his heart that the boy spoke the truth and the improbable if not the impossible had happened. His boy was alive and a monster.

CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

Mr. Cook's eyes opened slowly. The return had been more difficult than he anticipated. Something deep in Dr. Livingstone had held Cook even as he struggled to leave. It was the first time he ever entered a living human. He would have believed it impossible to his dying breath, except he just slipped into a live man and beat back his conscious mind.

Cook continued to stare at the ceiling with unblinking eyes. He moved the man like a puppet, and the strain no more than riding a horse. Of course in his old body, he would have expired over the energy needed but Mr. Whitlock's form was special. Ojo'out delivered just as promised all those years ago.

Cook was so close to exacting his revenge. True, the men were now all gone, but Cook wanted to bring England to her knees; to make her pay for even thinking of sending those monstrous men to his homeland to do her bidding. He would open the gates of Hell in the center of her heart and let the demons pour forth like so many locusts.

Sitting up, Cook took a deep breath. There was still so much they would need to get done before that day could come. He glanced at the table and smiled. Three cages sat on a table. Two of them held the dark creatures they had called forth with the knife. The third should be on its way here with Oringo. The thought made him smile. The plans he had for the boy only made his revenge that much sweeter.

He's still just a boy, but soon, with my help, he will be a man to be feared.

***

Zona floated in the dark. No magic trap kept her out of the way, she was simply unconscious. Her blood boiled at her foolishness. Always be on the lookout! She told herself for the hundredth time since sipping that tea. Whatever the Doctor had used was powerful. No...not the Doctor, but Mr. Cook, the medicine man. And while Zona appreciated his pain, she could not forgive the man for his part in all the deaths over the last few days.

Taking a deep breath, Zona tried to contact Ephraim once again. Her cries seemingly fell on deaf ears, but she felt it more likely the man wasn't asleep yet. Most likely the fool still ran through the sewer tunnels looking for the boy. She shook her head at the thought.

"That boy will end up breaking him," she whispered, needing the words to be said out loud and not trapped in her head.

In all the commotion, Zona caught the boy's proclamation. She realized who the boy was and her heart ached from the information. It would do Ephraim no good to find his son after so long, to only discover his captor had corrupted the boy beyond redemption. So she floated in the darkness, praying she could either gain Ephraim's attention or wake up naturally. That is if Cook didn't overdo the poison.

 

 

 

 

© 2020 Naked Cat Press. All Rights Reserved

While there are several streaming sites and apps that have original material, I find many of my favorites are on Amazon Prime. They have a wide selection that jumps around genres and styles, unafraid to take chances. Tonight I am suggesting the following three: First up is Carnival Row. The backdrop for this show is a fictional world that reflects the late Victorian Era, but jams in mythical creatures who are forced to this land as immigrants. Orlando Bloom stars as a detective who works within the areas the creatures are forced to live. The season follows Bloom as he tries to solve a string of murders no human sees as connected. While attempting to do this, he stumbles across a long-ago ended forbidden love. The show also fills in some of the background to explain why the creatures are in this new country, and what restrictions have been placed upon them. Bloom shines as the broken-down cop just trying to do what he believes is right. The second show is Undone. This is animated, but not like Bob's Burgers, Family Guy, or even Archer. This show uses animation to mirror true life and to show you that within that life anything is possible. The show incorporates rotoscoping, where the animators draw over live-action. This was a technique used quite frequently by Ralph Balski in the '70s and '80s in classic films like Lord of the Rings, Wizards, American Pop, and Fire and Ice (but that's for another blog). Here the actors acted on a small stage with minimal props. This allowed the animators to capture the amazing performances and add in all of the mind-bending action needed to share this story. Undone is about a broken woman. Because of things from her past, she can't move forward and all her relationships are combative and full of friction. However, after she gets into a car accident she discovers a new relationship with time and how it affects all those around her. It's got a trippy vibe but makes you think throughout the whole season. The last one is brand new. Upload, from the guy who created Parks and Rec and the US version of the Office, is the story of a guy who dies earlier than he expected and is uploaded to digital heaven. Lakeview is the digital home that the rich and famous go right before they die. All their memories are put into an avatar and they have handlers that help them adjust to their new lives. Stephen Amell's little brother Robbie is the main character, and while the story follows the sitcom format, this show offers so much more than laughs.

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE "Livingstone," Ephraim called out as he moved to the man's side. The doctor lay on the ground, his eyes open with a rather large lump forming on his forehead. The handle of the knife sat off to the side, with no blade attached. Ephraim reached to pick it up, but Zona's hand on his shoulder stopped him. "It's a cursed item...even without the blade it might do damage." Ephraim nodded and moved his attention back to the doctor. He blinked a few times and when he struggled to rise, Kimbell and Ephraim helped him to a sitting position. He looked at each person, taking long moments to study their faces before moving to the next. Finally, Livingstone locked eyes with Ephraim and said, "So who are you?" Ephraim glanced at Zona and Kimbell before refocusing on Livingstone. How hard did that handle strike the man? "Livingstone, I'm Ephraim Godwin," he said offering his hand to help the doctor to his feet. "And this is Ms. Zona Whitlock and Inspector Kimbell." "Ah," Livingstone said, nodding in agreement, "Pleasure to meet you but maybe I wasn't clear...who are you to me?" Zona reached out and touched the angry red knot on his forehead. "We are your friends, good Doctor," Zona said, sadness filling her voice. She shook her head at Ephraim and moved her hand away, letting it fall uselessly to her side. "Oh, well lucky for me then," he said, a smile on his lips. "This could have ended much worse if I'd been found on the ground by strangers. You just never know. Once in Africa, I witnessed what happens to those found by the unfriendly...believe me, not something one wants to experience or remember if I'm being honest." Ephraim nodded and patted the doctor on his shoulder. Stepping away from the man, he motioned for the Inspector and Zona to follow. They stepped to his side and the three huddled together. "I'm not sure I can handle any more of this funny business," Kimbell said with a sigh. "It's going to take all I got to get those two constables moving and now we've lost the doctor." "Yes," Ephraim said, "we have lost him. Ms. Whitlock will take him back in the house and keep an eye on him." "And where will you be?" Ephraim glanced at her and offered a sad smile. It struck him odd that even though he just lost a new comrade, a friend, his only thoughts were of relief the handle had not struck her. "We will be after the lad." "And how will we be doing that?" the Inspector asked as he glanced around. "Unfortunately, we'll be in the sewers." *** Zona glared at Ephraim. Just like the man to send me away to babysit! Her cheeks blazed red, and her eyes closed to slits. She opened her mouth to inform the man exactly what she planned to do. Ephraim held up his hand, "Hold on before you decide to argue. We need someone familiar with...well, the supernatural I guess, to watch over the man. You have the most experience." Zona moved her glare towards the Inspector who reluctantly nodded his agreement. "Very well...you've convinced me," she said through clenched teeth. "However, I must warn you that if the boy or his master can produce such effects as we just witnessed, you must be prepared for anything." "Well, of course," Ephraim replied, clearing his throat as her glare intensified. "I mean of course we will." Zona slipped her arm through the doctor's and led him into the house. "I expect you back in one hour Mr. Godwin," Zona called over her shoulder as they disappeared inside. CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR "The sewers?" Kimbell asked as the two men moved toward the fountain. Ephraim nodded before pausing at the statue. The marble had changed from a dirty, stained white to glistening dark green. The tentacles flowed out from one central mass that Ephraim could not make sense of as it seemed to not be a body or a hole. He fought the urge to reach out and touch the stone; afraid they might come alive and wrap around him. He had seen what a squid could do to a dolphin, and he expected it would feel something like that. "I'm afraid so. We must catch the boy, and...whatever left the girl," Ephraim said with a shudder. He knelt by the fountain's edge and pointed behind the statue. A large cover had been removed and the fountain's water now drained through the opening. Kimbell turned to his men, neither had moved from their spots since the girl's death. "Find me a lantern and then I want you two to stay with Ms. Whitlock and the Doctor." The constables shared a look and then one moved towards the house while the other fetched the Inspector a lantern. "I don't want to be stuck underground after sunset," Kimbell growled as they waited. "Agreed," Ephraim said as he stepped into the now empty fountain. He stared down the hole, counting the ladder rungs until the dark grew too dense. Lucky number thirteen, hopefully, that means nothing. Ephraim no longer understood anything. The last few days were a blur and if he took a step back and tried to process it all he knew he'd go mad. The constable held out the lantern, the wick lit. Kimbell nodded his thanks and motioned for Ephraim to start. Ephraim slipped into the hole and moved down until his waist was level with the opening. Kimbell handed him the lantern and waited for Ephraim to continue to the sewers. "Bloody hell," Kimbell said loud enough for him to hear as the Inspector stepped on the first rung. *** Zona emerged from the washroom with noticeably less blood and gore on her person. The dress is ruined, she thought with a frown. It was one of her favorites, a special gift from her brother on a trip to Germany. Her eyes welled up at the realization that there would be no more gifts from her brother. "Are you well, miss?" Zona blinked back the tears and stared at Dr. Livingstone. She swallowed; afraid she might truly break down if she answered immediately. Instead, she simply nodded and moved past him. "Would you care for some tea?" he asked as she slipped into a chair near the fireplace. Zona had left the doctor in the kitchen, away from the mess. She thought it unfair to make him experience that a second time. When she left the room, the fireplace was cold and dark, now a fire roared and a kettle was on. She turned her head to the doctor and nodded once again. He hurried to prepare two cups and handed her one as he took the other seat. Zona smiled and took a sip. A sharp bitter taste filled her mouth as the cup slipped from her fingers and shattered on the hard floor. Livingstone smiled and scooted to the end of his seat, placing his cup down on an end table. He reached out and took one of her hands. "I was extremely impressed with how you retrieved our Mr. Godwin so quickly," the Doctor said in a voice no longer his own. "We can't have that happening again, so I need you off the board for a little while my dear." Zona's eyes bulged in her head as she opened her mouth to scream for help. The constables should be nearby, but the thought was already getting fuzzy. Her lips closed as her eyes rolled back into her head. Livingstone stood and leaned over her, his lips kissing her forehead. "Don't worry," he said over his shoulder as he walked from the room, "I'm almost certain I didn't use enough to kill you." © 2020 Naked Cat Press. All Rights Reserved

I am getting very close to getting this out to the public. I have a proofreading copy in hand and after going over it, I can fix any last-minute proofing issues. There were a few in The Shadow Within when it was released and it drove me crazy. In my rush to get it out a few typos slipped by and while I was super excited and proud to get it out, I was a bit embarrassed by the early copies that got out. I know even the big boys release books with an error here or there, but us independent writers want (and need) to do better. It means a lot to me when you give my books a chance, and I want to make sure you have something as close to perfect as possible. Another bit of great news, The Independent Book Review has reviewed the book and given it a really good review. The site would like to showcase it (something they did with The Shadow Within) and that is awesome and humbling news. I will share a few of their quotes, but until it is released on their site I have to keep the complete review to myself. That being said, I'm moving through both the kindle and paperback versions to try and catch anything that slipped through the cracks and I hope to have a release date for you in the next couple of days. Until then I have the book trailer complete to give you an idea of what it's about...

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE "Are you sure there is no way to wake him?" Dr. Livingstone asked, turning his attention to Zona. She nodded, a frown on her face. There was only one way to wake him but she didn't want to test the spell's power. The last thing they needed was another person trapped in the room. "Doctor I need to know if you have any chloroform in your bag," she asked softly. "I believe so, why?" "I need to fall asleep but not in there," Zona replied, motioning towards the room Ephraim lay in. Livingstone nodded slowly and moved to where his bag sat. Moments later, he returned with a cloth and a small bottle. "Inspector," Zona said, sliding next to the man, "I am going to retrieve Mr. Godwin and was hoping you might continue looking for any clues." He glanced at Ephraim before refocusing on her face. He studied it, the seconds dragging to a full minute before nodding and walking to Chattoway's desk. Zona walked to a free chair and motioned for the cloth. Livingstone doused it with the liquid and handed it over, his nose wrinkled in displeasure. "Thank you, Doctor," she said with a smile. "Please wake me in thirty minutes if we have not returned." She placed the cloth to her nose and slumped back. *** "Thirty minutes," Livingstone said as he checked his pocket watch before moving to the desk to help the Inspector. Kimbell glanced up and nodded, and returned his attention to the stacks of papers. "You would think someone who worked for Mr. Chattoway would have some filing skill," Livingstone said under his breath. He could tell the papers all dealt with real estate but not how they related to the man's death. "These are some rather worthless areas," Kimbell said holding out a form for Livingstone to peruse. "Curious," Livingstone mumbled, noting the listed areas. As the inspector began to pull the paper, Livingstone gasped and his hand shot out to halt the inspector. "Good God, man...look there." His shaking finger pointed to a fine signature at the very bottom, Zachariah Whitlock. *** Zona found Ephraim sitting in an overstuffed armchair. He was staring at a chessboard but the pieces were scattered on the floor. Ephraim gave a start when she cleared her throat. "Bloody hell," he growled, "you nearly gave me a heart attack. You have no idea what's lurking around." "Why are you just sitting here?" He motioned to the wall and smiled at her expression once she noticed the door was gone. "It does that for some reason," he said standing and stepping to the wardrobe. "The real trick is figuring out how he used this to escape, and we might catch him yet." Zona gave him a questioning look before turning her attention to the wardrobe. She'd see one like this before in her brother's books. Sitting down, she closed her eyes and concentrated. Zona felt Ephraim's gaze on her and tried to block out the distraction. She needed her full attention focused on the problem if they were going to escape anytime soon. In her mind's eye, Zona replayed the conversation with her brother about wardrobe travel and focused on the illustrations in his book. If only I was at home, we could be out of here in no time. She envisioned him flipping the page, and although their cat selected that moment to distract her younger self Zona caught the clue she needed. Standing she twisted the left knob to the right, Ephraim heard three clicks. Zona grabbed the other knob and twisted it once to the left. She opened the doors and gestured. "Um," Ephraim said not sure what she thought he was looking at but quite sure he was seeing the same interior as before. Zona's eyes closed to slits as she glared at Ephraim. He stepped back, wondering how this was his fault. She moved to close the door but her toes bumped into the wooden frame, and she fell into the wardrobe and disappeared. "Not again," Ephraim said diving after her; his eyes scrunched closed as he expected to hit the wood inside. CHAPTER FORTY-TWO Ephraim's eyes popped open and he rolled to his side. His body ached, and he wondered if everyone took turns hitting him with sticks while he was trapped playing chess with Mr. Cook. Or Zachariah Whitlock. He dreaded the thought; no the truth was he dreaded the thought of telling Zona. Ephraim wasn't sure what to believe from the dreamlike world, so he would wait. He moved to Robert's body and secured the papers. Glancing around Ephraim saw nothing else of immediate importance. He stepped from the room, careful to avoid the blood on the floor. "Gentlemen, I have the papers," Ephraim called out. Livingstone and Kimbell stood at the desk, Chattoway was still in the chair and on the walls, and Zona sat with her head in her hands. "Oh jolly good," Livingstone said with a broad smile. He stepped to Ephraim and took his free hand. "Honestly I had no idea what to expect." Ephraim wondered what his friend meant exactly but returned the smile and handshake. Zona glanced up with a sour expression and Ephraim wondered if she too was having stomach discomfort. He shook his head to remove the thought. "We might have something," Kimbell said as he motioned them to the desk. "But in all honesty, it makes no sense." Livingstone nodded his agreement but offered no other explanation. Zona struggled to rise, but soon was standing with the others at the desk. Kimbell passed the paper to Ephraim. His face froze when he recognized the signature at the bottom and held the paper out to Zona. She glanced at it and let the document drop to the desktop. "I assume you both see the name at the bottom?" Kimbell said. "Yes, and the date," Ephraim said to emphasize it could not be her brother. "This document is signed days after his death." "Unless he's still alive," Kimbell pressed, studying the reactions of the others but keeping his attention mostly on Zona. "And working for the man who began all this insanity?" Livingstone asked. "I've seen stranger things...just this past few days," Kimbell replied in an even voice. Ephraim couldn't argue that point, he had just escaped through a wardrobe, but he knew that Zona's brother was dead...his spirit at least. "If he is to blame for all this, then we must stop him," Zona said, her voice steel. Livingstone patted her on the shoulder and tried to offer a smile, but failed and instead gave her a slightly sick look instead. "Sir," a constable called out. The group turned their attention to the speaker, and he noticeably swallowed. "A young man is holding a little girl near the fountain in the back garden and demanding to speak with Mr. Godwin." Zona and Ephraim exchanged looks and moved as one, racing to the back door. The constable, Livingstone, and Kimbell were close behind. "That's the boy who attacked me," Zona proclaimed as they exited the house. The boy stood with his back to the fountain and the young girl stood in front of him. He held a blade to her throat and wore a wicked smile. Ephraim wondered how she was able to stand upright, she was shaking so much. He guessed her age to three to four years younger than the boy. She had long blonde hair and a pinched face that reminded him of Mrs. Stanbury before he covered her with a blanket. Ephraim prayed she was clueless about her parents' demise. "You need to stay there," the boy said. Ephraim was amazed at his calm demeanor. It was almost as if he didn't realize how outnumbered he was at the moment. "He wants me to deliver a message but first I want my chain back," the boy said as he stepped back from the girl. "Where did you get that chain?" Ephraim asked his voice barely above a whisper. Zona slid closer and started to raise her hand. The boy sprang forward and a dull pink blade flashed in his right hand. He drove the knife into the girl's back. Her shrieks filled the garden as she reached back, clawing to remove it. Smiling, the boy locked eyes with Ephraim. Behind the boy, the fountain water churned and sloshed as if a terrible storm was shaking a sea. White foam covered the statue as the water boiled and frothed. The boy began to laugh as he pulled the blade from the girl's back and flung it towards Livingstone. "From my ma, and I will get it back," he said, his voice flush with anger. He turned and dove into the fountain, his form disappearing into the foaming green waves. Livingstone cried out as the knife struck him on the forehead. The girl stumbled forward into Zona's waiting arms. She made little noises of hurt, and Ephraim turned his attention towards the girl. Her cries gained strength, and she screamed one final time before her chest exploded outward. Zona shrieked in surprise as the girl's blood sprayed on her. She stumbled back, letting the body fall to the ground in a heap. Kimbell's curses filled the quiet air as Ephraim sprang to Zona's side. He helped her rise as the little girl's body shook before black slime spewed out the hole in her chest. It slithered down her dress, to the ground, and towards the water. "Stop...it," Ephraim called out to the constables but the men were frozen in shock. They followed it with their eyes but made no movement towards the creature. The group watched it slip into the foaming waves of the fountain and disappear. The water calmed, draining off the statue. Zona gasped and pointed at the marble, no longer a cherub with a harp, now in its place stood a mass of tentacles flowing out towards them. © 2020 Naked Cat Press. All Rights Reserved

I know it's terrible news for those of you wanting to jump right in to the next part of the Ephraim Godwin story but my editing site is down. Should be up in the morning so I'll get on this asap and post it when I'm done. Until then, feel free to enjoy all the other parts to get caught up...

Depending on where you live, this quarantine may be close to finishing up but there is still time to binge some great shows on your favorite streaming networks. GRIMM is first up. You can stream this horror-based soap opera on Amazon Prime. And although I used horror and soap opera in the description, this isn't Dark Shadows or Dallas meets Freddy Kruger. It's a bunch of stuff jammed together in a very entertaining 6 seasons. It's a cop procedural with monsters popping up all over which only helps blur the lines between right and wrong; and yet it is also a show about friendships, overcoming prejudice, and also shows how monster-hunting may change your relationships (romantic or otherwise). PRODIGAL SON is my second recommendation. You can watch this on Hulu and I'd be shocked if you couldn't stream the whole thing on demand. To be honest, I wasn't sure I'd like this one at first, but after a few episodes you can't help but love the characters and the premise. Malcolm Bright is an FBI profiler, one of the very best in the country, who also happens to be the son of the notorious serial killer, the Surgeon. Fired from his job at the FBI, the NYPD takes a chance on him as a hired gun. Each episode is a procedural, but there is a developing story in the background that expands the relationship between Malcolm and his father. The show is worth watching just to see Michael Sheen play the serial killer who cares... THE GUILD is the last suggestion and one that has nothing to do with horror. You can find it on Netflix, each season is an episode and there are only 6 total. This is about socially awkward individuals who get together to game online (when it was just really taking off). It will show you all the ups and downs of social interaction and quite possibly send you back to your mom's basement. Each episode originally was online and only ran for a few minutes, that's why each season is now 1 show (as they just linked them all together for easier viewing). This is very low budget, and very sketchy acting (at least in the beginning) but as it grew in popularity bigger and bigger names jumped on board. If you are a gamer, or a fan or gaming this might be your jam...although most likely you knew about it long before I did.

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE Livingstone slipped past Ephraim and Ms. Whitlock. He stood in the same room they had first met Mr. Chattoway. Except this time, the room was painted with the man's insides. Livingstone stepped lightly, trying to avoid the bits and pieces lying haphazardly about. Pools of the man's blood dotted the floor as well. Mr. Chattoway sat in a chair near the middle of the room. Livingstone leaned closer, inspecting the man and discovering the same angry scratch running down his face that the fountain woman had. The man's features were swollen and discolored but managed to retain enough of his features to be recognizable. Wonder if the water played a part with the young lady? His curiosity stirred, he tucked the thought away to be revisited. The pressing concern, Livingstone decided was the large hole in the man's chest. Leaning closer still, he studied the damage before shaking his head and glancing back to the others. "Can someone bring me a lantern?" he asked suddenly aware of the lack of any real light in the room other than the dying fire. A constable handed him a small, hooded lantern, and he nodded his thanks before motioning the man to open the curtains. Might be enough daylight to help; he found the idea of sunlight most settling. The constable waited for Kimbell to give the okay before sliding them open. Ms. Whitlock gasped, her face no longer buried in Ephraim's shoulder. Livingstone glanced at the windows and shuddered. Bloody hand prints and smudges decorated the glass. But clearly, a message was smeared, YOU WERE WARNED. "Indeed we were," Ephraim said as he stepped to the side of the doctor. Livingstone nodded and shined the light on the opening. "Just as I thought, his heart is missing as is many of his vital organs," Livingstone noted as he started to point at various spots, inside and out of Mr. Chattoway's remains. "Hard to tell if they were taken or used to decorate," Ephraim said peering around the room. "Very true, but I am fairly confident his heart was taken." "Gentlemen, I have Mr. Roberts," Zona called out, no longer showing any effects from the room's carnage. So much, that she walked through this room to investigate another. Livingstone was impressed by her fortitude and moved towards her. Ephraim wore a straight face, but Livingstone saw his jaw tighten before following. They stopped at the doorway and glanced in. John Roberts lay in a pool of blood. He was on the floor and from the bloodstains on the carpet was making his way back to the larger room. This was the office of a secretary or bookkeeper: something close by for Chattoway if he needed instant answers, but closed off enough so Roberts could get work done undisturbed. Deep gashes ran down his back, and through his clothing. Livingstone pointed to some words on the floor. "What does that say?" "Why it looks to be Whitlock," Kimbell said as he walked up. "Why would he write my name in his blood?" Ms. Whitlock asked seemingly as befuddled as the rest. "Look," Ephraim said. "He is holding some papers, maybe they can explain this." He stepped through the doorway and instantly fell. His unconscious form slammed into the ground with a crunch. Ms. Whitlock immediately grabbed the other men and pulled them back from the doorway. "We can't enter," she said, worry eating at her voice. "Someone has cast a sleeping curse on that room. Without knowing the parameters, there's no way of knowing for how long." Kimbell glanced at her from the side, and Livingstone read the disbelief on his face. "Believe me, Inspector," Livingstone said. "A few hours ago I would have scoffed at such a suggestion but now...now I understand there are forces at work here, man is not equipped to comprehend." "Oh, I've worked with Mr. Whitlock long enough to understand that, but we have a victim just feet away, whose written her name in blood and I can't investigate closer because of a supposed curse? But unless Godwin is in on the gag as well...he seems proof enough." The three turned their attentions back to Ephraim as he lay on the blood-soaked floor, a soft wheezing snore coming through his broken nose. CHAPTER FORTY Ephraim stood at the end of a dark hallway, every few feet a gas-lit fixture shined dimly. He shook his head, he was always puzzled why so many preferred gas lights to candles when you still needed so many to light an area. But then again, Ephraim wasn't the one lighting all the candles. He turned and studied the door. It was a dark brown wood he was unfamiliar with. Ephraim reached out and ran his hand over the smooth finish, surprised to feel warmth radiating from the door. He grabbed the knob and turned it this way and that, but it remained locked. A booming laugh drew his attention back to around. "I guess I'm meant to move that way," Ephraim said aloud, hoping to find comfort in his voice. He stepped forward, tentatively at first before quickly tiring of being cautious and hurrying with each step. He counted the light fixtures as he passed, lit and unlit, and became flustered when he hit fifty. How bloody long am I expected to walk in this hallway? As if to answer his question, a door opened to his left. Ephraim paused and looked in. The room was empty except for a small couch, upon which sat two creatures holding hands. A red light from an unknown source bathed the whole room, and the creatures seemed to be soaking it up. Ephraim fought the urge to enter and sighed in relief when the creatures began to quarrel in a nonsense language and then grow violent with each other. The door closed and Ephraim shook his head, unable to process exactly what he just witnessed. Pushing forward, Ephraim began to count again. This time he stopped at the hundredth fixture and waited. A door opened to the right and Ephraim gave a start. The African from the shared dream sat at a table. There was one other empty chair and a chessboard on the tabletop. He slipped in and the door slammed closed behind him. "Ah, Mr. Godwin so good of you to join me," the African said as he stood and gestured for Ephraim to take the other seat. "So we meet again Mr. Cooks," he said as he took his seat. The African smiled and moved a pawn to e4. Ephraim studied the board and moved his pawn to e5. Mr. Cooks nodded and motioned to the side of Ephraim, where a glass appeared filled with an amber liquid. "I hope you realized long ago we are not in the real world," Cooks said with a wide smile. Knight to f3. Ephraim nodded as he picked up the glass and took a long drink. The liquid warmed his insides as it traveled down, and he sighed from the experience. Knight to c6. "Although you can die here just as easily," Cooks said with a laugh. Bishop to c4. "For some reason, I trust a poisoned drink is not your style." Bishop to c5. Cooks offered a slight nod, a smirk dancing on his lips. Pawn to c3. Ephraim studied the board. He was a fan of the game, but rarely had a chance to play it, and he wondered if Cooks was using some kind of sight to play or if he was a student of the game. Whatever he was doing, Ephraim hoped by playing some of his plans would be revealed. Knight to f6. "You were warned. Since you've continued you will now have to finish the contest with me, all of you," Cooks said with an exaggerated frown. Pawn to d4. "This isn't a bloody game, innocent lives are being slaughtered," Ephraim hissed as his pawn took Cooks' pawn, d4. Cooks slammed his hand on the table issuing a thunder crack. Ephraim grabbed at his ears moaning in pain. "Do not dare speak of innocent lives to me," Cooks snarled. Pawn to e5. Ephraim stared at the African and sighed, remembering the village in the dream. Knight to e4. "I will see England scoured from the earth for what was done," Cooks said in a low even voice. He stared at the board before reaching out, bishop to d5. "While you have my sympathy," Ephraim said. "You must know we will stop you." Knight takes pawn f2. "How's that?" Cook said sneering, "With a stiff upper lip and a slip of a girl scarcely aware of what she's dealing with?" King takes knight f2. Ephraim stayed quiet. Honestly, he had no idea how they were going to stop him. He had no idea where he was at the moment or how he even got there. Ephraim studied the board, hoping in the quiet Cooks would grow impatient and say more. A mantle appeared to the side and a clock struck eight. Ephraim's pawn took another of Cooks' pawns, c3. Cooks nodded and stood. A wardrobe appeared in the room. Cooks opened it and pulled out a rumbled, white suit from the back. Ephraim glanced at it and back at the board wondering what move he would make next. "I assure you that slip of a girl is more than capable of ending whatever you have planned." The board began to shimmer, and one by one the pieces disappeared as they fell through. Ephraim glanced to the floor, but wherever Cooks sent them it was no longer in the room. He leaned closer, staring at the shimmer as it smoothed out and became a window. A black shape rushed towards Ephraim; tentacles, slime, teeth, eyes, and a darkness unlike anything he had experienced since the war. It slammed into the window and pushed, trying to force its way out. "That is all that is holding it back," Cooks said his voice now raspy and whisper quiet. "I will have it opened soon enough and the irony is who is with me to help." Ephraim glanced up and stumbled backward, knocking his chair over and struggling to keep his balance. Cooks was gone, and in his place stood Zachariah Whitlock. "Everything you hold dear will be the first to go," Whitlock said with a smile. "I mean that which isn't already gone." Ephraim overcame his shock and stepped forward, his hands clenched tightly into fists. What does he mean by that? "If you ever escape this room," Cooks said as he placed his top hat on his head and held up his cane. "You may very well find out." With that, he stepped into the wardrobe and closed the doors. Ephraim rushed and pulled them open only to find it empty. He entered and closed the doors. Nothing happened. He left the wardrobe, swearing when he noticed the door he entered through was gone. There was only the table with the board left and his chair. "I sure as hell hope she's as good as I boasted." His words rang empty as Ephraim sat down to wait.